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moonologyy · 6 months

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geto gotta actually grow some balls and confessed instead spitting that bs

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ─ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 [𝟎𝟎𝟏].

001. ─── ✦ A BITTER 17 [SERIES MASTERLIST} ✧˖*°࿐

synopsis ─ [21 DAYS LEFT TILL THE EXAM]. after being rejected by your childhood best friend, you walk by yourself to your other best friend's birthday party. but even after you use the celebration to forget him, it seems he leaves you a parting wish to forget what he said.

content warnings ─ alcohol usage, curse words, and etc.

𝐍𝐎𝐕 𝟗 ─── 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍.

“change is good.”

it’s a quote with words that soothes the ache of the guilt of never ending metamorphosis with its dearing touch, yet sears with regard to whatever you may have yearned to keep. your body still lingers though in an oblivious trance of the past, stuck even when you tell yourself this quote, noticeably the presence of the sound of dreadful repetition of the god awful radio in the car when your phone has died and your dad doesn’t like the silence.

you’re supposed to move on, and yet, change doesn’t feel all that great like it should.

suguru telling you it was an impulse to kiss your lips that morning had forced the wrenching of your weak guts, mutating what little love you had found in mind and self to be left to shreds. you used to consider his voice the melody entertained with the love belonging to naive youth, but his rhythm now leaves you bitter when you know yours is no longer a proper one itself.

his words have left you to appear restless despite the hours of rest you have laid with him yesterday as you walk to the library, and you wonder just how much one boy could just seemingly ruin everything in a mere second or two.

the soles of your aged sneakers brush harshly against the fissures of similarly old concrete when you try to figure this matter. of the uncomfortably familiar streets that you tread, you’re forced to witness the disaster hurling inside the crevices between your rigid bones that call out to lay your eyes and in heart to seek a selfish longing such as a motionless life.

ingrained in privileged purity and righteousness in the midst of infancy, your body used to run gravely cold at even thought of something like an easy life.

when suguru left initially, you too, originally planned to leave when you got a bit older. because in a town so miniscule, there was nothing close to the freedom of living out the wildest dreams one may have. stuck by the identical proximity and communal till lungs inhale and exhale finally, you used to find that life daunting. to remain in bind forever by the opinions of those who resided was a possibility of hell, and now remains so admittedly.

the city allowed you to breathe. do whatever you want, and nobody will dare to care. the thought that you don’t matter much, you found that to be freeing.

you had always planned to escape from the nostalgia and the redundancy of the town; to lace your worn sneakers in a haste manner before taking off to wherever your heart had desired at the moment. you’ll escape in the cheapest vehicle at the junkyard you had bought beforehand, then drive recklessly while you release your thoughts to the cds that play as soon as you land on the first highway out of this town. you didn't know (or care) if you would struggle all alone somewhere else. its dread lacked importance as long as you were free. perhaps a skinning sort of agony, but it meant you had the determination to do it, and you would be better than the boring folk who resided in oblivious comfort. you wanted to be better.

however, just as the hastful suguru was to abandon what built between you two when he moved, as quick as he was to enter your life once more after his return. jovial though you were to see him once more, but it was at a steep price of daring the depths of the disaster in your very soul that you found the horror (yet truth), that suguru had led you complacent into discovering the very pleasure of domesticity. for his words to lead you astray from the philosophical freedom you once sought, to instead let the eventual ache of your feet be mediated by the possibility of the gentle rocking of the wooden chair you’ll purchase for the house in the countryside with him.

after this morning though, you doubt he would even visit that house if you had bought it. he’s gone to wind, and you were stuck with your feet embedded in soil, yearning to keep time still as a caterpillar’s walking pace of early metamorphosis to preserve the fading moments with him. it seems he didn’t feel the same for you, since suguru grew mosaic wings from this, and you were still on the ground.

the roughness of the pads belonging to the surface of your fingertips attempt to sooth the chaos stirring in the puffiness surrounding your eyes when you realize this truth. they glide to smooth an approaching swelling, and with every wrinkle they flush back into your supple skin, you even feel yourself whispering curses directed to the very silence around you like someone would come console you of this actuality.

it’s laughable.

laughable because you’re now standing in front of another very proof that time can’t stand still after it has crossed your path during this pitiful walk of yours.

it’s only an old truck the local elderly couple on the block owns, and yet you wonder if the universe just yearns to entertain your anguish in the midst of this freezing autumn.

sure it may be invaluable and complicated to deal with to most, yet if they didn’t have love for this car, they would have simply abandoned it in some junkyard nearby. you know how complicated and annoying it is to maintain that car because you and suguru had also worked with your dad at the auto shop to repair it every summer. despite suguru’s departure, you and your father still begrudgingly repaired it yourselves. it took days, and certainly wasn’t cheap for them because everybody involved had realized it was a miracle your dad even had the talent to fix something that old. but you can tell it meant a lot to them, because they paid the hefty price every time with a pretty penny too as tip.

through change someone loved it. when it got old, it still was taken care of. you think you now yearn for that determination from somebody.

it lingered in your mind, causing you to wonder if suguru had loved you through the metamorphosis your vulnerability had undergone during his leave. you had become rough around the edges, like a dog who bites at its owner rather than bark. had he eventually gotten too tired to throw his bone to you? so now he rejects you?

you decide to forget about it, afraid it would cause you to become too obviously depressed before you had met up with the others, so you quickly rushed your feet to avoid further thought.

──────────────────────────────

once you finally arrived at the quint library, you pushed open the glass doors, just for your jaw to collapse.

the widened pupils in your eyes saw your best friend kana, also suguru’s little sister, kissing suguru’s best friend, satoru.

“okay don’t worry I can explain this just calm down!—” she shouted nervously.

“oh jesus so you’re dating your brother’s best friend and I’m supposed to be calm? you couldn’t have even told me?—”

“sure bring that up but aren’t you dating my brother? So who’s acting supposed to be calm? cause it’s definitely not you—” kana nagged.

“who said i’m dating your suguru when i got rejected this morning by him when i tried!?—” you retorted.

“you’re dating suguru?” satoru interrupts, appearing rather dumbfounded as his lips curve to whisp a “huh” a moment afterwards. “sorry, i mean, did you try to date him? lameee! was your confession that bad?” he teases, but you and kana are still standing there, again with both jaws dropped on the wooden floors at the fact you even confessed to suguru and she’s dating his best friend.

where do you begin now? that you thought after all these years he was showing signs of feelings but it turns you’re actually just delusional? kana jabs at satoru’s side before raising an eyebrow at you, awaiting a response as well clearly. it’s the season where your exhales release as mist and yet you can feel an approaching drop of sweat down your forehead.

“can we start on one thing before making fun of me? and yeah he fucking rejected me after he stole my first kiss—” you stutter finally after a couple of moments, “but how the hell did he steal your first kiss though?—” kana interrupts right after, satoru even letting out a boisterous laugh at way you just keep fucking up your words.

“you fumbled badly. we’re going to championships too. you could’ve been one of those basketball star girlfriends,” he pokes, throwing you a can of beer from his bag before settling further into the seat he was at. “but really, i thought he liked you…so what did he actually do?”

you didn’t really notice it before you were too ashamed really to look at him, yet it’s the first time you’ve seen his cheshire like grin suddenly drop, a glimmer of concern laying in the blinding blues that swirled in his very eyes. has he always been upset once you first told him of this incident? for your sake?

the concealment of the anger through the vein that pops on his forehead was almost hidden if you hadn’t peered closer through the heavy bangs he adorns. you do great when you start to pace between the shelves surrounding you three, attempting to rest the worry that he may, in the simpleness of the vocabulary you have accumulated, knock the shit out of suguru when he arrives later.

oh how the tightening and crease around his knuckles grow pale through his grip on the table edge easily silence the very potential of any words to be said die in the closing of the space between your lips to possibly reveal what lies inside you. the fact he can do so, is impressive, admittedly.

you almost laugh at the way he now releases a huff of air or two when kana traces her manicured blinged nails along the veins on his soft hands though, relaxing him like how satoru himself does with his own dog, callie. she doesn’t appear to contain her raging annoyance at brother like how her supposed boyfriend (and his best friend) does from first glance, but you can still tell she does since she’s almost violently trembling (likely in words she’s about to yell suguru with) despite the truth she has two sweaters on and acting as if she’s in antarctica.

it’s also when you stand only a couple of inches away you can tell this relationship hadn’t been one that developed only recently. you don’t comment on it though.

“he rejected me.”

“…so what made you think he liked me then?” you ask, kicking the wooden seat to let yourself settle onto it before cracking open the metal can beneath your rigid nails.

“[y/n] wake up, what kinda “best friend” looks at somebody dumbstruck during class if he doesn’t like her?” the white haired boy sighs, rummaging with a sigh or two as he plucks out another beer from the cooler beside the leg of the wooden table.

kana nods in agreement, and when she doesn’t say much, that’s how you know someone has found the words of absolute perfection to voice what she must have thought (which is rare you admit).

“im pissed off because he does all of that lovey dovey shit and still gets to do you like that,” he chugs the gold corona past the openings of his lips, wincing immediately after, “aren’t you mad? i teased you about it but…if someone ever did that to me, i wouldn’t know what to believe,” he mumbles.

“is this really right to talk about during kana’s birthday?” you chuckle (rather awkwardly), glancing over at your best friend seemingly staring off into space. the splashing of your can doesn’t seem to rip through the silence between all of you anymore unfortunately.

you didn’t want to shit on suguru just yet for some unknown reason. perhaps, he’ll come back and say he was simply joking of course, so you wait to align with your anger.

“it’s not a very fun birthday if i find out that my best friend is sad because the love of her life is a pussy, sooo…” kana says finally, scurrying off to the magazine stand near the cashier, running right back to hand you a magazine a moment later. platinum highlights in her onyx hair look especially taken care of today you realize.

“what’s this about?”

“my apology for not telling you about satoruu obviously!” she wraps her arms around your shoulders, “and my thank you for the amazing gift you got me.”

you raise a brow at kana before shrugging, starting to flip through the overly decorated paper with scented perfume samples and plasters of the hottest idols at the moment. it bores you slightly after you have smelled the fifth sample of some random strawberry perfume, until you come across a little interview.

you have to admit. the idol being interviewed is stunning.

the questions seem a little two faced at first, like all the media could care is how many times she curls her hair to achieve the wavy beach effect, but you come across a section where she seems to try to help her oh so “unfortunate” audience.

it’s hilarious, yes, but you’re reading it like religious literature.

she doesn’t seem to divert from the typical “how to look better” guides, change your hair color, wear different makeup (both that are supposed to suit you better somehow), and foolery like that. but you can’t seem to ignore how your eyes linger on pink bold letterings soaked in messy glitter that also mention changing your style, diet, and everything.

you don’t want to admit it, but it seems tempting.

“earth to [y/n]?” kana grins, flickering your forehead as your head automocally shifts to her eyes staring into yours. you can tell she was late to arrive home yesterday since her concealer can’t even cover the depth of exhaustion meshed with the rosy, blushed flesh belonging to her face. “now you’re interested?”

“it’s lame.” you chuckle.

“was it really lame if you were enjoying it?” satoru pokes, and you roll your eyes before kana shrugs in agreement.

“he’s not going to suddenly leave whatever girl he likes just because i got a glow up, he’s not like that.” you sigh, resting your head in your hands as you daze off.

“you guys are next level delusional if you think me having a pokemon sort of evolution is the key to all this.” you slightly laugh, twirling your locks around a finger of yours.

when the flowery scent of your dollar store shampoo approaches your nose, it makes you wince for some reason. perhaps it’s because suguru told you he liked the way your hair smelled once. he never said it ever again though, and you wonder why at this moment you remember it in your pit of misery. a living grave of what could have been said in response to his compliment, to now to follow you to be stuck to your head from there on since you had (regrettably) only showed a smile at the time.

“whatever you say…” kana yawns, looking at her phone for a moment, “but if i say for my birthday wish I want you to do it, will that help?” she grinned.

“she got you there.” satoru whistles.

“shut up.” you mutter, taking a sip of your beverage before continuing, loosening up.

“…it’s not that i don’t want to, but i don’t know if it’s the best idea,” you mutter, setting the laminated sheets of thin paper on the table as your eyes linger once more. “it’s just, changing my entire look, for a guy, isn’t very productive either right before our exams, idiots. ever thought of that?” you groan, running your fingertips through the base of your hair.

“not me though, i have one year left. i’ll worry about exams…next year? still, even if you guys have them, doesn’t mean you can’t have romance in your life. it's a piece of paper, and if you die alone because of it, it’s kinda your fault.” kana chirps, and satoru simply gives you an agreeing look to accompany his girlfriend’s disagreement to your qualms.

a look that can only mean, in the entire two years since he first moved to this small town to follow suguru mindlessly from the other school he had attended, that satoru knows he’s right for once. it worries you a bit because of his usual playful and rather talkative manner.

“but—”

“ah, happy birthday kana!” a long onyx haired girl cheers, unintentionally interrupting you as her figure walks through the glass doors, a familiar taller, coffee colored short hair girl following behind her, the cigarette between her maroon lips escaping their crevice to be thrown out in the bin immediately by her calloused hands.

“good timing for the both of you, now help convince [y/n] she doesn’t need suguru. and that I’m right, as I always am—” kana says, an immediate, “what even happened—” escaping from shoko’s lips soon afterwards as she applies lip gloss to hide the scent of the smoke on them.

“suguru rejected me, that’s what happened!” you blurt out, your brows furrowed as the apples of your cheek burnt up while the two that had entered let out a sigh. they soon sit down beside you, and an awkward moment of silence continues again.

“he told me he didn’t like me, and now kana is trying to convince me to go through some mega glow up to make him regret it.” you groan, shuffling through the cooler once more for another beer to cool off.

“and so because of that, [y/n] is releasing her anger on everybody,” satoru murmurs, taking another sip of his own drink before he whistles obliviously to avoid your piercing glare. “am not!—”

“so are you completely lucky go happy and not threatening to murder us?” he raises a brow, and your lips are sewn immediately. “see? she’s going to lose her damn marbles over this crap.” satoru chuckles, and they nod in a certain understanding.

“i just, i feel bad for ruining for kana’s birthday like this. I admitted to being in love with her brother, and now i’m having some group therapy session.” you huff, looking over at the birthday girl as she sits on a shelf all casually before she grins at you after adjusting her bangs.

“well, how about we celebrate kana’s birthday first, and then we can do whatever the birthday girl wants for you.” utahime chuckled sheepishly, grabbing a lighter effortlessly from one of the twenty seven pockets on shoko’s cargos, before directly looking at satoru. you’re suspicious why she knows where it is so easily, but you’re too grateful for her excellent topic shifts to to say anything.

the rest of the group nods, and you take a big sigh of relief.

“where’s suguru with the cake?” utahime adds, her eyes rushing to meet the ink hues of the taller boy who entered the room as he grins at her.

“here, fifteen dollars for a birthday cake is pretty insane.” suguru says, placing the cake down on the table beside you before he waves at you, yet you can see his eyebrows scrunch when you look away instead of reciprocating it. nobody comments on it though.

“is it because you’re broke suguru?” satoru interrupts out of the blue, getting up to ruffle suguru’s silky locks beneath the pads of his fingertips before a smirk emerges on his face from his joy of annoying his best friend. “personally, me, i have never complained about two digit prices.” the white haired boy whistles, walking away as he took out the number one and seven candles in his bag, pushing them down into the soft cream of the cake.

suguru roll his eyes before he laughs, and everybody surrounds the cake.

it’s cheap, proven by the buttercream frosting reaching peaks that seem to grow appetizingly weak the further your eyes follow them, but you still have to admire the thick script of the simple ‘happy birthday kana’ likely made by the middle aged cat lady at the local bakery. it’s not too perfect (she seems to have forgotten cursive for some letters) but she improvised its mess into something somewhat bearable to stare at.

“ready?” utahime says, lighting the rainbow candles.

“happy birthday to youuu, happy birthday to you,”

and there everybody sang a simple tune of happy birthday for kana. it felt a little weird to sing it in a library so early in the morning, yet oddly jovial to be able to witness that over the moon glimmer of light in kana’s eyes as she made silly poses for shoko to record her during all your singing. as long as she was happy, nobody cared how idiotic they looked.

“happy birthday dear kana,”

satoru was no exception either clearly, because you spot his hand around her waist despite suguru being right beside her, but you pretend to have not. it wasn’t your business in the end, and as long as he continued to make her happy as this obnoxious singing did, love shall prevail as corny as it may sound, you thought.

“happy birthday to you!”

and the song has ended. you stifle a laugh as satoru removed his hand at the speed of light as suguru began to cut the cake.

“thank you, thank you!” kana chirped, hugging everybody rather tight before she dug in into her slide of cake, the ombré layers all smushed as her fork pierced it’s layers, simply to entertain her taste buds as quickly as she got the utensil to do so. “it’s really good,” she says with a mouth full of it, everybody laughing as they soon got themselves a slice.

but it’s not really a birthday party without obscene amounts of pizza and junk food, so she didn’t spend long on that cake before digging into the steaming pizza that was delivered just as she took her last bite.

“happy birthday again idiot,” you grin when you poke at her, hugging her side once more as she hugs you back. she radiated the sun, and you simply wanted to be in the radius of her shine today.

everybody started to open drinks after a while of eating, leaving on a playlist in the background as they chatted.

──────────────────────────────

time seemed to fly by fast, because it was eight o clock pm now and you could feel the dim stars ever so slightly seep into the moles and freckles of your flesh through the opening of the slightly cracked window. it’s from when shoko wanted another smoke and utahime whined about its oh so ‘deadly’ effects since shoko herself thought it was smart to open a window in the middle of freezing autumn. no one complained in the end though since the slight breeze helped to not end up wasted immediately, which was nice.

you look over your shoulder as you remain pressed against the shelf of science fiction, noticing your best friend almost knocked out on the floor as satoru sits right beside her on the carpet, stroking her back. you thought satoru would be more drunk by now, but he seems to rely more on a lollipop at the moment to fix his oral craving for some reason. you wonder if they’re so drunk that they can’t tell suguru is only ten feet away sitting down at a table. but you can’t blame the couple too much. he’s too drunk himself to notice anything since it seems since he can barely keep his head up.

speaking of him though, you feel a bit sick when you see his eyes glance on shoko a little too often for your liking. utahime was oddly focused on a kids manga so she wasn’t talking much in that group conversation, but you wonder what could be so entertaining in their world that suguru isn’t talking to you at the moment (even after this morning’s fiasco.)

sure you confessed, but why is he treating you like some stranger? he didn’t even talk to you that much during the party. and yeah maybe you're mad because your drinks have made you more sensitive than ever, but you felt oddly sober enough to realize you should get out before he could tell the look of jealousy in your eyes from staring at the two of them.

shoko has been your friend ever since suguru came back from his stay with his dad. she hasn’t been anything but a shoulder for you, always getting you to stop being a ‘stick in the ass’ as she crudely refers to it, and never giving you shit despite sometimes acting manic. so it makes you feel worse you’re jealous of her right now.

you stand up slowly, waving bye to satoru and kana, only a murmur from the both of them to be heard as you slowly push open the glass door. you walk the night in a shiver, yet the chill sobers you more as your eyes are glued on the concrete.

shoko’s pretty. short brown choppy hair. it wouldn’t look the best on you as it did on her. her cool tight eyeliner and the way she pulls off any bold color of lipstick must be tempting for suguru, and you can’t blame him for liking someone like her. the way she was with the flow, and you were exactly the opposite. she liked those bands you don’t tell your parents about and instead just steal their car to go see them at a underground bar. shoko was the type to just so cooly light a shared cigarette with her effortlessly. if you tried you would probably burn the other person’s lips somehow.

you feel horrible.

you can’t be mad at him for finding someone else prettier. and you can’t be mad at her if she found herself to like him. what kinda friend would you be?

so you wonder why your feet have led you to the park you and suguru frequented.

and you even wonder more why your feet lead to let you reside on the swing you always chose ever since you first came. your hands grip the bit of a rust on the chain, and you let the weight of your body slowly push you as you think.

what were you doing here but reminiscing over a man that wasn’t yours? you feel stupid, and the drinks don’t help but to cause your tear ducts to spill a little more than they should as you sob out into the silence of the night for the decaying nature around to take your anguish with them before their greenery finally disappears with the upcoming winter.

it doesn’t help when you accidentally look over to the swing that suguru always took when you guys played together, and you just remember how cool he always looked after he ran from his basketball game to accompany you whenever you looked lonely swinging by yourself. He would talk your ear off, and as much as some may have loathed his pity and slight savior complex disguised as a philosophy of kindness , you embraced it with all you had.

and now you kinda wish even after everything he would do the same. you continued to weep, wiping your eyes even if you had some half assed glitter on your lids from this morning.

“you okay?” suguru whispered.

shit.

“why are you here? thought you were avoiding me, suguru.”

you don’t notice the way his heart pangs at the lack of your nickname of his.

“i was passing by to go home.” his voice cracks. suguru’s voice always does that when he lies. you wonder what is there to hide now. but you don’t ask.

“then go home.”

“you don’t own the park.” he chuckles heartily, and it somehow even makes you roll your eyes during your misery. “and why are you here?” suguru whistles.

“because i can.”

“then i can too.” he says as he rests himself on the swing beside yours like he always has, an uncomfortable silence between the two of you for a minute or two. “you drunk?”

“are you?” you raise an eyebrow.

“yeah.” he nods, holding up his crushed can.

suguru never remembers anything when he’s drunk. and you don’t think he’s lying since his typical bun is disheveled. it’s too many strands out of the hair ties grasp to be considered to be a sober suguru. you’re kinda glad he’s not sober to remember this state of yours by sunrise tomorrow.

“well I’m drunk then too.” you laugh, and he grins at the sound of your odd joy.

“cool.”

more silence between the both of you.

“suguru, why did you kiss me this morning if you don’t like me?” you blurt, and you keep your head low in case your eyes suddenly spill tears you don’t mean to.

he’s silent.

you feel your body burning in embarrassment once more, and you stand from your seat, so you can possible run out of there, but when you try, you feel a familiar hand grabbing on to yours.

“don’t leave.” he whispers, and you glance to see his eyes looking weak as they stare into yours.

“then tell me why you did it.” you mutter.

“i felt like it. it was just because, i was still tired, and i wasn’t thinking straight. i didn’t mean to do that to you.”

you wish he could have just been honest and told you the real reason. suguru doesn’t do things for no simple reason such as human impulses, and he must think you’re dumb to believe him.

“be honest suguru.”

“i’m telling you the truth.”

“don’t lie.”

“im not ready for a relationship.” he starts, “and i guess i really liked how your makeup looked, since you forgot to take it off when we hung out last night. the smudged eyeliner, and you know…” suguru shrugs.

shoko did your makeup like how she does hers typically earlier that yesterday afternoon. didn’t that mean he just saw a piece of her in you at that moment? and that’s why he was

tempted? to get a sample of what it must be like to kiss her? sure you both don’t look alike, but men are primal creatures, and they simply focus on the idiotic things rather than the big picture. he liked you, because you resembled her for a split second with smudged burgundy lips.

you don’t think he knew that, but you couldn’t say that to him without breaking down at the seam at the moment, so you keep silent for another moment to compose whatever you have right now.

“oh. okay.” you decide to say in the end, about to start walking again, but he again tugs you back.

“you’re leaving?”

you thought he was joking when he said don’t leave. but if rationale says to leave him, you just shake your head no, and you go back to sitting ‘a bit too close to comfort’ kinda close to him on the swings.

he doesn’t speak, using his hand to rest on your thigh. you let your own hand rest on that hand. you’re happy he’s kind enough to let you do that.

you would regret this night, but you’re going to blame the alcohol you had to say that this was your last hurrah before highschool was over.

you two don’t look at each other, just looking at whatever. you soon see the broken down car from the morning, but it wasn’t enough for you to want to start a conversation. it’s still sitting there. like you guys are.

ironic as it was, for the rest of the night, under the full moon, you both didn’t speak as you remained there, and simply enjoyed the presence of each other in these moments.

#➥fanfic recs #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader

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moonologyy · 11 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.

and then satoru wins.

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.

and then you remember.

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.

you suppose suguru is a step closer to suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if suguru is what you need right now. not suguru, not suguru, and certainly not geto suguru. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto suguru, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do.

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.

his breath hitches.

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly, grabbing all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughs off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

��alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort.

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow.

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.

finally, for once, you’re enough.

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

#geto x reader

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