getosrkive

he watched you through the mirror as he removes the last of his clothes, leaving him in just his pants, and pauses at the sight of you curled up with your book. something warm flickers in his dark eyes before he schools them back to neautrality.

he loved the sight of you in bed. the way the sun was dancing across your bare legs and up your thighs. the way you looked in nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of those colourful panties with the tiny little bow on the front.

he slowly makes his way over to the end of the bed and lowers himself as he crawls up to press a gentle kiss against your shin. he nuzzles into your skin, his nose breathing you in.

"baby, i'm trying to read…" a small chuckle falls from your lips. that sweet sound he loves so dearly.

"keep reading, don't let me distract you." he hums as he continues to press little kisses up your legs.

you shake your head adorningly and return to your book, but you only get half a page through before geto is wrapping his large hands around your thighs and tugging you closer. your head falls more against your pillow now as he runs his nose against your panties.

"what happened to letting me read?" you close your book, keeping your thumb there as a bookmark for the moment as you give him a pointed look.

he looks up at you from between your legs with that signature smirk that made you weak in the knees, "i'm not stopping you."

you inhale deeply, letting out a slight huff, and reopen your book. you try to focus on the words in front of you, the story that is suppose to be unfolding, but coming out as nothing more than a jumbled mess in your head. and when geto pushes your legs apart and delicately moves your panties to the side, you all but lose your mind.

he laughs quietly as he feels you shiver against him. he can tell that you're trying to hold back, even though your body is begging for him now. he takes his time, running his tongue up your inner thigh, just barely touching you, but enough to drive you wild. he knows how impatient he's being, how torturous this is for you.

"just so you know... this is what you call distracting."

he hums softly in agreement, but the grin on his lips is anything but innocent. "i suppose so."

then, with his eyes fully trained on yours, he presses one agonizingly slow kiss right where you needed him the most.

a shuddered breath escapes you and you can't help but open yourself up to him more. "geto..."

he groans low in his throat at the sound of his name, your voice so sweet and needy. "shh, my love," he murmurs back against you, pressing another kiss. this time lingering a little longer.

his fingers dig into your thighs just slightly as he drags them apart even more. "you taste so good," he admits gruffly before diving in properly now.

your hands move to coin through his dark locks, tugging slightly at the strands. your book has fallen beside you on the bed now, your page lost and long forgotten about.

he buries further into you, his tongue sliding over your sensitive flesh. the taste of you is intoxicating, and he knows he won't be able to get enough even after this. he wants more, needs more, and he knows he'll get it.

one hand moves from your thigh to hold one of yours and he uses it like an anchor. a lifeline that keeps him grounded even as he starts to lose himself in the act.

with his nose brushing against your clit and his tongue delving even deeper, your arousal coats his tastebuds, sending him into an almost frenzy.

geto can't help but lose himself in you, drinking you in like a man dying of thirst. he's so hungry for you, so desperate to please you in any way possible.

he can feel your hand tightly gripping his, and he squeezes it back in agreement. he'll follow your lead, whatever you want he will give it.

"fuck-baby... i can't..." you struggle to get the words out, your back arching off the bed.

he groans against you once more, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through your body. he can feel how close you are - how much power he has over you in this moment - and it makes his chest tight with something fierce and possessive.

"come for me," he growls, the words muffled but clear as his tongue drags slow circles around your clit before sucking lightly. "i want to taste it."

"oh-oh-OH!" you cry in pleasure as he pushes you to your orgasm.

geto drinks in each and every moan that leaves your lips, his eyes locked on your face as you come undone on in his mouth. it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, and it makes him ache with a deep, primal need. he wants to keep you like this forever, his to worship and love and possess.

he swallows every last drop before slowly withdrawing his tongue, licking his lips slowly as he looks up at you.

"i take it you'll welcome my distractions from now on, my love?" he asks so nonchalantly that it almost infuriates you.

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Later that day, you find yourself squished in a booth between Gojo and Shoko. Gojo’s ridiculously long legs are spread and taking up half the booth, so you and Shoko are squeezed together. 

“Dude, can you close your legs?,” Shoko says dryly.

“Seriously, I can barely move,” you add on.

Gojo shrugs and slouches back in the booth. “Perks of being the strongest. Besides,” he turns his head and gives you his infuriating trademark smirk, “if it bothers you that much, you can just sit in my lap~”

“Eugh. Classy,” you roll your eyes.

Gojo, ever the instigator, leans closer and rests his chin on your shoulder. He pouts at you. “Heyyy. Don’t be mean. You’re usually so nice. What’s got your panties in a twist, hmm? Tell Papa Gojo.”

“Firstly, I’m perfectly fine. Secondly, never fucking call yourself that again,” you retort.

“Yeah, I got an actual chill down my spine,” Shoko interjects.

Gojo just blows air in your ear and leans back into his seat.

“They’re taking foreverrrrrr,” he groans. “Can’t we just order without them? I’m hungry.”

Of course, Suguru and his not-quite-girlfriend choose that moment to appear. Suguru’s dressed in his usual uniform, and his face is as neutral as ever. 

“Ordering without us, hmm? So inconsiderate, Satoru,” Suguru chides. “Anyway, hello, everybody. Say hello to Keiko. She’s the one I’ve been telling you all about.”

Keiko stands at Suguru’s right side, and she gives a small wave as he introduces her. God, she’s cute. You can immediately see why Suguru’s interested in her. She’s about 5’6, she’s got a good sense of style, she’s gorgeous, and the smile on her face is almost blinding. You’ve never been less excited to meet someone who seems so sweet.

Various greetings pass around the table as the two of them take their seats. It’s a little awkward at first, but Keiko manages to break the silence.

“So…do you guys all go to the same school or something? Your uniforms are all so similar.”

Gojo leans forward and peers at Keiko. “What, Suguru didn’t tell you about us? I’m hurt. We’re all students at Tokyo Jujutsu High. We’re all third-years.”

Keiko nods and then talks about her own school. The four of you try to relate your own experiences to hers, but how can you really compare learning how to fight and use cursed tools to learning geometry and world history?

The evening gets more and more awkward as time goes on. As much as the four of you like to pretend you’re normal students, you’re just not. The gap between you four and a normal eighteen-year-old has never been more apparent than right now. Shoko’s practically a doctor at this point with the amount of medical knowledge she’s been stuffing into her brain since she was a kid, Satoru and Suguru are almost completely preoccupied with training and missions, and you…do things. You think. Honestly, most of your free time is spent training, on missions, or spending time with Suguru, Shoko, or Gojo. Maybe you should pick up a hobby.

Keiko leaves after you’ve all eaten your food, excusing herself with some mumbled comment about a school project waiting for her at home. You, Gojo, and Shoko watch her leave, and Suguru puts his head in his hands.

“Wow. Okay. I knew we were weird but fuck…” he mutters. 

“Hey, chill. She seemed into you. She probably just thinks you have weird friends,” Shoko replies.

“Yeah, you really should’ve warned her about Gojo,” you cut in.

“Hey! I was delightful!” 

“You asked her how it felt to live in poverty,” says Shoko. “Okay, in my defense–”

Suguru cuts him off by tapping the table. “Alright, no, it’s good. It’s great. Just remind me to never bring anyone around you guys before she’s actually my girlfriend. She probably thinks I’m a freak now.”

“Hey,” you say, easily slipping into the role of good friend, “you never know. Maybe she really did have a project. It never hurts to reach out again.”

‘Why the fuck would I say that?!’

You could kick yourself. Sure, being supportive is a reflex at this point, but that doesn’t mean you have to shoot yourself in the foot like that.

“You’re right,” Suguru says glumly. “You always know how to bring me back to earth. Thank you.”

God, you hate yourself for the dopamine burst that your brain gives you.

“Of course. I’m always here for you,” you smile.

Suguru excuses himself soon after, and Gojo and Shoko turn on you.

“Oh my god–” Gojo wheezes.

“You’re so obvious, it kinda hurts to watch,” Shoko winces.

“You loooove him, don’t you?” 

You shove Gojo’s head away and sink down into the booth. If it’s so easy for those two to see it, why can’t Suguru?

“S’not funny. Y’know, no one else knows how he likes his tea. No one else knows that he likes red bean paste mochi the best. No one else knows that he likes having his back rubbed during hugs,” you mutter into your hands.

Gojo and Shoko share a look over your head.

She’s truly gone, huh?

“Sheesh, since when did you turn into our resident yearning machine?” Gojo asks. He manages to shut up at the miserable look you give him. “Hey, seriously, though. You need to tell him before he gets any farther with Keiko. No more of that self-sacrificing ‘you should talk to her’ bullshit, okay? It’s weird seeing you so mopey. I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, like, you shouldn’t even be this mopey over a man, anyway. Just let me know if he hurts you for real, and I’ll make him pay for it,” Shoko says casually. 

At least you know you’ll always have their support, no matter how unhinged or violent.

all written content belongs to gojos-cherry-bomb. do not repost, translate, or feed my work into ai. i do not own the original characters.

Baku was tasked by his father to quickly pick up a few grocery items on his way home from school, so that’s exactly what he did. He stopped by a small grocery store near his house and walked inside. As the sliding doors opened, a cool breeze hit him. He stepped in confidently, strolling through the store while humming a tune, scanning the aisles for the items he was told to get.

But then he turned into one of the aisles—and that’s when he saw her. Probably the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on.

You were just grabbing a light snack before meeting up with your friends when you felt someone’s gaze on you from the corner of your eye. Turning to confirm your suspicion, you saw a black-haired boy looking at you with a hint of awe on his face. As he noticed you staring back at him, clearly confused, he quickly composed himself.

“…Are you looking for something?” you asked, stepping aside, assuming you were blocking his way.

“N-no, no, it’s nothing,” he said, trying to flash a confident smile. Then, walking toward you in a smug kind of way, he dropped a pickup line—one of those cheesy ones.

“Are you a star? Because that beauty is out of this world,” he said with a proud grin.

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious, but it was so corny that you let out a soft laugh. He probably thought you were laughing because of the pickup line.

“What are you trying to do?” you asked, still a bit confused, though now with a grin.

“Oh, I just… wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.” (Was I always this awkward? Damn, I swear I’m usually cool around girls…) he thought to himself.

“You could’ve just said that from the start.”

“You’re… right,” he said, giving you a sheepish grin.

That was the first day we met. Not long after, Baku started visiting that exact store more often—clearly hoping to bump into me again. It worked. Within a month or so, we started dating.

---

We were on a basketball court, just goofing around with Baku and Gotak, taking turns trying to score. Every time I got the ball, Baku became my number one fan, cheering me on and hyping me up—even though the whole point of our silly game was to take the ball from each other. Gotak mostly rolled his eyes at Baku’s behavior, but he let it slide. He had always known that when Baku eventually got into a relationship, he’d be a full-blown lover boy. It was just in his nature—too obvious to ignore.

After a few rounds, I was exhausted from all the running and jumping, so we decided to take a short break. I sat down on the bench, and Baku followed right after. He sat beside me and confidently placed an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

“You’re like a blossoming flower radiating in the dark,” he said, grinning down at me.

“What the hell are you even saying?” I laughed.

“I’m just trying to charm m’lady,” he said playfully, then gave me a firm kiss on the forehead—followed by a few more pecks across my face.

“Hey, Baku!” I giggled, lightly slapping his arm as he kept doing it.

Gotak was sitting on the court with a water bottle in hand, watching our little moment. Baku caught his gaze and suddenly shouted, “Jealous?”

“Fuck off, Baku,” Gotak replied jokingly, rolling his eyes and pulling out his phone.

“He’s totally jealous,” Baku whispered, looking back at me.

“Or maybe you’re just being too affectionate.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It is, but… it’s like you’re trying to show off our relationship and remind him he’s single.”

“Let him be single—I don’t care,” he shrugged. “All I want is to be right beside my queen.”

“Oh, whatever,” I said, laughing again.

After he had refused to continue doing Baekjin’s little tasks, he came to stay with you. No one knew about you. At least, Baku thought no one knew about you. It wasn’t hard for the Union to track you down, figure out the connection between you two, and use you as leverage to get to Baku. Baekjin freely used your boyfriend’s friends and father, and now you.

You attended a completely different school; only saw Baku on some days of the week. You kept yourself out of the trouble the guys were facing. Baku didn’t want you to get involved in any way, and only told you the least concerning parts of what was happening. It shouldn’t have to concern you what mess Eunjang High was facing. It was his job to deal with it. He never thought Baekjin would somehow get his hands on you.

When Baku got the impudent call from Baekjin asking if he would still refuse to do what he wanted when they had you hostage, he saw red. More than a few faces left bloodstained that night. Baku left with you in his arms. 

You stirred in his arms halfway back to your apartment, groaning in pain and blinking your eyes open. He walked a little slower and held you a little tighter. 

“Baku… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I should’ve made sure they never got to you. It’s on me for thinking they wouldn’t find you,” he sighed, gulping down the guilt and trying to find the means to smile. For you. 

“Hey… I’m okay. You got me now,” you closed your eyes again, smiling through the exhaustion and pain. Being in your boyfriend’s arms always gave you a sense of comfort. Even when you had bruises all over your body and multiple cuts. Even when you could still picture it all fresh in your mind. 

Baku had the basic first aid kits in his room, along with plenty of bandages he was used to applying by himself. He made sure you were comfortable on his bed before starting to inspect where all your injuries were.

“Tell me honestly. How badly did you beat them up?” you asked, nervous for the answer. Baku knew not to cross the line, but there was no one he was more protective over than you. As soon as you got hurt, all sense went out the window. You could imagine the levels he could reach to get back at them. 

“They’re all still alive,” he said carefully, flashing you a reassuring smile that did nothing to curb your worries.

“Park Humin.”

He frowned, hands pausing their unwrapping of a large bandage. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Baku,” you corrected, your voice softer this time. “Violence isn’t the answer for violence.”

“It’s the only language they understand,” he said simply. “I don’t like it either. You know I’d never fight someone unnecessarily,” he reached for your hand, the gentle squeeze he gave you enough to relax your tense muscles. 

“I know. I just don’t want you to get hurt too.”

He nodded, “I’ll make sure I don’t then, okay?” He smiled; the kind of big grin that you could always count on to make you feel better. 

“Okay,” you smiled as well. More tentative and held back than Baku, like you knew that the situation was much more complicated than promises to not get hurt could suffice for. But you chose to let his words silence your anxiety for a while. For the current moment, you were both safe. That was all that mattered. 

“Let’s get you bandaged up,” Baku got back to work, disinfecting any scrape or cut and covering them with carefully placed bandages. Each time you winced from the pain, he would kiss you gently, and by the end of it, the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. 

Some people only saw your boyfriend as loud and overbearing, while others feared his physical strength. Most students at Eunjang High respected him, but rarely did they ever get to know him. Few knew the challenges he faced, and even fewer knew how caring he truly was. 

But you knew him inside out, and if there was ever anyone who you would stick by for the rest of your life, Baku was just that. 

And it frustrates him to no end. Why can’t he say it? What is so difficult about saying those three little words? They’re just words! People across the globe say those words everyday, so why can’t he?

It can’t possibly be because he doesn’t mean them. There's no other possible explanation for this fullness in his chest - it must be love. It has to be.

There comes a night, however, an ordinary night where his head is in your lap and your fingers weave aimlessly through his hair. There’s a gentle smile on your face and your eyes are half lidded, brimming with so much affection that if he looks for too long, his eyes will start to sting.

“Suguru,” you sing, gently pulling him from his thoughts. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?”

“Mm. Something on your mind?”

He smiles crookedly and reaches up to cradle your cheek. “You.”

“Flirt.”

“It’s true.”

You purse your lips to hide your smile. “What are you thinking about?”

“Kissing you,” he says without missing a beat. “How it’s an expression all on its own.”

You raise an amused brow. “It is?”

Geto sits up a little, propping himself up on his hand so that you’re at eye level. “You disagree?”

“No. But I’d like an example.”

It’s his turn to look amused. “An example? Alright then.”

Leaning in, he lets you feel the warmth of his breath tickle your skin before he presses his lips to the apple of your right cheek. “That means, ‘I think you’re cute’.

Your cheeks heat up slightly and you smile bashfully. “Another?”

A kiss to your forehead. “‘You’re endearing.’”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” you ask and he scoffs.

“No, it’s not.”

You hum like you’re not convinced. “I think I might need another example or two.

“Greedy,” he grins, kissing your nose. “That usually means ‘you’re silly’.” Further exaggerated confusion scrunches your features and he rolls his eyes and leans in, until his lips barely brush yours. “Still not enough?” he whispers and you shake your head no, not daring to speak.

And then, he kisses your lips. He’s given you this sort of kiss before. Tender, slow, deep - the kind that makes you want to cling to him and drown in the feeling of his lips. He makes sure you savour it, makes sure you feel it in your fluttering heart. You blink at him dreamily when he breaks the kiss.

“Those ones always feel like an ‘I love you’.”

Opportunity knocks and Geto answers after taking a deep breath. “That’s because they are.”

those very same hydrangeas surround him, on all sides, framing his figure like a painting come to life. splotches of colour, flecks of purple and pink and blue, clashing with the gray sky and the black umbrella in his hand. he looks a little disheveled; hair a little frizzy, bangs sticking to his skin. a peaceful expression on his face. 

you see recognition flash in his eyes, when they meet yours, a tiny spark in the amber hue. 

you take that as your cue to move closer. 

he waits for you, always so patient, smiling as you look both ways before crossing the street — shoes hitting the concrete in a steady thud, thud, thud. a splash from the puddle you step in.

you’re in a good mood. veins flooding with sugar and buzzing with joy, raindrops sticking to your skin and the plastic bag in your hand, absently humming along to a song playing through your headphones. your clothes are soaked, but you’re smiling; swinging the bag of treats as you walk. bags of chips, colourful lollipops, bottles of ramune, clinking together for every step you take. enough to last you a couple weeks. 

in your good mood, you ended up stocking up on your classmates’ favorites — bouncing on the balls of your feet at the thought of giving them away, seeing their satisfied little expressions. you even got something for gojo. he’ll have to fight for it, obviously, but you look forward to seeing his face light up when he takes a bite of the soft mochi.

you like giving them things. it’s fun. it makes you feel like a normal high school kid. 

right now, nothing can dampen your spirits. the entire world smells of rain, and hydrangeas, and apple blossoms from the backyards behind you. a scent that creeps into your bloodstream, sneaks into your breath. 

a smile grows on your lips — blooming even brighter when you step into your classmate’s orbit.

”hey!” you chirp, raising a hand up in greeting.

”hey,” geto echoes, voice honeyed and smooth, bringing a hand up to wipe at his forehead. wet from the humid air. ”out on a walk?”

you smile, lifting your plastic bag up slightly to get his attention. raindrops stick to the plastic, to the tips of your fingers. you clasp it tightly. ”just went to get some snacks. you?”

”i wanted to get some fresh air,” he smiles. eyeing you up and down. ”did you forget your umbrella?” 

silently, he takes in your appearance. your breathing is a tiny bit laboured, and the flimsy, oversized hoodie you’re wearing is sticking to your skin. it’s all that protects you from the steady downpour; no umbrella to be seen. you look small, tilting your head upwards, meeting his gaze. he feels the beginnings of a smile play at his lips.

seeing the rain cascade down your skin, he can’t help but be exasperated. all you do is blink, seemingly unbothered, as if you aren’t straight on the road to catching a cold. you can be a little scatterbrained. 

maybe that’s why he can’t help but dote on you.

(that’s what satoru calls it, at least. suguru thinks it’s just called being nice — not like satoru would know anything about that.)

”oh. no, i didn’t forget.” you scratch at the back of your neck. ”just didn’t know it was going to rain.”

the sudden downpour gave you no time to prepare, heavy and abrupt — clouds obscuring the glowing sun in what felt like no more than a second. like someone high above flicked the light switch of the world. all you could do was pull your hood up, try to walk under whatever apple tree you came across. it didn’t help much, though. 

you shift your weight from one foot to another, soles weighed down, dripping with dew. sort of sheepish.

geto chuckles, raspy and soft. a little teasing. ”didn’t you see the weather report?”

”well, it… just slipped my mind, i guess.”

silently, you avert your gaze. now you remember — yaga-sensei did mention that, didn’t he? you heard him say it. but you just forgot.

geto is laughing at you, a little, from within his eyes; at least that’s the impression you get. so you continue, eager to defend your honour. 

”it’s fine, though,” you assure him, smiling brightly. a sunny grin. ”i like the rain!”

geto raises an unimpressed brow, but the expression fades away just as swiftly — giving way to something softer. ”you’re heading back to the dorms, right?” he asks, continuing once you give him a slight nod. ”then we can share.”

you blink. one moment passes, then two. but geto only smiles, shifting his umbrella a little, hoping you’ll get the hint. silently beckoning you over. 

you feel oddly flustered.

in truth, you and him aren’t particularly close. he’s nice to you, sure, but geto is nice to everyone. you’d like to call him a friend, but what do you actually know about him? not much. 

suguru geto is a bit of an enigma. a little mysterious. he’s polite, well-mannered, and he seems like the most normal of your classmates — but the bar is in hell, because you know for a fact geto isn’t normal either. no normal guy deliberately chooses to keep his bangs like that. 

there’s a gap, there. a kind of inconsistency. he’s hard to approach, but he puts you at ease. pulls you in and scares you off. with a soft voice and kind smile, keen eyes and a heavy palm on your head. sometimes he brings you snacks when you study in the library, or helps you with homework. kind of like a dependable senpai. someone to lean on.

but then there’s that gap. 

the real geto, who you’ve only seen glimpses of, only ever in gojo’s vicinity, is boyish and bright — he laughs and pouts and takes up space. he glows brighter than the sun. but the geto you’re seeing, right now, is more like the moon. wearing a polite, patient smile. standing up straight.

waiting for you to join him under his umbrella.

(he’s kind. but is he doing it because wants to, or because he feels obliged to?)

”… oh.” a pause. ”ah — no, it’s fine!” you take a step back, quick to reassure him. ”i can walk there without it! i’m already soaked, anyway.”

geto observes you. for a moment, something in his expression flickers; a crease between his brows.

then he shakes his head. still wearing a comforting smile, the same one he always slips on when he’s around you. ”still. we don’t want you catching a cold,” he persists, sounding something like a nagging mother. ”you’ll miss the exam next week.”

and with that, your shoulders drop. 

right — the exam. the one you haven’t been studying for in the slightest, completely distracted by the feeling of summer in the air. the one you can’t fail, under any circumstances, because yaga-sensei can and will force you into taking summer classes for it. that exam. 

a wistful sigh leaves your lips. ”god, i wish.”

geto chuckles — a little deeper than usual. it makes your heart flutter. then he’s beckoning you over, again, with a slight shake of his head. 

”c’mon. there’s enough room for two.”

he gives you that same familiar smile, and you’re forced to admit that you might be slightly weak to it. something about the way his lips tug upwards, the light crinkle of his eyes. a certain glint in them that tells you he’s not budging on the issue. 

you’re still a little hesitant. but…

(this is a chance, isn’t it? a chance to bridge that gap between you.)

silently, shyly, you join him under his umbrella. shielding you from the still falling rain.

pitter patter, pitter patter. you don’t know where the rain ends and your own heartbeat begins. he’s so close — your shoulders nearly brushing together. it makes your nerves bubble up, in rhythm with the droplets bouncing off the cover up above. you feel stiff. the tiny, miniscule gap between you feels like a sweltering stove, radiating a heat that warns you to stay away. as if his touch could burn you. like this, you can even smell him; fresh laundry, an earthy cologne. the slightest hint of caffeine and tobacco. you blame it on shoko — the whole dormitory smells of cigarettes, thanks to her. 

it’s comforting, though. his scent. blending together with the aroma of rain, wet earth, blooming flowers. with his fragrance smoothing over all your senses, the closeness between you a constant reminder of the situation you’re in, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. 

with a quick murmur of thanks, you begin to walk, in tandem.

geto can’t help but steal a glance at you, out of the corner of his eye. you look a little meek, a little flustered. he hopes the narrow distance between you isn’t making you feel too uncomfortable. 

just to be sure, he angles his body away from yours. ever so slightly, one subtle step away, to make the gap a little wider. then, as discreetly as he can manage, he tilts the umbrella in your direction — not wanting the seemingly never-ending drops of rain to graze your skin. he can feel them, now, soaking through the material of his shirt, hitting his shoulder. but he doesn’t mind. 

you don’t seem to notice, and geto is relieved. he’s pretty sure you’d protest — and as enjoyable as another friendly squabble would be, he’d prefer to avoid it for now.

you’re nice. accommodating, he thinks, in a subtle kind of way. always showing up with trinkets after your little outings, offering to get everyone a drink on your way to the vending machines. you’re friendly with the other two; always nagging at shoko to stop smoking, even when she just rolls her eyes and calls you a goody two shoes. recently, you’ve even started to be patient with satoru, even when he tries to get a rise out of you. it wasn’t like that at the start of the year. geto wonders what changed. 

he’s a little interested in you. just a little. you’re sweeter than the other two, easier to worry over. he saw you trip over your own shoelaces last week. you’re a little clumsy, a bit of a ditz — airheaded. maybe that’s why he can’t help but feel protective of you. satoru brushes everything off with a cheeky grin, and shoko is self-sustaining, but you’re often in need of a helping hand. the last time he tried that with the other two, they wouldn’t stop calling him mother geto until he smacked them over the head with gojo’s shounen jump issue. 

it makes him feel out of place — when he doesn’t have anything to tend to. itchy, a feeling of dread crawling up his throat. peace and quiet feels suffocating, when he isn’t in total control over it.

so, in his own way, small as it may be, geto enjoys taking care of you. grabbing you a carton of strawberry milk, or warding satoru away when he’s annoying you a little too much. he likes the smile you grace him with when he does. it’s pretty. and it’s all geto really knows about you — that, and that there’s a tenderness to you that’s hard to fake. it’s not much to go on.

so this is the perfect opportunity to learn more. 

(a heartfelt connection. something he’s always, always craved. something that maybe he can finally have, with satoru, and shoko, and you — 

if you’re willing, that is.)

”hey,” he starts, breaking the rainfilled silence. keeping his umbrella steady, leading you both away from a big puddle in the middle of the sidewalk. ”can i ask you something?”

you raise your head to look at him. blinking owlishly, at the sudden question, nerves beginning to rise again. he sounds kind of serious. did you do something? paranoia gnaws anxiously at the ridges of your ribs, but all you can do is swallow empty air and stammer out a meek reply.

”… uh, sure!”

geto glances over at you, his eyes meeting yours. that gaze of his is kind of heavy — the deep colour of his eyes coaxing you closer, luring you in. honey and amber, splotches of cedar and flecks of gold.

they’re pretty.

”this might be kind of a weird question,” he begins, reaching a hand up to adjust his bun, sneaking a finger under the black hair tie. voice light; to put you at ease. ”but i’m just curious.” 

he looks ahead, at the street before you, only meeting your stare once you give him a slight tilt of your head. then he parts his lips.

”why did you come here?”

you blink. 

silently, confusion painting the interior of your iris, you stare at him. waiting for a clarification that doesn’t come, before giving him a hesitant answer. ”… to get snacks?”

geto has the audacity to laugh, after such a vague question. the sound is light and breathy, melting together with the pitter patter of the rain, and for some reason it strikes you as sincere. ”not like that,” he grins. ”i mean, why did you come to the school in the first place?”

ah. 

that’s a different question. harder to answer. he must notice your hesitance, the puzzlement in your features, because he’s quick to elaborate. hiding a smile behind his fist, disguised as a cough.

(you’re sort of cute when you’re confused.)

”i mean — it’s an odd choice, isn’t it? far off the map, barely any students....” you nod along, and he continues. ”i don’t know about your background. but moving away from home must be kind of tough, right?” when he glances in your direction, you notice a sparkle of genuine curiosity in his eyes. ”so i was curious about your reason. if you feel comfortable telling me, i mean.”

a hum. it buzzes in your throat, absentminded, as you stare into space. brows furrowed. 

geto gives you time, as much time as you need, always willing to wait. for a minute or so, the only sounds that fill the space around you are the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the plastic cover of umbrella, and the sound of your shoes meeting puddles on the street. silently, you ponder the question. thinking of your answer.

geto has a point. you’ve been curious, too — about how your classmates ended up in such an eccentric little school, so detached from the rest of the world. a quirky private school in the middle of nowhere. you must all be a little eccentric yourselves. that’s probably why you feel so safe with them — you get the sense that you’re all lacking something. something that would ward normal kids away from such an unorthodox choice.

you could say you were just going with the flow. a relative of yours used to work with yaga-sensei, and heard about his position at a newly reinstated private school — heard that he was looking for students to fill the roster. 

so you accepted.

(if it was really that simple, geto would already have his answer.)

what drew you in, more than anything, was the promise of something new. a strange, small school, far away from home; from the people you know, the town you know, the life that you’ve lived. far away from the person you are, the person you was, the person you’ve always been.

an escape. that’s all it was. 

a way out.

he’s still waiting for your answer, even now, trying to read your thoughts off your face. eyes trailing over every contour. very briefly, you consider dodging the question — but his silent, steady presence squeezes a little honesty out of you. 

you want to give him a genuine answer.

”… i guess,” you begin, weighing the words on your tongue. they feel stale, a little awkward, but not dishonest. ”i wanted to stop being me for a bit.” 

the words are unexpected, surprising even to your own ears — like your mouth and your mind weren’t quite cooperating, one ahead of the other, one not weighing in on the honest choice. they catch geto off guard. 

he looks at you, silently, attempts to dissect your expression; but he doesn’t succeed. 

for a second, something flashes in his eyes. a glimmer that you just barely catch, that you can still sense behind his eyelids when they flutter shut. you’re not sure what to call it. recognition, maybe, or something like empathy. a sense of acknowledgement. it’s gone when he opens his eyes. 

he doesn’t look at you when he answers.

”… i get that.”

there’s a depth to his words that you’re afraid to uncover. you feel their weight, all the same, glancing up at him, studying his expression, the humid drops of dew that stick to his lashes. and you feel a tug. faint, non-existent, the string between your pinkies —

a growing connection. 

(it makes you feel oddly bare.)

all you can give him is a chuckle, a little breathless. ”do you?” you ask, grinning weakly. ”it’s a little melodramatic.”

geto only smiles. silent, comfort personified. there’s no judgement in his eyes, none whatsoever — because he knows exactly what you mean.

fleeing from the past. 

it’s a kind of murder, he thinks. a rebirth.

maybe the two of you are similar. similar in the sense that he recognizes the shadow in your eyes, the one he sometimes sees in mirrors; familiar in the sense that you both suffer from that same sickening awareness. 

(maybe you want the same thing he wants, what he’s always wanted — 

control.)

it’s a realization that creeps up on you, the both of you, slow and steady. a sense of kinship. it envelops you, cradles you close, in the same way molten clouds cover the summer sky.

geto isn’t lying, you can tell. he does get it. you know, just from that tilt of his voice, the way his eyelashes flutter, his absent shifting from one foot to another. and it soothes your worries.

everything is silent, for a bit. you look down at the asphalt, at your own reflection in a puddle, and geto gazes at the bushes of hydrangeas to his right. you feel safe, right next to him, under his umbrella. and he feels content to have you there. your shoulders brush together, for a moment, and it sends a jolt through your heartbeat.

geto inhales a breath.

”by the way —” 

”— have you studied for the exam?”

you both still. blurting out the words at the same time, turning to look at each other; sheepishly blinking in the other’s direction.

then he barks out a laugh.

”sorry,” he hums, a sleek smile on his lips. bright and sheepish. ”what was that? the exam?”

”ah — yeah,” you feel heat settle on the back of your neck, crawling up your ears. ”have you, um, studied for it at all?”

geto moves the umbrella from one arm to the other, smoothly directing you to stand on his right instead of his left. guiding you with his hand on your lower back, ghosting the fabric of your clothing. he stretches his free arm, a little stiff.

”yeah,” he exhales. ”not a lot, though.”

”really?” you blink up at him, trying not to blush at how easily he maneuvered you. stupid, stupid heartbeat. ”you strike me as the honour student type…”

geto scoffs. it leaves his lips before he can tug it back. ”satoru said the same thing.”

a breath spills from your lips, almost a chuckle. you’re not sure how to feel about being compared to gojo, of all people, but you’ll let it slide this once. ”well, you just kinda have that vibe.”

now he’s huffing, tethering on the edge of something childish, and your smile grows. you’re seeing him make a lot of new expressions today. 

”why, though?” comes a sigh. he must be playing it up, a little — you almost get fooled into thinking he’s pouting. ”is it the hair? i don’t even wear glasses anymore...”

”well —” you pause. ”hold on, you used to wear glasses?”

all you get is an absent hum. he doesn’t notice your wide, shellshocked eyes. ”when i was younger. i got rid of them a couple years back.”

“oh…” you try to imagine it, for a second. he’d look frighteningly good in them. just barely, you manage to keep yourself from saying it out loud. ”i think it’s more just your general personality. like, you’re responsible and polite… or something.”

and geto chuckles; the intersection between a teasing smile and a soft grin. it’s just a little bit ethereal, painted over with the humid summer air. he turns towards you.

”and that makes me an honour student?” 

”… okay, maybe not.” you bring a hand up to your hair, fixing it absently. deflating a little. ”you just strike me as intelligent, i guess.”

geto smiles, again, as always. the chuckle that escapes him is faint and fond, and awfully soft, dripping down his lips. ”well, thank you.” 

his eyes are warm, burning into yours. all you can do is glance away. you still don’t really understand this sensation — why he’s suddenly so easy to talk to. why he feels like something other than just a classmate, when he looks at you like that. 

then again, geto has always been a natural at putting people at ease. maybe that’s why you can’t help but warm up to him, compliantly, the way a child dutifully follows the first butterfly they ever see — it’s a little too pretty to resist. 

you want to slip deeper into his world, you realize. you don’t want this moment to end so soon.

”you guys really get along, huh?” you change the subject, speaking slowly, savouring every syllable. there isn’t any rush to get the words out all at once, when you’re with him. 

geto blinks, tilting his head. 

”hm?”

“you and gojo, i mean.”

a glimmer passes through his eyes, as your query sinks in. ”ah. yeah.” his gaze strays upwards, and a contemplative look settles into his face. he knows what you’re after, what you’re really asking; why are the two of you so close? why do you put up with his antics? 

what do you see in him? 

he thinks it’s a fair question. it’s not like he hasn’t asked himself the very same thing, before — satoru can be annoying. ignorant, too, and terribly rude. a little prick. when he stole his curry bun yesterday, geto wanted to kill him. spoiled little brat.

(then again, he’s…)

”he’s… well.” geto exhales, a little breathless. tasting the words on his tongue. ”you know how he is — but he’s not a bad guy.” 

and it’s true. he really isn’t. satoru is a lot of things; rude and spoiled, cocky and bratty, an expert at ticking everyone off. but there’s a kind of charm, there. an innocence that geto admires. 

satoru is childish — because he is a child. a child who knows a lot of things that children shouldn’t know. a child who doesn’t know the most basic of things. satoru doesn’t know how to make friends. he doesn’t know how to ask for help, doesn’t know how to give it. he doesn’t know what cotton candy tastes like, because he’s never tried it before. 

his childhood couldn't have been very warm. it definitely wasn’t normal. 

is that why he puts up with him, then? out of pity? of course not. the bare thought of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. he’d never look down on satoru, like that — and he knows he’d hate him for it. if anything, geto thinks that maybe the two of them are close because he doesn’t give him any special treatment. even if satoru wasn’t treated with warmth or love, he was certainly coddled. spoiled. it’s evident, in the way that he acts.

but satoru isn’t a god, and he shouldn’t act like one. 

one punch, right across the face; knocking the white-haired boy off his feet. that’s where their friendship began. there were stars in satoru’s eyes, geto thinks, when he looked up at him from the ground. sunglasses fallen off from the impact, blue eyes entirely on display, catching the light of the sun — gleaming with a certain bewilderment. almost amazement. like he didn’t know he could be hit, didn’t know it was possible. the sun shone down on him, illuminating the vague bruising on his cheek, and geto wondered if that was the first punch the boy had ever taken.

it certainly wasn’t a first for him, when satoru lunged at him next —

it was a little juvenile. more than a little deranged. geto isn’t one to throw fists, in the first place — he’s out of practice. the punch he fed satoru might’ve been a little too forceful. he couldn’t help but feel bad, every so slightly, for putting a bruise on that irritatingly pretty face of his. 

but it still ended with satoru’s arm around his shoulder, a buzzing voice by his ear, proclaiming them as friends. cheery and bright.

geto couldn’t help but echo the statement.

(satoru is a lot of things. 

most of all, he’s really hard to hate.)

geto’s answer brings a smile to your face. ”yeah,” you hum, soft voice breaking him out of his reverie. ”he isn’t.”

he looks at you. silently, a question of his own brewing in his irises — and with you so close, close enough to touch, smiling at him like he’s an old friend… geto can’t help but indulge in his own curiosity. 

he tries to appear nonchalant, stealing a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. ”seems like the two of you are getting along better, too.” 

”me and gojo?” you blink, surprised. a little flustered. huffing out an amused breath, trying to brush off the bare thought. ”no way.”

geto laughs — it’s a deep sound, a full one. somehow very earnest. you wonder if that’s how his laugh always sounds, whenever gojo’s involved. ”oh, come on. you don’t hate him that much.” a teasing glint blooms in his eyes, as he scrutinizes you. ”or am i wrong?”

you pause. faltering, a little, gaze falling down to the pavement — then to the sky — then to him. and then back to the pavement. 

”… i mean…” you attempt to squeeze the words out from within your chest, but you can’t help but feel hesitant. as if gojo could jump out of the bushes at any moment, ready to tease you if you say anything that paints him in an even moderately decent light. ”i don’t… hate him. but he’s still annoying.” a pout slips onto your lips. “he has it out for me, you know.”

geto laughs, again. you note that you’re fond of the sound. ”isn’t that because he likes you, though? he just doesn’t know how to show it. it’s like pulling pigtails.”

”don’t even joke about that,” you scoff, shooting him a scowl. “and that wouldn’t make it any better, even if it was true.”

a fond smile. ”yeah, you’re right.” he opts to dial down on the teasing, shifting into a more sincere tone. ”you do seem more friendly now, though. before it felt like you really hated his guts.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. brows furrowing, as you mull on what to answer with. unsure how you really feel. it’s not like you’re suddenly super close, or anything — but you have gotten friendlier. just by a smidge, but still. you’ve gotten better at putting up with him and his antics, at finding comfort in how open he can be.

after a tiny pause, you speak up. 

”… i still don’t really understand him.” you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip, trapping it between your teeth. “but i think i might be starting to.” 

you’re a little embarrassed over the words that fall from your lips, barely above a whisper. 

”… he’s not the worst.”

geto smiles, but you don’t see it — gaze still lingering on the droplets that bounce off the pavement. ”i’m glad,” he hums, earnest. ”that guy needs more friends.”

something about his tone of voice urges you to look at him. that smile of his is bright, gleaming in the rain, in the midst of the flowers all around you. a little teasing, a little boyish, but somehow very sincere. you didn’t think you’d get to see it up close.

and you can’t help but chuckle. the raven-haired boy glances over at you, confusion in his eyes.

noticing it, you breathe out a quiet chuckle. ”sorry, it’s just —” a teasing grin smooths over your lips. ”you guys bicker a lot, and you act like he annoys you… but you really care for him, don’t you?”

this time, geto almost stops in his tracks. his eyes widen, slightly, and you’re not sure why he seems surprised — when he always sounds so fond saying satoru’s name, talking about him like they understand each other fully. maybe he didn’t notice it until now. 

a moment passes, before he collects himself, clearing his throat and averting his gaze. awfully good at keeping his composure. 

(though he fails to fully conceal the flustered look on his face.)

”i wouldn’t go that far,” he mumbles, but it only makes you chuckle again. his lips curl up slightly, at the sound; despite his embarrassment. ”someone’s gotta look out for that idiot.”

”right. of course.”

geto gives you a displeased little look. you bite back a laugh. feeling at ease, by his side — you get the sense that you can trust him, that you could tell him absolutely anything, and he still wouldn't use it against you. it’s a relief.

standing there, under geto’s umbrella, in the shadow of summer, rain obscuring the world — you reach a definitive conclusion.

you want to get to know him. want to see inside his heart, hear more of his thoughts. if you could only step over that gap between you, wriggle your way into his world — 

you think you’d be happy.

so, as you walk side by side, narrowly avoiding puddles and breathing in the humid summer air, you try to coax them out of him. little thoughts, bits and pieces of the suguru geto you yearn to meet.

(unbeknownst to you, he’s doing the same.)

you continue to talk. about miniscule things, meaningless things, a comfortable sensation of trust simmering in the air between you. and before you know it, you’ve stepped onto the school grounds, stopping right in front of the dormitory.

”here we are,” geto hums, folding the umbrella and tucking it between his arm and torso. you turn to look him in the eye, taking an absent step away.

”thanks, geto,” you can’t help but smile. ”for letting me walk with you.”

”don’t mention it.” he brushes you off with ease, quick to drag the door open; waiting for you to step inside before following suit. always so accommodating. 

for a second, he hesitates. a glimmer of uncertainty, in his eyes, that you miss — stretching out your tired limbs with a shallow groan, enjoying the warm and dry air on your skin. 

finally, geto takes the leap.

when he parts his lips, his voice comes out soothing. natural and breathy, floral patterns blooming on his tongue; as silky as jasmine petals. ”you can call me suguru, you know.” he lets the silence linger, for a moment. ”if you want to.”

you turn to look at him, eyes widening, at the sudden offer, and he can’t get a good read on the emotion reflected in them. you seem caught off guard, but he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing.

after a moment or two, you fumble for a response. 

”oh. um — okay? i will, then.” you shake your head, as if brushing off the hesitance you feel, mustering the courage to imitate his offer. ”in that case, you can call me by my first name, too.” 

a brief pause. 

”… if you want to.”

geto smiles. it’s laced with relief, hard to notice, impossible to miss. instead of answering with an affirmation, he takes a more teasing approach — unable to resist the temptation.

so he says your name. your first name, dragging the syllables out on his tongue, as if tasting it. trying to get used to the way the letters bend as they come out of his mouth. despite the teasing lilt it carries, the sound is oddly earnest; he pronounces it clearly, like he’s trying to call you to his side. you almost feel compelled to take a step towards him. 

geto looks you in the eye, as he calls you by your given name, for the very first time — and you can’t help but grow flustered.

”… suguru,” you echo, for whatever reason. you think your brain may be slightly fried. but it feels right, to say it. suguru. 

(what a pretty name.)

suguru smiles at you. you think it’s just a little wider than usual, a little more sincere. almost giddy, if you squint. in the open air, the intimate atmosphere simmers.

finally, you clear your throat, glancing in the direction of your dorm room. a silent que for him to follow.

and he does. leaving the umbrella by the hall, before walking you to your door. his steady, soothing presence sticking to your skin. you’re just about to place your fingers on the doorknob, when a pang of realization hits you — stopping you in your tracks.

”oh — right!”

swiftly, you turn on your heel, facing suguru again. he gazes down at you, bemusement in his eyes. watching as you rummage through the plastic bag hanging off your arm. finally, you find what you were looking for; holding it out towards him. 

”here,” you give him a warm smile. ”as thanks.”

suguru accepts it, compliantly, allowing you to slip a pack of gum into his palm. he recognizes the brand, one he favours over others. it helps him, on days he can’t find his appetite. 

did you see him chewing it at some point, he wonders? when, though? 

maybe you’re always paying attention to the people around you. the way they like their coffee, their favoured flavour of gum. it may be a small kindness, an absentminded one, but suguru thinks that makes it all the more meaningful. a kindness that seeps out of you, that draws him in. 

he wants to know more, about you. he really does.

but for now, this is enough. a walk back to your dorm, your shared home, talking and growing closer than before. 

it’s a small step, but in the right direction. 

the pack of gum stirs a mellow, tender feeling in his chest. all he can do is give you a smile, and a thank you that you’re quick to brush off. then you say your goodbyes, and you close the door behind you — flopping down on your bed with a muffled squeal. a giddy kind of excitement swimming in your veins. because finally, finally, you feel like the gap between you has been dented.

you know what his real laugh sounds like. that the tips of his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed. you know that he used to wear glasses, that you’re a little more similar than either of you could have assumed.

you know that you’re fond of him. fond of a boy with black hair, who smells of summer and rain and chewing gum. fond of a boy you’ve only scratched the surface of.

on the other side of the door, suguru walks back to his room. with a pep in his step, one that satoru notices — because of course he does — appearing from around the corner with a shit-eating grin.

“oh? what were you doing over there, suguru?”

suguru ignores him. popping a piece of the gum you gave him into his mouth, a flavour of apricot melting on his tongue — he sinks his teeth into it, slowly, feeling his lips curl up into a smile.