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infinitynova · 2 years

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Gravity - Gojo Satoru x fem! reader

What lies between nothingness and eternity? The space between you and me.

Summary: [n/a yet]

c/w: descriptions of violence and blood, discussions about suicide/self harm

Tags: Gojo Satoru x F!Reader, Friends To Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Feels, smut probably later on

notes: this is the one with the content warnings! discussion of self harm may be triggering to some users. please take care <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Chapter 5 - Bound

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

In your hand, your blue plastic credit card poised above the blinking credit card reader. Beyond that was the teller's knitted brows, her face worried and looking at you strangely.

“Huh?”

You snapped to attention, realizing the teller was waiting for your payment. At the end of the conveyor belt sat two plastic bags filled with items you didn’t remember selecting. You shook the fog from your brain and stuffed your card into the reader, flying through the options while apologizing profusely and avoiding the staring eyes of the people in line behind you. You muttered thanks and quickly exited with your bags, hiding your face in embarrassment. At the corner of the street, you stopped to check your phone. You groaned at the late hour and pinched the bridge of your nose as you felt an ache rise in your neck and shoulders. It had been a few weeks since starting your new job as an office assistant and you had stayed late nearly every night since the first. Your department was exceptionally busy, a whirlwind of activity throughout the day, keeping you on your toes with incoming tasks from all sides. You worried about how long you would last there, as the women in the department were becoming curt and impatient with you. Mr. Hamada had even lost his temper once as he caught you dozing, standing in front of the copier long after your papers had finished their job. With your knuckles, you rubbed the back of your neck trying to alleviate the tenseness. The work was exhausting but you tried every day to improve, staying late to complete the tasks that you couldn’t get to during the day and often being the last one to leave at night.

Shizuka had been a friendly face during the work day, greeting you every morning with boundless energy. Occasionally you would pass in the halls during the day, Shizuka smiling with both thumbs up of course, but typically you were confined to your department and buried in paper. Your thoughts about work floated in your head as you absentmindedly checked the train schedule on your phone. A sudden notification at the top of your screen alerted you to a new message, but the icon and name were unfamiliar to you. You clicked it to see what kind of spam you’d received, shocked to find a text from Gojo Satoru. Fighting the urge to throw your phone onto the pavement, you tapped open the message.

Gojo [9:48pm]: Yo~

You blinked for a moment, stunned in disbelief by the message.

You: [9:49pm]: How did you get this number?

Gojo [9:49pm]: You leave your phone on the table. You should think about putting a password on it.

You stared at your phone, at the replies you received from the scheming sorcerer. Tapping into the icon, you enlarged the small image on his profile to reveal that his contact photo was a selfie taken from your bedroom, at the very table where he sat while you worked in the kitchen. In the photo he grinned widely from behind typical black sunglasses, the light from outside beaming in through the glass door behind him. The sight of his mischievous smile irked you, as he seemed to have found another way to bother. Thoughts flickered back to the conversation at your table from a few weeks ago, where he had apparently found the time to add himself to your contacts. You had similar pain in the neck at the time, though it could have easily been due to the stress of your houseguest.

Gojo Satoru had once again found his way inside your home, although at that time he seemed like he had more to say. He dropped his cheeky smiles for a serious tone when you delivered the mugs onto your table and sat across from him, sliding into your seat carefully and keeping eye contact with his black shades. You shrugged your shoulder, trying to shake off the discomfort. The white-haired sorcerer across from you sat silent for a few moments as he spooned sugar into his cup. The clinking of the spoon against ceramic punctuated the silence as he lazily stirred the contents of the cup, regarding you curiously. When he broke the silence, he spoke in a quiet, confident voice; he explained the existence of curses and cursed energy and monsters and … The topics made your head spin as you tried to pay attention, leaving your coffee untouched and cold. Shoulders squared, he leaned forward on his elbows with hands folded. His presence left you nervous, knots tightening in your stomach. He asked you at that time, bluntly, what you thought and what you wanted. In a quiet voice, you had told him simply you wanted to live peacefully and be left alone. Gojo was silent for a moment, before apologizing and telling you this wouldn’t be likely. He couldn't prove it, he said at the time, but he was certain that another curse would be attracted to your location at some time. He cautioned you to be careful and keep your eyes open for trouble.

His words swirled in your head as you stood on the empty train platform, checking the time of arrival. You’d received another message from Gojo but you left it unread in your inbox, the thoughts of your last conversation compounding the strain in your neck and head. The July night was humid, the air thick and heavy on the platform, eerily still with no breeze. You sighed with relief as the train approached, knowing it would only be a couple of stops until you reached home. Plastic bags between your feet, you sat alone in the empty car, taking a moment to relish in the feeling of cool air blowing from the vents. The relief was short-lived, as the announcer called your station just a couple of minutes later. With a bag in each hand, you exited the train car and began your walk home. The night air was hot and still, but cicadas had quieted down to a low hum from within the neighborhood trees. A soft tune interrupted the silence as your phone rang, muffled from inside your pocket. Switching the bags to one hand, you dug in and answered, hoping the unfamiliar number wasn’t another contact from Gojo.

The sound of your name from the other end of the line caught your breath in your chest.

“I’ve been trying to reach you, are you alright?”

You continued on your way home in stunned silence for a few steps. On the other line was the voice of Maya, a woman your mother’s age who worked with you at your last job. She was spunky and kind, looking out for you when you worked together. She would cover for you at night when you arrived late from your previous job. When you worked with her into the early hours of the morning, she’d laugh and tell wild stories from her youth when she used to hang around with bad kids. You always thought she was exaggerating, but the tales were enthralling, to say the least.

“Yes, yes, I’m great. It’s so good to hear fro-”

“They said they fired you,” her voice was tense as she cut you off.

“Yes, I got the letter in the mail.”

“They said you just stopped coming to work. They said you went to the hospital.”

You continued on your path, grip tightening on the bags you were carrying in your opposite hand. Guilt tugged at your chest.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called, Maya,” you replied softly. “There has been a lot going on.”

You began to climb the back stairs of your apartment, the outdoor light flickering weakly against the darkness of the alleyway. In your ear, Maya chastised you with rising emotion in her voice.

“And I had to get your new number from a friend of a friend. I thought something happened to you!”

“Maya, I’m so sorry. It’s been a really hard few months.”

You fumbled through your purse, looking for your house keys as you balanced the phone on your shoulder. The squeak in her voice was heartbreaking, and your guilt gnawed away at your feelings, bringing tears prickling to the backs of your eyes. The outdoor hall light flickered as you searched, leaving you in the darkness for seconds at a time as you felt for your keys, mentally cursing your landlord for not fixing things around the complex right away.

Maya sniffed loudly on the other line, grumbling about getting emotional on the phone.

“At the very least, you’re alright. Catch up with me sometime, okay? I have to start work, I just wanted to yell at you first.”

You laughed weakly as you let yourself into your apartment, just as the hall light outside went out completely. Plastic bags settled onto the floor with a soft rustle as you locked the door behind you and took your shoes off.

“I’ll call you properly to catch up,” you promised before ending the call.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed deeply at the late hour and rolled up your sleeves. You emptied the bags on your counter, setting about making yourself a meal for work tomorrow. Thoughts of lunch, conversations with Gojo, and the work that awaits tomorrow sat heavily on your mind as you brought out a cutting board. The ache in your neck persisted, tightening as you bowed your head over your sink to wash a bright red pepper. The sound of splashing water echoed in your empty apartment, the bedroom dark as the kitchen light didn’t reach the other end of your flat. Your headache traveled to your brain, painfully ringing between your ears. Suddenly you gasped, dropping the knife you didn’t realize you’d picked up. You shook the fog from your brain, watching droplets of bright red blood drip from your index finger to the wooden cutting board, splashing onto your clean vegetables.

Stupid, clumsy …

You cursed yourself mentally as you washed the injured finger below the water still running in the sink, ribbons of blood staining the clean water as it swirled down the drain. How could you be so absent-minded? Tears of frustration again prickled the corners of your eyes. With a paper towel, you wrapped your finger the best you could, then swept the blood-stained board and vegetables into the sink. Abandoning your project with a disgusted sigh, you left the sink a mess to remove your clothes and crawl into bed, deep under the covers. Exhaustion pressed its weight into you, sinking deeper into your bedding. You fell into a restless sleep, knowing tomorrow would be much the same.

The sound of your alarm startled you awake the next morning. Faint light streamed through the balcony door, soft rays of early sun illuminating the dresser across from your bed. You heaved and panted as you wiped the sweat from your brow, afterimages of your nightmare fresh in your mind's eye. The white-haired sorcerer had appeared in your dream moments before, sitting at the edge of your bed while you hovered on the edge of sleep. But once he stood, straightening to his full height, limbs extending to a frightening spindly length and his face distorted into a twisted smile with pointed teeth…

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you rose from bed and hurried off to the bathroom to wash up for work, trying to shake the images from your brain. The headache that began last night had returned with a vengeance in the morning, piercing through your head to fight your own concentration of thoughts. The level of stress was alarming, you thought to yourself as you went through the motions of preparing for your day. Catching the view of the sink, you mentally added the kitchen cleanup to your to-do list. Moments later, you were putting your shoes on, keys in hand, and ready to leave for work. As you reached for the doorknob, sharp pain through your head stopped you in your tracks in the entryway, dropping your keys onto the floor and grasping the hair on the side of your head. You gasped aloud in pain, the ringing in your ears increasing to a deafening whine. It brought tears to your eyes as you struggled through the inescapable hurt. The sound of your doorbell in front of you brought your attention back to reality, the ringing suddenly silenced. Your hands trembled at the sudden release of pain, shaking from the endurance. You threw open your door angrily, still shaken from the memory of the pain in your head.

“What?”

The hall light outside flickered weakly against the failing daylight outside. Gojo Satoru stood outside with a wide grin, two paper shopping bags hanging loosely from his elbow. Dressed in his school uniform and blindfold, his hair stood out starkly white against the dusky sky behind him. You stared over his shoulder, then snapped your head back to the clock on the microwave.

9:21pm

Gojo tutted at you as he let himself inside, walking past you into the kitchen to place the bags on the counter. Your name dropped casually from his lips, as if he had said it a thousand times before.

“Why so grumpy today?”

“You’re awfully familiar for an uninvited guest,” you replied.

“I texted you yesterday,” Gojo said with a chuckle. “I’d never drop by unannounced, that would be rude.”

You took a deep breath in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose once again. Fear crept into your brain, tingling from the back of your neck and reaching over into your head. Panic rose in your throat as you struggled to remain calm. What just happened? You could barely formulate an argument, the exhaustion weighing down your thoughts.

Gojo regarded you curiously, his head tilted in your direction to watch as you stood silently in the entryway. He leaned his long frame against your kitchen counter, looking over his shoulder to peer into the sink with a frown.

“How is that new job? You look tired.”

You returned your gaze to the stranger in your kitchen, brazenly leaning against your counters with his hands in his pockets. His presence unnerved you; the casual way he walked in and made comments on your appearance agitated you. You gritted your teeth against the negative feelings swirling in your chest, tightening their grip on your lungs. With soft footsteps, you strode to the sink, standing next to Gojo as you reached for the kettle. His tall frame towered over you, watching your movements with curiosity from behind his blindfold.

“It’s fine,” you replied quietly, trying to calm your pounding heart. You filled it and placed it on the stove, avoiding the gaze of the sorcerer towering over you above the sink. Your regular cup awaited you at the drying rack; you reached on your tiptoes for a second from the cupboard, but Gojo reached into the cabinet to retrieve it easily. He held the cup in front of you, waiting for you to look back at him.

“Office job, you said?” he pressed.

Grabbing the cup from his hands and avoiding the heat from his piercing stare, you placed it next to yours on the counter to await the water. Searching the next cupboard for the ground coffee, you stammered something about working late after hours to impress your new boss. You babbled on as you haphazardly tossed open the cutlery drawer, contents clattering with the force, and pulled out spoons for you and your guest. With one hand you waved on your conversation convincingly, the other reaching for the kettle. Before you could reach it, your hand was halted suddenly, wrist grasped by Gojo’s in a lightning quick motion, your fingers a split second from connecting to the heated sides of the metal kettle. Beside his strongly gripped hand, the remainder of last night’s knife accident gleamed under the kitchen lights, swollen and threatening to bleed again at a moment’s notice.

“Be careful,” he said flatly, dropping your hand from his grip. He crossed his feet over one another and folded his arms across his chest, considering you from behind his blindfold.

“Any curses hanging around?” He tilted his head to one side.

You rubbed your eyes hard, trying to relieve the pressure in your head. Your mind flashed his grinning image from your nightmare last night, pointed teeth smiling over your bed, illuminated white in the moonlight.

“No.”

Gojo looked at you for a moment more before turning away from you to dig into the contents of the paper shopping bags, retrieving a bakery box of sweets and excitedly chatting about the contents he chose. You strained to listen, some of his words drowned out by the throbbing in your head. He gestured animatedly with his hands, opening the box and pointing to an assortment of cookies. The smell of chocolate confectionary raised bile in your throat, the taste of acid coating your tongue. Covering your eyes with your hands to block the piercing glare of the kitchen light, you took a deep breath to settle nausea rising in your stomach.

The dull clanking of metal brought your attention back, dropping your hands to locate the source of the noise. A small gasp escaped your lips into the empty train car where you found yourself. Your stocking legs and mid-length work dress were clean and pressed, your purse on the seat beside you. The city's twinkling lights shone in the window behind your head as you traveled along the rails. The car was utterly empty and devoid of people, overhead fluorescent lights flickering faintly in time with the lurch of the train. You leapt to your feet, head swiveling around you in fright. In your stomach, an unsettling fear clenching your insides. As soon as the train slowed to a halt at the next station, you ran out of the car and onto the platform, ignoring the announcement of the station name. You ran swiftly through the empty station, eerily quiet without other passengers. The click of your heels echoed in the lofty ceiling of the station, the flap of your dress against your legs. The air outside was still, suffocatingly hot and humid with the threat of thunderstorms. The bright digital sign on the platform announced the late hour, nearly midnight, as you dashed below it on your way down the staircase and onto street level. Shadows danced as you passed the abandoned streets of this unfamiliar neighborhood, your purse bouncing beside you as you run. The faint night breeze ruffled papers and refuse on the abandoned sidewalks around the station. You tucked your hands under your arms, shoulders tense with rising fight and your stomach twisting with anxiety. The return of your headache made you stumble, tripping over your steps and catching a light pole for support. Your breath caught in your throat, your stomach threatening to spill its contents into the street. Shakily, you took a step, and then another, fighting through the bitter pain that seized your mind. With every step, you felt less connected to the ground, each step becoming lighter and lighter until you relaxed into the weightless feeling of floating. In this dreamy state, your toe caught a sharp edge, propelling you forward and returning your attention solidly back to earth.

With outreached hands, you caught yourself again by a light pole, encircling it to support your unsteady body and stop yourself from falling. Below your socked feet, the edge of the metal railing drops off menacingly to the creekbed below. You cried out in shock, your voice carrying into the empty night. Your footing was unsteady, and you squeezed the pole tighter for more support; your muscles contracted tightly in fear as you searched wide-eyed for answers in the space around you. The hum of cicadas in the trees, the tinkling of water in the creek below, the hot night air laying slick on your glistening skin. It was all too familiar.

Hesitantly, you dropped your eyes to the path of the bridge behind you. Beneath the railing where you stood, your shoes neatly aligned as if you had just stepped out of them into the entry of your home. A short distance away, on the path lay a weathered pair of brown shoes, long abandoned and exposed to the elements - a pair of brown shoes you had been looking for. Your brain went cold with realization, recognition of your discarded footwear sending panic through your veins. The purse you had been wearing lay open in the middle of the path, items strewn across the bridge carelessly. With agonizing effort, you turned your head back down to the creekbed, locking eyes with the spot where you had awoken nearly two months before. Thoughts swirling and garbled, the feeling of vertigo swayed your vision, and you adjusted your grip carefully on the pole. You willed yourself to move, to turn away and hop down from the railing, but your muscles failed you as you stood frozen in place. Heartbeat was loud in your ears as you stared down at the rocks unblinkingly, bile rising in your throat. Breath caught in your chest at the beckoning ground below, you turned back at the path behind, unable to will your limbs to get down.

“You’re back.”

The voice carried from across the path, loud and clear from the sorcerer leaned against the railing on the opposite side of the bridge. His dark school uniform blended against the dark of the late night, snowy white hair illuminated by the moonlight. Gojo’s tone was serious, you could see the frown on his face clearly from where you stood, his eyes hidden behind his blindfold. The vision of his lanky body made you flinch, muscles twitching with restraint and fear, willing your feet to flee. You gripped the pole tighter, knuckles white with effort and squirming from Gojo’s looming presence. He crossed his feet where he stood and thrust his hands into his pockets, addressing you from his perch on the other railing.

“On that night in June, you jumped from this railing to your death below,” he began. “Except you didn’t die.”

Your eyes narrowed on the sorcerer, your breathing rapid and shallow, the heat of rising emotion on your face.

You knew.

He paused for a moment, waiting for you to object before continuing, “Your bloody body lay on the rocks below, attracting curses for hours, swarming to this neighborhood. Our special-grade target dragged you under this bridge.” He tapped the heel of his shoe on the ground in emphasis.

No, no, no. How could I?

“Seems luckily for you, it was sent off suddenly, ultimately saving your life but leaving a tooth behind in your abdomen. Soon after, you walked home alive and in one piece. Our investigation later began with a bloody smear, and a trail that led to you.”

You stared unblinkingly as he spoke, tears filling your eyes and spilling over onto your cheeks.

You knew the whole time.

“Questions remain,” he began, voice dropping dangerously low. “Why you jumped, and also why you’re here again.”

“You knew the whole time,” you croaked, your voice hoarse. An accusation. Your eyes flicked back to the inviting rocks below.

“Is this what you want to do?” he asked, ignoring your comment.

You flinched at the question, swiftly turning back to face the rocks in the creek, glittering sinisterly in the moonlight. Gojo remained quiet, but you could feel his gaze's heat piercing your back. Your knees trembled with the effort to keep your stocking feet from slipping on the metal railing where you stood. The steely grip on the light pole was the only thing keeping you from your doom. Gojo stared hard at you, tensed and awaiting action from the silent girl standing on the railing of a bridge while looking down into the abyss. Several long minutes passed without action, only the faint breeze bringing momentary relief to the tense environment.

And then, you jumped.

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6