bella

He proposed to you the day he got back from his last mission. Maybe he should make it a tradition and marry you the day he returned this time. 

Skip the whole big wedding he talked you into the past few months in favor of a courthouse ceremony. Maybe drag Suguru back after the landing to be the witness. 

You made a face, nose scrunching up and lips parting like there was something you wanted to say, but you stopped yourself. 

“This is my last mission,” he reminded you, a weak attempt at reassurance as his thick cock rubbed against your clit. Your breath hitched, getting caught in your throat as he dragged it over the sensitive bud. 

“You said that about the last one,” you reminded him, and he didn’t have an argument to counter it. 

“Well, I mean it this time,” he muttered softly. He wasn’t particularly good at being soothing. Spectacularly bad, sometimes, actually. But you still stayed. 

Still smiled at him when he sucked at being what you needed. 

The moon hung heavy outside the window, a thick crack running across the glass pane as the night sky filtered through it and bathed the room in soft light. The apartment you shared wasn’t much, pretty shitty honestly, but it was just a stepping stone. A way to save money for when you’d really need it. 

Soon, you’d have the best. 

“Besides, I can’t leave again once you start having my babies,” he teased, moving a hand down to your stomach, feeling your soft skin. Dreaming of a future where you’d be waddling around his kitchen pregnant, trying to decide if he’d prefer a boy or a girl – only to land on wanting both. 

“So you’ll be here for them and not for me?” You huffed. 

“I just want to make sure I make a good life for all of you,” he replied, struggling to sound confident when you were looking at him with a faint hint of hurt shining in your eyes. 

You wanted to believe him. 

“Uh-huh,” you exhaled. 

He supposed he’d just have to remind you another way that you had his heart. That even if he left the planet for a few months, he’d always have to return back to you. 

His home. 

Your thighs opened up for him, letting him shut up all those awful thoughts with a kiss as he pushed the first few inches inside your pretty pussy. Felt you sucking him in, losing himself in your warmth as he pushed past that first ring of resistance. Filling you up until you were stuffed full, your head tilting back, lips parting in his favorite moan — his name falling from them in broken little gasps.

“Satoru,” you whined, wiggling under his weight as he leaned down to start trailing kisses across your jaw. Down the delicate skin of your throat, sucking greedily just to see what other sounds he could draw from you. 

“Mhm, sweetheart?” He hummed, pausing to drag his tongue over all the sore spots he’d left, tempted to sink his teeth back over them, to leave little bruises just so you’d have to keep thinking about him even when he was planets away.

“I don’t want you to go,” you huffed, forcing the words out between little whimpers, your body shivering as his cock slowly thrusted in and out, deliberately taking his time to stretch you out. He hesitated mid-pump, lips still pressed just above your collarbone as he tried to come up with something that would make it better.

“I don’t want to either,” Gojo softly admitted, kissing you again as if it would cure the ache in his heart or the one in yours. 

There was a moment of silence, seconds slipping by with tension that wouldn’t dissolve, and he wasn’t sure if he should keep thrusting or pull out.

But then your hips shifted, and his cock twitched, and he was already readjusting, palms moving to push your soft thighs against your chest with his cock still keeping you plugged up. 

And really, you couldn’t blame him for how pretty you looked in a mating press. 

Fucking you faster, the wooden bed frame creaking and bumping into the wall with every rough thrust, each harsh snap of his hips against your skin as he plunged his cock in and out, in and out.

Watching your face screw up in pleasure, lashes fluttering and nails scrambling for purchase in the sheets as his thumbs dug into your thighs. Holding onto you, keeping you firmly pinned between him and the bed, like he could imprint every ridge and vein inside you, supposing he’d just have to be satisfied with leaving the shape of both of you on the mattress. 

“I love you so goddamn much,” he murmured, chest constricting, heart racing as the pressure built and mounted in the pit of his stomach. Some invisible thread being pulled tighter, or maybe it was just himself, wrapped around your finger without you even realizing it. 

Ready to break just thinking about not getting to hear your voice every day, not getting to touch your skin, like he wasn’t still buried inside you.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice quivering as you looked up at him with glossy eyes. 

He kissed you hard, teeth nearly bumping into each other as his tongue slipped past your lips. Tracing over your canines, tasting the hint of toothpaste on your tongue. The remnants of the candy-flavored lip gloss you’d been wearing earlier too. 

You were returning his fervor, squeezing down on his cock like you were trying to suck him dry like he wasn’t already struggling not to cum. 

He had to hurry to shift his hand, fingers rushing to find your clit, rubbing rough circles over it just to swallow every cute moan of yours that tried to escape. Cock twitching and aching for relief that he refused to give it, keeping an iron grip on his restraint as he waited for that familiar tremble, for you to really clamp down on him as shudders wracked through your body. 

Until you were crying his name in his mouth, whimpers muffled as he soothed you through your climax, rolling that sensitive bud between his thick fingers, only breaking the kiss to purr in your ears that it was all going to be okay. 

“That’s it, baby. Just cum for me, okay? It’s gonna be fine,” he promised, his voice cracking on the final word as he came with you. Finishing with warm spurts of cum filling you up, each thrust pumping more into you as he groaned your name, head collapsing into the crook of your collarbone. 

Sweat making your skin stick to his, your breathing mixing together as you both came back down to earth from your high. 

“Fuck,” you murmured, trying to shift underneath him, roll out from his heavy body. 

But he refused to budge, burying his face deeper into your neck just to smell your soap and shampoo, nuzzling his nose against your neck. 

He didn’t want to let go. 

And for a second, part of him considered cancelling. Backing out of the mission, coming up with an excuse or calling out sick. They had back up astronauts. 

They had a few people, perhaps not as qualified as him, but still acceptable, on standby that could take his spot. 

He might get fired. Shoved back to some bottom-tier desk position. 

But he’d get to stay with you. 

Would get to spend the next six months sleeping like this instead of alone in a spaceship compartment. 

“Satoru,” you softly said his name, shifting as he finally released your thighs, letting you lay them back down more comfortably – but still kept you caged in. 

“Can’t I just lay here for a while longer?” He groaned, jaw tightening at the idea that this was the last night he’d get this. You.

Cock still twitching as the last of his cum leaked out, some of it starting to spill down your thighs as he refused to take it out. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching a spot behind his ears, sifting through the silky strands with a long sigh. “Sure.” 

That was just who you were. 

What you’d do. 

You gave him what he wanted. 

Even when you didn’t like what he asked for. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be sorry,” you replied gently. “Just be sure you’re coming home.” 

“The stars can’t keep me from you,” he promised, moving to leave another kiss on the tip of your nose as you rolled your eyes at him. 

But you giggled, and that was good enough.

“Let’s get married when I get back,” he suggested. 

“We already-” 

“Like, the same day, sweetheart,” he insisted, lips curling up in a smile as he snagged your left hand, bringing it to his lips so he could press a kiss to your engagement ring. The big diamond glittering in the moonlight, accented with small gemstones that same shade as his eyes set in a white-gold band. One you picked out with him once upon a time. 

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, shaking your head like you weren’t grinning at the idea too. “Didn’t you want, like, the whole huge wedding?” 

“I just want you.” 

Gojo could make it six months if it meant you’d be waiting there for him when he got back.  

He just didn’t think everything would go to fucking shit in sixteen weeks.

Clinging to the same dream of you, the same memory his brain had chosen for comfort as he opened his eyes for another difficult day in a long line of them. 

Waking up to a window that only overlooked the cold, dark expanse of space instead of the familiar city. Missing your warmth in bed – trading it for a sleeping bag and a stiff compartment that they somehow still hadn’t figured out a better alternative for despite how advanced their rocketships had become. 

Sure, they could figure out how to simulate gravity inside the living areas now. But no, getting a good night’s rest was still impossible. 

They were only supposed to be running a supply drop off. Sending equipment to a planet a few other astronauts were previously sent to, one they’d recently started establishing a settlement on. Shoko was planning on staying behind there to be their medic – but he was supposed to return with Suguru.

It wasn’t the only habitable planet that had been discovered. There were a few, all being explored, data being collected and catalogued by various astronauts like themselves, sent back periodically and retrieved by relief missions like the one they were on. 

All just a galaxy away. 

It meant going through a wormhole to get to them, but according to all the calculations and the previous voyages, it was safe. 

Risky, sure, but it’d been done before. 

And to be fair, getting through it hadn’t been the problem. 

The problem was they were just outside the orbit of the wrong fucking planet. 

Whether one of them had bumped into the navigation system, inputted the wrong thing at the wrong time, or maybe some internal error was to blame, it didn’t matter. 

No, a more pressing issue had presented itself. 

A distress signal was being sent up. 

Someone was below – and begging to be rescued. 

“I have a bad feeling about it,” Suguru murmured, scowling at the screen as if he could make the message go away just by glaring at it. 

“You always have a bad feeling,” Shoko hummed, dark circles under his eyes as she scanned the data on her screen. 

“I think we should just continue to the correct planet. It’ll be a waste of fuel and time,” Suguru scoffed, ignoring her as his fingers flew across the keyboard, inputting either calculations or coordinates.

Satoru reclined back in his seat, fiddling with a pencil as his friend glanced up at him like he was looking for support here.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one who wants to save people?” He asked, cocking his head to the side just to get a scoff. He’d known Suguru most of his life. Went to school together, graduated from the same program just to end up colleagues too. Between both of them, Suguru was always the altruistic one. The guy who thought of everyone else before himself – even if he was looking down at them from his moral high ground half the time. 

“Not if it means putting our mission at risk,” he argued, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Or us.”

“The last reported conditions there seem fine,” Shoko shrugged as she directed their attention back to what little data had been collected so far. 

Most of the planet was made of water, a massive sea dotted with a handful of islands, some mountain ranges that rivaled the highest peaks back on Earth. Two fellow astronauts were supposed to have been there for the last nine months. 

“Yeah, that’s why they’re sending a distress signal,” Suguru sarcastically grimaced. 

“You really want to just leave them?” Gojo asked, not sure how exactly to feel about it himself. Not wanting to totally throw away Suguru’s hesitation – but reluctant to just leave another astronaut stranded. 

“There are other people counting on us,” Suguru insisted, and Satoru knew he was right. Knew that you were counting on him to come back in one piece. “We can just send a message back to Earth and let them decide.”

Suguru knew as well as he did that doing that would most likely mean death to whoever was sending the distress signal.

It would probably be months before they sent another ship up.

And given that they didn’t have the data to know how fast or slow time passed below. No way to know when the signal they were receiving had started.

There was a heavy pause, all three of them weighing whether or not to take the gamble — and imagining what it’d feel like to be the one stuck on the planet praying for someone to come save them.

“I think we should check it out,” Satoru eventually spoke up, although he wasn’t exactly excited about it. 

He just wasn’t sure he could stomach the alternative. If he could handle coming back home to you and telling you the truth.

Risk you leaving him like they were about to leave the stranded astronauts.

“The extra data they have would be useful,” Shoko pointed out, tilting her head appraisingly. “If we needed to, we could bring them back to the other settlement.” 

“Two minutes,” Suguru begrudgingly gave in, irritation pricking in his voice as he stood up, rubbing his temple. “We shouldn’t spend more than ten on the surface when we don’t know how much time we could lose. Get there, see what’s salvage, get the fuck out.” 

Whether it was data or people, they’d just take what they could and leave. 

There was a chance that the relative time on the planet was off. That even just an hour on the planet could be the equivalent to a year back on Earth. 

“Yeah, agreed,” Satoru waved him off, watching him walk off, probably to start preparations for landing. 

He told himself it was the right thing to do. 

That it was what you would expect from him. 

He stood up too, walking around to one of the communication terminals they set up – where they could send and receive messages. 

You’d sent a couple videos, unofficial ones, of course, something he arranged in advance when he agreed to join the mission – that he’d be able to contact you and you’d be able to do the same. They were short, just a few minutes of you updating him on life back on Earth. How you were doing, how wedding planning was going, murmuring that you missed him in a soft voice before leaning in to kiss the camera. 

But a new one was waiting for him as he popped his headphones in to listen, leg bouncing nervously as it loaded, automatically smiling when your face popped up. 

“Hi, Satoru,” you greeted, but then you awkwardly looked down, fiddling with your fingers out of frame like you were shy all of a sudden. Biting your bottom lip, the skin there already broken like you’d been busy chewing it. 

He wanted to touch the screen. 

Caress your cheek and ask you what was wrong. 

“I, um, was gonna wait until you came back. But, uh, I don’t think I can keep it a secret that long,” you breathed, eyes glancing up at the camera like you were imagining him on the other side of it. 

And then you were picking something up, holding it out in front of you as the camera refocused and- 

Holy shit. 

“Surprise,” you excitedly called out from behind the tiny onesie in your hand. “You’re going to be a father.” 

A baby. 

He was going to be a father.

His brain stopped working. Shock freezing him in place as you peeked out from behind the onesie like you could see his reaction. Pride glimmered in your eyes as you grinned, his entire world sitting in front of him a galaxy away. His future wife and child just waiting for him to return.

“I wanted it to be a surprise, but it’s been so hard holding it in,” you continued, and he craved you even more than he had in the past few months combined. Dying to pick you up and press kiss after kiss to your lips, your cheeks, your stomach.

Aching to wrap his arms around you and start talking about baby names and nurseries, to take you out shopping for baby furniture and be there for your appointments. 

“There’s something else,” you said, reluctance creeping in. Glancing down at your lap again before pulling up a second onesie. 

No. You surely didn’t mean…? 

“I’m having twins,” you announced, a little awkward like you started second guessing how he’d take it. “Are you surprised?” 

It didn’t take his brain long to calculate the fucking odds of that, but his mind had a hard time accepting it, discomfort coiling in and mixing with the exhilaration in his stomach at the idea of you back in bed, carrying his babies, while he was up in fucking space. 

Unable to be there for you. To rub the lotion on your stomach, to sing terrible impressions of lullabies to them, to drive you to the doctor and hold your hand throughout all of it. 

You didn’t seem too bothered, or maybe just too excited to show it, holding up the ultrasounds next, proudly showing him baby A and baby B, talking about how you should find out their genders in just a couple weeks. 

“You better be back before I have these two,” you murmured into the camera, fixing him in a serious stare, your eyes shining in the fading daylight drifting in through your window. “Don’t make me go to the hospital alone.” 

Never. 

He’d fucking be there. 

“I love you, Toru,” you spoke softer, hesitating over actually hitting the button to stop recording. “Please don’t do anything stupid.” 

He’d already done something stupid by saying yes to coming here, hadn’t he? 

Still, he plastered on his best smile, sitting awkwardly in front of his own camera, recording you a message back. Making you a million promises, telling you how proud he was of you, how thrilled he was to be a dad. Selling you dreams of a life he was desperately trying to buy for your future family of four. 

“We’re, uh, about to go down to a planet to check out a distress signal, but, it’ll be fine, baby,” he informed you, hearing how stiff the words came out as he forced his palm to press down on his thigh to stop his leg from bouncing. “It’ll just be a quick pitstop before the supply drop, promise.” 

He paused, having to clear his throat, his tongue suddenly dry as he made himself look directly into the camera. 

“I’ll come back for you.” 

Gojo didn’t want to admit Suguru might be right when he had to sit with the heavy feeling in his stomach after he shut the camera off and sent the message back – knowing it would probably be a couple days before you saw it.

But it would be fine, wouldn’t it?

In a year, he’d be waking up in bed with you, laughing about how worried he’d been while you each held one of your babies. This would just be a memory. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Staring at the screen long after it shut off, replaying your voice in his head, itching to really hear it, to feel it on his skin, to touch you instead of just clinging to a digital copy of you.

“You ready?” Suguru’s voice called out to him, and he snapped out of his daze. 

Found his mouth opening, about to say no.

Tell him he changed his mind. Say he was wrong and that they should just save their fuel. 

But if you knew, if they knew, that he’d left someone to die just to come home to them sooner, would they look at him the same way? 

Would he be able to look his children in the eyes? 

He swallowed hard as he glanced towards the doorframe Suguru was standing in, slowly nodding instead of saying what he really wanted to. “Yeah.” 

Gojo wanted to believe that between their three-person crew, they’d be able to handle it. 

He just hadn’t realized that only two of them would make it back to the ship. 

𖥔 ݁ ˖

“You should move on.”

It didn’t matter how many people said it. How many times your therapist pleaded with you to put the past behind you.

You couldn’t let go of him.

Six months turned into six years without Satoru.

The one thing you were terrified of had come true.

You lost him.

Didn’t even have the fucking confirmation of his death. Just a gravestone with an empty casket, a plot picked out for you next to it — even if you’d never get to be buried by him. 

Wasn’t that the funny thing about taking risks? 

You always know what could happen. You just never think it will happen to you. 

It’s always someone else. 

Until it’s not. 

Until you’re the one waiting for a phone call you’ll never get or a knock on the door that will never come. 

“It’s not exactly like men are lining up to date me,” you muttered into the phone, tucking it between your ear and shoulder as you frowned at your reflection in the mirror, reaching up to fix a stray hair just for your still-shiny engagement ring to shimmer in the sunlight. Swallowing the lump in your throat before you turned away, nearly tripping on a toy. “With the twins-” 

“Guys like MILFs,” your friend teased in your ear, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you bent over to pick up the stuffed bunny and toss it in an overflowing toy basket. 

You doubted they’d like one still in love with their babies’ father. 

Still holding out hope he’d show up with that stupid smile and wrap you in a crushing hug. 

Even if the rest of the world thought he was dead. 

When the government had declared his ship missing and him deceased. Cut you a check for it even though you weren’t technically Satoru’s spouse yet since you had his babies. A little boy that could be his clone and a girl that looked a little too much like you.  

Their check had been enough to get you out of your crummy apartment, to move the three of you in a small house in a quiet neighborhood. 

Suguru’s mother had ended up moving next door, offering to babysit and watch them during the day so you didn’t have to send them to daycare. Helping you raise your children while her child was still out there in space somewhere. 

She didn’t talk about Suguru with you. And you never spoke of Satoru. 

But you knew she understood anyway. Coped with it the same way you did. Skirting around their existence like it would lessen the hurt. 

“I know a guy who-” Your friend started, and your stomach lurched at the thought of being set up with someone who couldn’t come close to the man you were supposed to marry. 

“Look, I’ve, uh, gotta go get the kids. Their teacher wanted to discuss Apollo’s behavior. I guess he bit someone,” you muttered, heels clicking as you slung your purse over your shoulder and snagged your keys. 

She was disappointed, mumbling a goodbye that you tuned out, hitting end and dropping your phone in your bag with a sigh. 

You wondered what Satoru would’ve thought of it. 

If he would’ve laughed at his son picking fights at school or if there was a stern side to him buried somewhere beneath his goofy grins and cheesy jokes. 

You tried to pick out names he’d like. Even if sometimes it stung a little to think about. 

Apollo and Artemis. 

After the space missions. He’d think it was cute. Probably dress them up like little astronauts and kiss their foreheads, promising that he loved them way more than just to the moon and back. Paint stars on their ceiling and hang planets up on strings in their nursery. 

To be fair, you had done it in his place. 

Worn one of his old t-shirts as you bit your lip and bent over your swollen belly to get all the corners, carefully standing on a ladder to hang everything on the ceiling, standing in a nursery full of furniture you built yourself a month after his return date came and went. 

The last thing you heard from him was a video message where he promised he’d come back. If you shut your eyes, you could still see that look on his face, the flicker of nervousness that flashed across it as his mouth curled down into a frown before he admitted that they were about to go check out a distress call. 

And then nothing. 

NASA never told you if they had any additional information on it. But the conclusion they came to was obvious. 

Their mission was a failure. And your husband was forever missing. 

Somewhere you’d never be able to reach. 

You snapped on the twins' first birthday. You hadn’t even managed to bring yourself to throw them a party when Satoru wasn’t there to take the photos, to pick them up and blow out the candles for them. 

Carrying them next door to Suguru’s mom’s place, asking for her to watch them for a few hours just to come back home and rip down every stupid space-themed piece of decor you’d once painstakingly picked out. Throwing them all in a big, black trash bag before running out to the store to grab tarps and more paint. 

You didn’t stop until the entire room was drenched in shades of blue and green, alien toys traded in for sea animals.

At least the ocean was on Earth. 

It wasn’t like they were old enough to understand. 

But you couldn’t fucking stand the idea of losing them too. 

You had kept both their convertible cribs in your room since the day you brought them home from the hospital, unable to sleep without them in the same room. The crippling fear that you’d some intruder would sneak in and snatch them if you weren’t right there to stop it didn’t actually go away until they were big enough to toddle and talk. 

Now they were old enough to be in school, no longer babies, no longer toddlers, big enough to ramble on about what they learned every day, bicker over their toys and pick them back up before they went to bed. 

And Satoru had missed all of it. 

Every first they experienced tainted by the never-ending reminder that he wasn’t fucking here to see a single one. 

And like an idiot, you just kept recording message after message, setting up a camera and trying not to cry as you recorded yourself talking about the twins, showing them off to someone who should’ve been by your side every step of the way. You still had a few contacts with his old colleague, one who promised he’d send them all up anyway. 

Just in case Satoru was still out there in space. Still trying to come home to you.  

There wasn’t a single day that passed yet where you didn’t think about it. 

Him. 

But it appeared your attempts to keep him alive, to teach your kids about their dad, weren’t going so well when you replayed the voicemail you’d been left an hour earlier requesting you come in for a meeting after school was over when you picked up the kids. 

The soft voice on the other end apologetically explaining that Apollo had gotten in an argument with another kid to defend his sister, that no action was being taken, but that he’d still like to speak with you in person over it. 

You stared at the brick building of the elementary school, readjusting your purse as you swiped away another message from your friend sending you contact details of a man you certainly were not going to contact, steeling yourself for an uncomfortable conversation as you walked through the door and went into the office to get a visitor’s pass before you started navigating through the halls to look for the twins’ class. 

Suguru’s mom handled most of the pick ups for you, kept them at her place until you got back home from work in the evenings. 

Your boss had been annoyed that you’d taken off early, but you had to put them first. You were the only parent they had. 

You heard Artemis first. Her soft giggle twinkling as your steps picked up, her brother’s grumpy voice scolding her as you stopped just outside an open classroom door, pausing as you looked inside and saw sitting cross-legged on the floor with another boy who looked a couple years older, a bunch of toys dumped out between them on a carpet with the alphabet on it. 

“Are you their sister? I thought their mom-” A low voice spoke up, your head snapping over to see a dark-haired man stepping out from behind a desk. Warm brown eyes scanning your face as you stiffly shook your head.   

“I’m their mom,” you interrupted him, swallowing hard as you pushed your sunglasses back up in your hair before holding your hand out to shake. 

His hand was surprisingly soft when he took it, gently shaking it a few seconds too long before awkwardly letting go. 

“I’m Choso, their teacher,” he said, and you forced a small smile.

“I, uh, know,” you muttered, averting your stare back to where they were playing. 

“Yuji’s my little brother,” he added, pointing out the boy playing with yours, plucking out a toy from the pile and handing it over. 

You wondered if it would be awful to just ask him to go ahead and skip all the polite niceties, that you didn’t need them. 

“Sorry for making assumptions,” he awkwardly apologized, his dark eyes dragging over you again. “You just looked like you’re around my age, and I guess I forget sometimes that it’s normal for us to have kids of our own now.”

You blinked at him, trying to decide what to make of his slightly nervous rambling just for his mouth to open again.

“I wasn’t trying to comment on your appearance or anything, I mean, you’re beautiful-” His lips abruptly shut, cheek flushing pink in a painfully familiar way.

Your chest hurt.

Ached at the thought that Satoru was no longer the last person to call you beautiful.

“Um, thanks,” you murmured, looking at your outfit a little self-consciously. Wondering if he was just saying that to make you feel better or if he really meant it. You didn’t think you looked terrible. But without Satoru around, you’d sorta forgotten what it felt like to look in the mirror and see something pretty when you were struggling to survive most days. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, glancing down to the ring on your finger. Your throat started to close, palms getting clammy as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t realize you were married.” 

“I’m not,” you answered, a little too quickly as you folded your arms across your chest. Putting your left hand underneath your other arm as if it would make you stop thinking about it. Him. 

“Oh, um-” 

“I was engaged to the twins’ dad,” you explained, watching them giggle and pretend to eat the plastic food with their new pink-haired friend. “But, uh, he passed before they were born.” 

People usually asked too many questions if you told them the whole story. 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he apologized, face falling the way everyone else’s always did. Regret etched into the soft lines of his face, nose scrunching up as the tattoo across his nose crinkled. “I had no-”

“It’s fine,” you lied, waving it off like Satoru didn’t still cast shadows across your thoughts. “So, um, what happened with Apollo? Is he in trouble?”

“No, no, one of the other kids tried to take a toy from Artemis, and he stepped in to stop it. I actually wanted to speak to you about him having a hard time making friends outside of her,” Choso spoke softly, obviously trying hard to pick his words carefully. “I was thinking of recommending they get put in different classes next year to help them socialize.” 

You bit the inside of your cheek.

Torn between immediately shutting the idea down and trying to argue against it before second guessing whether or not your parenting was actually just fostering codependence. 

Satoru would know what to do.

But he wasn’t here.

And all the decisions were yours to make.

Artemis was the outgoing one, inherited her father’s personality even if she pretty much got your face. Bright and brilliant, easy charisma that shined even at her small size. Apollo was reserved. Serious.

Scowling if he wasn’t with his sister, grumbling at the world like he already realized how it screwed them over.

“They’re just five,” you muttered, glancing over at where they were still distracted with his brother.

“Well, I guess we can see if there are any changes throughout the rest of the school year. I, uh, coach a boys soccer team on the weekends. He’s welcome to join, if you’re interested,” he said, running his fingers through the ends of his hair. 

You guessed if it meant your twins wouldn’t be split up in school, you’d sit on the sidelines to watch little kids try and fail to kick a ball across a field. 

Not that he was that happy about it when you told him he’d have to spend his Saturday morning in a soccer uniform with kids he barely spoke to before instead of playing with his toys at home. 

Choso grinned when you first showed up, one of those crooked ones that gave away his surprise when he saw you setting up fold-out chairs for you and Artemis. Even jogging over to tell you he was happy you came, squatting down to get on Apollo’s level to ask him if he knew how to play. 

He didn’t.

To be fair, after watching a single game, it was clear none of the other kids did either. 

Still, you left it with a schedule of practices and games stuffed in your purse, a couple of them circled and marked for your days to bring snacks and juice boxes for the team.

You told yourself that you were being an active parent. 

Showing up to every single school event. Refusing to miss a single soccer game even when Apollo spent half of it plucking weeds from the field to give to you afterwards. 

Taking him to play dates with his new soccer friends before taking Artemis to sleepover with her school friends, juggling their new social lives with your own work. 

And somewhere along the way, you supposed you’d made a new friend in their teacher too.

He went out of his way to talk to you at every game, greeting you at their school stuff with a shy smile and considerate questions while he updated you on how they were doing. 

The kids loved him, coming home chattering about what he planned and taught them during the day, complaining whenever he was out sick and they got stuck with a substitute. 

Wasn’t it normal to like someone if they made your children happy? 

Smile back when they spoke to you? 

Find your thoughts lingering a little on their dark-haired teacher when your son excitedly exclaimed that Choso promised to be his soccer coach next year too, your stupid heart stalling for a second when Artemis casually dropped that he helped her make a mother’s day card for you as she stuck it to the fridge with a magnet. 

You definitely didn’t pick them up from school yourself more often, swearing to Suguru’s mother that you were just trying to spend more time with them. 

But eventually, the school year wrapped up. 

You couldn’t really comprehend why some sliver of you was disappointed by that. 

Still, you suspected that it wasn’t just because Satoru wasn’t here to see it. 

A strange flutter in your stomach stirring watching Choso pass out printed graduation certificates to the class, plastering on a bright smile as Artemis proudly bounded over to show you hers. Toothily grinning as you sat and clapped for her in a cramped chair, a paper plate with a tiny slice of pizza in front of you as the other parents tried wrangling their own kids. 

Apollo was half-sitting on your lap, sneakily stealing your pizza after he polished off his own plate, enjoying their classroom party just to start bickering over which mini cupcakes they each wanted, eyeing the boxes Choso hadn’t given out. “Are you excited for next year?” You asked, barely able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at their arguing. 

“No,” Artemis smiled immediately flipped into a frown as she flopped in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. “We’ll have to get a new teacher.” 

“Don’t be a baby,” Apollo huffed at her. 

“S’not fair, he’s still your coach,” she whined back, right in time for him to show up, holding out a plastic container with cupcakes to let them choose. 

They were quick to snatch them, thank yous muffled when they stuffed their mouths the next second, but to your surprise, he held out the box for you to pick too. 

“I, um, got enough for the parents too,” he awkwardly said, eyes hesitantly flicking up to meet yours as you chewed the inside of your cheek before accepting. 

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, selecting one with purple frosting as he smiled softly at you. 

It was nice of him. 

This was nice, actually. 

A classroom of sugar-fueled kids and hastily strung up party streamers wasn’t exactly where you pictured you’d be spending your afternoon a decade ago. Being a single mom had never been a part of your plans. 

But it wasn’t terrible. 

You loved your children. Loved being their mom. 

Maybe you could learn to love your life too. 

You stayed behind once the party wrapped up to help clean the classroom with a few of the other parents, stuffing greasy and frosting splattered plates into trash bags while the twins excitedly caught up with Yuji after his teacher dropped him off after the bell rang. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice startled you, your head snapping back to see Choso stiffly standing next to you, nervously raking his fingers through his hair. 

“Hi,” you breathed back, just as awkward. “The party was great. I think the twins will miss you next year.” 

You didn’t want to consider if you would. 

“They’re great kids. I know they’re gonna succeed some day,” he earnestly said, your mouth curling up as you nodded. 

You didn’t really mind if they succeeded or not. Wouldn’t hold them to the same standards their dad once held himself to. 

All you really wanted was for them to be happy. 

“Thanks, um, seriously,” you swallowed hard, throat constricting as you thought about how much Apollo had started to come out of his shell thanks to him. 

Choso’s intense stare swept over your face, scanning over your features like he was searching for something there.

His eyes were dark. 

Not blue. They didn’t shimmer, didn’t sparkle when the sun hit them. 

But they were deep. Warm. 

“I’m glad I got to meet you,” he started, speaking slowly like he wasn’t sure if he should even say it. “Getting to know you, um, it’s been great.” 

“Yeah, it has,” you agreed, actually meaning it too. 

He stepped a little closer, taking a deep breath as his gaze settled on your face. “You can like, slap me if I’m out of line here-”

“I’m not going to slap you,” you intercut, biting back a laugh as his brows knitted together seriously. 

“Would it be totally inappropriate to ask you on a date?” 

𖥔 ݁ ˖

Their mission was fucked. 

Suguru was dead. 

Body stuck on a planet of water and waves, left behind with the other astronauts that had died long before they even received their distress call. 

Swept under a fucking tsunami, unable to make it back on the ship on time in an attempt to save a stupid fucking data recorder. 

Now they had neither. 

The ship had been damaged in the process too, fuel wasted and plans derailed as they barely managed to get it off the planet before all three of them ended up as corpses. Water corrupting important systems as Gojo slammed his fists against the hard metal frame of a door, throwing off his helmet as Shoko said something his brain refused to process. 

Grabbing his arm to pull it back before he could fuck up his suit. Telling him to just take it off and cool down before he damned both of them too. 

Like his best friend wasn’t gone. 

He’d never get him back. 

No one would. 

Gojo just had to leave his body there for the tides to take. What the hell was he even going to say to his mom? How was he supposed to tell her that her son wasn’t coming home? 

He barely managed to get his suit off, stripping down and throwing it on the ground without giving a shit about proper protocol, storming off to his private compartment to stop himself from losing it in front of the only other person up here now. Shoko said something about getting everything back on course, but he wasn’t listening as he turned his back from her.

God, he felt like he was going to fucking hurl. 

The edges of his vision kept blurring, going in-and-out of darkness as he forced himself to change clothes, sitting hunched over the edge of his bed and burying his face in his hands, replaying the look on Suguru’s face when he realized he wasn’t going to make it. 

Rewinding and searching for some other way to change the past as he screwed his eyes shut. 

But he couldn’t save him then and there was no way to save him now. 

He wished you were here. 

Wished you’d wrap your arms around him and run your fingers through his hair and promise him that it would still be okay. That Suguru wouldn’t blame him. 

That his best friend was somewhere better. 

Even if everything scientific in his body swore that there was no better place waiting for him. 

Gojo pushed himself back up to his feet, jaw locked tight as he walked back over to the one piece of you he still had access too, tapping away at the controls to see if you sent any videos while he was out there making the worse fucking mistake of his life. 

Foot impatiently tapping against the floor as he reclined his head back against the floor, wishing that he’d never even come on this mission in the first place – if he hadn’t, Suguru wouldn’t have even answered the distress call, would he? 

He’d still be alive, and Gojo would be with-

The computer let out a beep, interrupting his thoughts as the screen came to life, loading everything up as he sighed with relief. 

Seeing your smile, hearing your soft words might not heal him, but it was the only thing he could think of to help the raw wound of loss ripping through his chest. 

Until the automated computer voice made an announcement right as he popped his headphones in.   

Loading messages from the past eleven years. 

No. No no no no no.

It was wrong.

It had to be fucking wrong. 

The computer had to be fried. Some water must have somehow gotten in it and fucked with the wiring and-

Before he could even hit a single button, try to troubleshoot, there you were in front of him, your hand on your swollen stomach, scowling in the camera as you asked where the hell he was. Fear creeping in your pretty voice that no one had heard anything from any of them – reminding him that he promised to come back. 

He did. He would. 

The small lump in his throat getting bigger and bigger as the video auto-played into the next one, where you were obviously about to pop, filming in a space-themed nursery, your anger twisted into worry, telling him that you didn’t want to do this alone. 

Begging him to not make you. 

Gojo froze. 

Shoulders stiff as he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, stunned as his own brain short-circuited, the guilt swimming in his stomach threatening to drown him as you ended the message. 

Part of him wanted to hit stop. 

Like if he paused it now, he would be able to freeze time and somehow make it back to Earth in time to not miss any more of it. 

But his fingers weren’t fast enough. 

And the next frame came with the audio of a baby crying. 

Two babies. One swaddled in blue and the other in pink. Their names on knitted hats he already knew Suguru’s mom must’ve made, a strangled sob escaping him before he even realized he was crying. 

The twins. His twins. 

Sleepily yawning and opening their eyes just a peek, enough for him to see his son had the misfortune of inheriting his looks while his daughter came out like a miniature you. Someone else was recording you in the hospital bed, but you were talking to the camera like it was him, face soft as you giggled that he would probably bawling harder than the babies when he realized he missed this. 

Suguru’s mom laughed behind the camera. 

He was. 

Tears falling freely as the videos just kept playing. One after another. 

His children were growing up without him. 

From tiny and fragile bundles to bumbling toddlers to fuck, full-sized little kids. 

In what? Fifty minutes? 

Five entire years of their life, condensed down to a handful of clips. The first steps he missed, the birthdays and holidays and father’s day he’d never get back. 

They didn’t even look at the camera half the time. Too busy playing and giggling and laughing while you did your best not to cry in front of them. They didn’t know him. 

Their father was barely more than a fucking video camera being pointed at them. 

And you, god, his pretty, perfect you. 

Still sending him these even when you had to think he was fucking dead. 

Dark circles under your eyes and a hollowness to your face that only got worse over the years. Exhaustion in your expressions as you spoke to him like you didn’t think he was listening. 

You mostly updated them on the kids' life. Skimmed over the details of a job you obviously didn’t like. Told him how Suguru’s mom had basically become their grandma. Sometimes Artemis would be on your lap, squinting at a book or playing with a toy while you talked. 

His girls a wormhole away. 

Gojo wanted to scream. Shout at the world to stop fucking spinning for a while so he could make it back to you. 

But five years turned into six, and six turned into seven, and he watched in horror as it started to set in that he was losing you too.

What if it was too late? 

What if you moved on? What if your life had no room left in it for him by the time he made it back to Earth? 

The twins were already in school and playing sports and clearly didn’t miss the man they’d never met. 

Would you stop missing him too? 

He didn’t know how many videos he watched. Guessing the time jump between each one based on how much the twins had grown in the background. 

You looked more mature now too. More put together, hair styled differently, no longer bare-faced when you turned the camera on, in a different room that obviously belonged to a house that wasn’t his home. 

Toys weren’t scattered around everywhere in the background anymore. But sometimes the twins would run through with one of their friends, some pink-haired kid that seemed to come over often judging by the way you barely blinked when they passed behind you. 

Gojo felt like a stranger. 

Some creep looking in the window of a happy family and thinking it should be his. 

“Mom,” Apollo whined, trying to tug on your sleeve as his shaggy white hair hung around his shoulders, attempting to drag you away while you were in mid-sentence. “Me and Cho made a cake. Come try it.” 

“Sure, honey,” you softly said, cringing a little before glancing back at the camera apologetically before signing off. 

Was Cho one of his friends? One of yours? 

He didn’t actually want an answer. 

But the next video seemed to clue him in on one anyway. 

You were wearing a shirt that was too big for you. The collar of it stretched out, your hair mused and down as you softly spoke, like you were trying not to wake someone up. 

It wasn’t Gojo’s shirt. 

An awful feeling settled in his bones. One that etched deeper with every little off detail he noticed. 

A pair of men’s shoes in the background. A watch left on your desk, barely in frame. The Cho the twins occasionally chattered about affectionately. 

Who apparently was taking them to soccer games and science museums like he should be doing right now if he heard them correctly.

Gojo didn’t want to believe that you were dating again. Even if he knew that it would be the normal thing to do. 

Completely reasonable for you to move on after not hearing a word from him in nearly a decade. 

But the idea of you loving another man, letting him into your life, letting him take his space-

He puked. 

Head between his knees as he got sick on the floor, throwing up a mixture of salt water he swallowed earlier and the freeze dried breakfast he had this morning. Funny, wasn’t it? He’d lost over ten years with you and his best friends in just a day.

An hour on that horrible planet had cost him a decade. 

Body wracking with shudders as he coughed and spit, wiping the back of his mouth just in time to look up at you while those pretty lips of yours pressed in a thin line. Sadness shining in your eyes, frustration and disappointment you rarely let show evident in your trembling frame. 

“It’s hard to keep hoping for you,” you admitted, reaching out to shut off the camera, and he desperately wanted to scream for you to not give up, to just fucking wait. 

But then the computer chimed in that there was one video left the second the screen went black after you ended it. 

His hand reached out, desperate to touch you, desperate to stop you, but your world was spinning faster than his was. 

And your face was back on screen, something inside him wilting and withering at the realization that another year had probably passed for you, maybe even two, more that he would never be able to get back. 

A few more faint lines were etched by your eyes, subtle creases left as a sign of all the time he missed with you. But you looked healthier. Happier. 

His beautiful girl sitting there and smiling at him instead of screaming like you should’ve been. Cursing his name for not coming home sooner, scolding him for being a piece of shit that should’ve stayed on Earth.  

“Hi, Satoru,” you spoke softly, fiddling with your hands. “Been a while since I’ve made one of these.” 

He was terrified to know how long.

“The twins are good. They’re gonna be ten next month,” you continued, not looking directly at the camera as you talked. “They’re both smart, like you. Apollo’s been more into soccer than school these days though.” 

He wanted to see him. See both of them. 

Hold them too, know his children outside of the information you would tell some distant relative, even if that was all he felt like right now. 

“Artemis wants to be a scientist when she grows up. She sits on the sidelines of his games with her nose buried in books,” you told him, a little smile reflexively curling up on your lips just from talking about them. “I wish you could see them. Wish you were here.” 

His chest hurt. 

Gojo didn’t know he stopped breathing until his body forced him to suck in a breath, lungs screaming for air as he stared at the woman he was supposed to marry. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. 

The mission should’ve been routine. Simple. 

Suguru should be setting up the navigation. He should be begrudgingly agreeing to being his best man and coming to the courthouse to witness the rushed ceremony. 

“Sometimes,” you started, swallowing hard as your gorgeous eyes welled up with tears that threatened to spill out. “I dream of you. Us. Back in our old apartment in the creaky bed and the broken window. I wake up thinking I’m still there.” 

The hard lump lodged in his throat was threatening to choke him entirely, the taste of bile still on his tongue as his nails digging crescent moons into his palms as he watched your mouth quiver. 

“The government declared you dead a few years ago. One of your old colleagues came by one day, said that no one really knew for sure what happened, just that you missed the supply drop. Used a bunch of big words like I was too stupid to understand that the bottom line was that you weren’t coming home. Tried to make me feel better about it too,” you bitterly scoffed at the memory, resting your chin on your knees as you exhaled. On the brink of crumbling just recalling it, “Told me that you might’ve settled on a colony on a different planet or got stuck in some fucked-up time dilation. That you might still be alive out there somewhere.” 

If his throat wasn’t already raw, he would’ve screamed at the screen that he was. 

Wanted to beg you not to fucking believe whatever bullshit everyone else was feeding you and believe in him. 

“You don’t feel dead,” you added. Sniffling a little, using the back of your hand to rub underneath your eyes. “Maybe it’d be easier to move on if you did.”

Even his relief was tainted by guilt, ruined with his own worry that he was ruining your future by wishing you’d be stuck on him forever. 

“My therapist thinks I’m wasting my life waiting on someone who’s never coming back,” you murmured, speaking to him more like you were talking to your diary than truly believing he was going to hear any of it. “But how am I supposed to tell her I’m scared that some day you will, and I won’t be here?” 

Everything hurt.

His body, his heart, his soul. 

Aching for everything he’d lost. Everything you lost because of him. His own kids growing up without a fucking father because he was an idiot who put a career before his family. 

The life he’d spent years carefully building towards lost because he miscalculated. 

“I know it’s not fair, but fuck, thinking about you moving on with another girl, or fucking starting some colony up in space and having kids with someone else, makes me wanna throw up,” you admitted, clueless that he had just puked at the idea of someone else being the stepfather to his twins. 

You hadn’t even confirmed-

“I’m being a hypocrite,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands to hide the fact you were crying — and that’s when it hit him.

The engagement ring on your finger wasn’t his.

Smaller. More subtle. A different cut and style. 

No. You couldn’t-

“I’ve, um, been dating a guy for a few years. He’s sweet. Everyone loves to tell me how much you would’ve liked him,” you admitted, twisting the ring around your finger anxiously like you were confessing a sin. He didn’t like him. Already hated whatever bastard had snuck in and swept you off your feet. “They keep saying that you’d want me to move on.” 

What a load of fucking shit.

The last goddamn thing he wanted was for you to move on. The idea of you marrying another man was enough for him to gag again, bile rising from his stomach as he struggled to stop it. 

“I still love you,” you shrugged a little, guilt of your own etched in your face as his eyes stung with more tears. “I just love him too.”

Gojo would take getting stabbed over hearing those words from your lips again.

“Choso said maybe it’d make me feel better to make another video for you, y’know, get everything off my chest,” you exhaled. “I’m just so tired, Satoru.” 

Okay, well, that kind of felt like being stabbed. 

Knowing that this was all his fault and you were the one bearing so much of the burden. 

“I know you’re probably never going to see this, but you’d want me to be happy, wouldn’t you?” You asked, eyes big and wavering as you struggled not to sob, reaching up to play with the silver chain of your necklace tucked under your shirt. “Would you hate me for choosing someone who cares about me and our kids?” 

He could never hate you.

Even if you married ten other men while he was gone.

He would just always hate the man who got to call you their wife. Jealous of whichever one got to take family photos with you and take you on vacation and sleep next to you every night. 

Gojo wanted to be that guy. Wanted to get down on his knees next to you now and dry your cheeks, kiss your mouth and murmur anything you wanted to hear just to make you feel better.

“I’m getting married in four months,” you murmured, wiping the tears away from underneath your eyes, mascara smearing on the back of your hand as you sniffled. “At that chapel we picked out. The one with the pretty hydrangeas out front.”

No no no. 

He could still make it. 

Couldn’t he? 

If they skipped the supply drop entirely and went straight back through the wormhole? 

Hadn’t he lost enough? 

Gojo refused to let you slip through his fingers a second time. No matter how fast the hourglass was running out of sand. 

You stood up, walking out of frame for a few seconds as he heard the sound of something unzipping. And then you came back, holding out something white and-

A wedding dress. 

“You never got to see me in one, so I thought-” You didn’t finish your sentence, just swallowing hard as you draped it back down on furniture just out of sight. 

The camera barely focused on your body as you peeled your clothes off, his breath hitching at the intimate sight of you slipping the dress on, struggling to zip the back by yourself before walking closer. 

You looked like an angel.

And Gojo sorta wished he was dead. 

Stuck in the stunned shell of his body as he watched the way the dress clung to your chest and flowed to the ground, his heart thrumming loud enough he was sure it was about to break through his ribcage. 

And then a noise in the background startled you. 

The thud of a door shutting. The excited clamoring of children, a girl giggling as a man said something he couldn’t quite make out. 

Your face scrunched up, a million different emotions flashing across it as you both heard it at the same time. “We’re back, baby.” 

Another man was calling you baby. 

Footsteps echoing down a hallway he’d never gotten to walk down, your own body rushing over to block the door before it could open. 

“I’m trying my wedding dress on, Cho,” you called out, lips pressing together in a pretty pout. “It’s bad luck if you see.” 

“Yeah? We brought back your favorite takeout, want me to put it in the fridge or-” he started asking, his voice deep, gravelly. 

“You can leave it out,” you replied, your voice softening as you spoke to him. “I’ll be out in a minute.” 

You glanced back at the camera, guilt returning the second your stare hovered over at it. 

And before Gojo could even really appreciate what a beautiful bride you made, you were rushing to get out of it, biting your lips before stuffing it back into a garment bag, putting your clothes back and returning to your seat. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, fingers trembling as your hand reflexively reached for your necklace again. “I wish things were different.” 

It could be.

It would be. 

Even if a little voice in the back of his head suggested that you might not leave your current fiancé for him if he made it back in time. 

That you might choose the man that had actually been there for you all this time. 

Behind you, there was a knock on the door. 

“Can I come in now?” 

No. 

This was supposed to be private, a one-sided conversation that was for his ears only, but you were glancing back over your shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you quietly answered. 

Gojo almost wished your fiancé was ugly. That it would make it easy for you to pick him instead.

But of course, he had to be annoyingly attractive, dark hair hanging around his shoulders and bangs that reminded him of the best friend he just damned as he casually walked over to you, concern etched into his sharp face as he leaned in to press a kiss on the top of your forehead. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, but then his eyes shifted and he noticed what you were filming. “Oh, baby.” 

The sound of someone who knew you were hurting. Who cared. 

“I’m okay, really, I’m just saying goodbye,” you murmured, like they both couldn’t tell how close you were to breaking down. 

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” he spoke gently, his touch lingering on your skin like it really was his now. “Apollo and Yuji want to go spend the night with one of their friends.” 

Gojo wanted to strangle him. 

Fly through the space and stars just to give him a black eye for just how casually he spoke about his son. 

Although some sliver of him was well fucking aware that Choso had probably been more of a dad to Apollo than he’d ever gotten to be. 

“That’s fine,” you shrugged, nodding a little as your body relaxed, tension lifting from your shoulders the longer you looked at him. 

Gojo hated that he could see that you really did love him in your eyes. 

See that familiar glimmer shining in them as you looked up at a stranger instead of him. 

Choso left the room, but his presence didn’t. 

You stared at the door for a few moments after it shut, but you didn’t say whatever you were thinking. Kept it bottled up before you eventually looked back at Satoru. 

Not that you could even see him. 

You thought you were talking to a ghost. 

That’s all he’d become to you. To his children. A phantom haunting rooms he’d never entered. Lingering in empty spaces he should’ve been. A spectre living in the shadows of your heads. 

“I miss you,” you murmured, reaching for the button one last time to shut it off. “I don’t think that will change. But I can’t keep believing you’re coming home.” 

No. Please no. 

He was.

“I love you, Satoru,” you half-whispered, choking the words out. “Goodbye.” 

The screen went dark. 

His reflection staring back at him. Cheeks wet with tears that wouldn’t stop, breaking down as he fell apart, nausea swirling as he forced himself to stand and step around where he’d thrown up, pacing the floor as his brain struggled to work through a problem he didn’t know how to solve. 

He went back to the console, frowning when he tried to start recording to send a message back out to you, to beg you to just give him a little more time, but nothing happened. 

Body and brain barely working together to frantically tap buttons, staring at what data was available to see if he could find when the transmission was received. 

A faint flicker of hope stirring when he realized it had only been two days ago. 

You weren’t married yet. 

Maybe there was time.

And even if there wasn’t, he’d do his damndest to get there and wreck your marriage if it meant winning you back. 

He was a wreck, stumbling out of the room to rush to find Shoko, nearly tripping on his own feet as he found her by the controls, her neat brunette brows scrunching together in disgust when she saw the state he was in. 

“What the hell-” 

Gojo wasn’t sure he was even speaking in full sentences when he started rambling about time dilation, about how they already missed a goddamn decade, her mouth curling down into a tight frown as he got into the details of how they needed to go home now. 

“We don’t have the fuel,” she deadpanned, drawing his attention to the data on screen. “We can make it to our supply drop, but unless they have some there, we’ll probably be stuck on their settlement until another crew comes along.” 

That wasn’t a fucking option. 

They had to make it.

But even when he spent the next forty-eight hours crunching the numbers and calculating different ways to return, he still came to the same conclusion – Shoko was right. 

And still said ‘I told you so’ when he said fine to going to the planet for the supply drop, figuring that at least if the load was lighter, he might be able to make what they had left stretch. 

He was barely showering. 

Barely eating. 

Manic energy getting him through the long days and longer nights to avoid the dreams that would only mock him for all his failures. 

They were just filled with your face, with Suguru’s, of children that called another man dad. 

Filling his notebooks with different calculations he was desperate to get right this time. 

Skin crawling with the fear that he’d fuck this up and lose you forever. 

He didn’t get to mourn Suguru. Couldn’t mourn the years he missed. 

Not if he didn’t want to miss the rest of them. 

By the time they made it to the next planet, he was a wreck. Practically shoved in the shower by Shoko to get cleaned up before they landed, feeling ill when he was forced to get his suit back on, praying to whatever higher power might be out there to let there be fuel. Let him go home to his family. 

This planet wasn’t full of water. Wasn’t one big ocean. 

Landing in a lush green field, not far from real buildings, actual structures erected, fellow scientists rushing out to greet them as Shoko worked fast to unload the supplies with their help.

Gojo knew he probably sounded like a lunatic rushing to get his request for fuel out as soon as possible, counting the seconds in his head as he hoped that they weren’t months passing for you back home. 

“I need to get back to my fiancée, my kids, please," he begged, pleading without caring how pathetic it came out when everyone here had given up their lives on Earth in the name of science and research. 

“I’m sorry,” their de facto leader apologized, an astronaut he once grew up looking up to frowning at him as he glanced around at their simple setup to search for anything that could help him. “We don’t have any. There’s going to be another supply drop in a month, more people coming to live here. You could probably go back with them if-” 

“No,” he accidentally interrupted, the word ripped from the back of his chest as he recoiled. 

It couldn’t end like this. 

He’d be too late if he stayed.

“Satoru,” Shoko hissed, pulling him back as his breathing got ragged, on the verge of a panic attack. 

“Shoko, they don’t-” 

“I know,” she cut him off, swallowing hard as she fixed him with her steady stare. “Look, I’ll stay here. You take the lander back. Without me and all this stuff, the fuel should last.” 

“You want me to leave you?” He asked, automatically shaking his head no at the absurd suggestion. 

“I don’t have anyone waiting for me back on Earth anyway,” she shrugged.

He didn’t have the seconds to debate it. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, his chest already aching at the idea of being alone on the ship. 

“Go get your wife back,” she huffed. “Name one of your next kids after me.” 

“Deal,” he breathed, throwing her arms around her in a rushed hug before he had to sprint back to the lander. 

Both his best friends left behind on planets he knew he’d never get back to. 

And still, he wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to make it back to the one they came from. 

He wasn’t even meant to be the navigator. 

Wasn’t supposed to be the one frantically typing in coordinates and rushing through checklists to get back home. 

Struggling and squinting at the consoles, breathing heavy when everything was inputted, running the numbers again and again.

He should make it.

Although, his current path put him at landing in some random field in the middle of nowhere, NASA would probably be rushing to get there once they realized it was one of their landers. 

If only he could send out a fucking transmission. 

He tried to figure out why it wouldn’t work, fiddling with it almost every day in failed attempts to fix it and rewatching your videos when his energy threatened to run out. 

Gojo hadn’t cut his hair in months. That was something Suguru usually helped him with. It was nearly touching his shoulders, looking like a stranger in his reflection in the fogged-up mirror on the occasions he’d make himself shower and scrub his skin until it was practically red.

But maybe you liked men with longer hair now. Wouldn’t mind the fact that he changed too. 

When he slept, he made it to the chapel just in time, rushing through the double doors right when the officiant asked if anyone objected. 

He would whisk you away, dip you down and kiss you, fingers sinking into the silk of your wedding dress as he begged you to still be his. 

Some part of him felt like it was all light years away. 

Up until Earth was outside his window, his heart thrumming at the thought of you down there, sharing a bed with someone else while he was fighting so hard to come back to you. Did he fuck you as good?

Make sure you finished every single time? Dot your face with kisses and carry you into the bathroom? Make all your favorite foods and worship the ground you walked on every day? 

Gojo didn’t know if he’d be able to handle knowing.

But fuck, if it meant he’d still get to have you, he’d share you with that asshole. 

Gojo still couldn’t send a transmission, had no way of actually notifying anyone when he got in the lander, flipping switches and changing settings as he got behind the controls. 

Shutting his eyes for a few seconds as he set the coordinates, palms sweating as he clutched the controls. If his math was right, today would be the day you were supposed to be standing at the altar. 

He could do this. 

Failing wasn’t an option.

Not after everything that had brought him here. 

“I’m coming home, sweetheart,” he murmured, a little aware that he had probably lost it if he was talking to himself up here. 

But he hoped you could feel him. 

That even if you were wearing your wedding dress right now, you would be able to sense him somehow. Clinging to the hope that yours hadn’t completely faded yet. 

The landing fucking sucked. 

Hitting the ground too hard, his head snapping forward fast enough he was pretty sure he had a concussion or whiplash, body bracing for the impact as it skidded to a stop in a corn field an hour from that chapel he just toured with you last year. Even if it’d been more like twelve to you. 

It still didn’t stop him from rushing to get out, nearly kissing the ground as he stumbled out. Sucking in the fresh air as he glanced around, his legs trembling as he forced himself to keep moving, well aware he definitely looked like shit even if he tried to clean himself up before his, ah, crash landing. 

“Are you okay? What the fuck is-” 

Gojo grimaced as he glanced up to find someone who pulled over on the side of the road, a stranger squinting at him and the wrecked lander in disbelief. 

“Uh, could you give me a ride?” 

Maybe the universe had decided to cut him some slack. Give him a helping hand as he sat in the passenger seat of a beat-up truck, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as he noticed the new phone in the cupholder. 

“Do, uh, you mind if I make a couple calls?” He asked, the distant sound of sirens echoing as they put mile after mile away from the lander – and inched closer and closer to you. 

“Sure,” his new friend shrugged, using his face to unlock his phone at the next stoplight and passing it over. 

Gojo still had your number memorized. 

Even if you didn’t pick up the phone for him. 

No voicemail box set up either, just the generic ‘please leave a message at the beep’ he didn’t have it in him to oblige. He hurried to dial one of his old contacts from NASA he remembered, not sure if Ijichi would pick up either. 

But they did. 

“Hello?” Ijichi croaked, almost sounding like he just woke up, or maybe was sick. 

“Hey, it’s, uh, me,” he said, tapping his fingers on the side of the window. “I sorta crash landed. You guys are gonna want to send someone out to take care of clean up.” 

“Satoru?” 

“Yeah, it’s, um, been a bit, hasn’t it?” He awkwardly chuckled, rambling off the coordinates twice, sure that Ijichi was scrambling to get them down before he exhaled. “Look, I’ve got a wedding to crash. I’ll check in later.” 

Gojo hung up before he could get caught up in any more stupid space bullshit. 

He was finished. 

Ready to spend the rest of his years devoted solely to you and his twins. 

Would you be happy to see him? 

Let him pick you up and press kiss after kiss to your mouth and promise that you missed him? 

He’d spent so long daydreaming about it that he didn’t really know what to do when the truck pulled into the very much empty parking lot of the chapel. 

Was he too early? 

Too late? 

Walking up to the double doors and pulling them open to find barren pews illuminated by stained glass windows. He walked around like an idiot, something pricking at the back of his brain that he wouldn’t listen to as he looked outside at the cemetery next to it. 

He didn’t have a real reason for going back out there. 

Just some invisible string tugging him there as he held his breath, searching for proof in the last place he wanted to find it. 

And there it was. 

Sitting underneath a willow tree waiting for him. 

He stared at the gravestone. Your name etched into the stone – with another man’s last name attached to it. 

His knees gave out. Collapsed underneath him as a broken sob racked through his body, hitting the hard ground as his body surrendered to the pain. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, sucking in shallow breaths as he cried for the life you had. 

The one he hadn’t been there to give you. 

You couldn’t be- 

Someone tapped on his back. 

He turned fast, shaking as his eyes landed on your face. His pretty girl, probably a good twenty years older than him, aged like a fine wine as your mouth fell open in a surprised gasp. He reached out, fingers trembling as he nearly touched your cheek from his position on the ground, but you froze.

“Dad?” 

It wasn’t you. 

Artemis tried helping him up, tears springing up in her eyes as she immediately hugged him, his brain fractured as he realized that his daughter was here. His daughter was older than him. How much time had passed? How fucking off was he? 

“Oh my god, it’s actually you, when I got the call, I didn’t think-” 

“Artemis?” He breathed her name, wishing he’d gotten the opportunity to say it to her a million more times. “You’re-” 

“Holy shit, I have to call everyone,” she grinned, her smile hurting his chest when it looked so much like yours. “Apollo isn’t gonna believe it. You know, you’re already, like, a great grandpa thanks to him, by the way.” 

Every word was a fresh punch to the gut. 

A great grandfather. 

He never even got to be a father. 

Missed his kids growing up, getting married, having kids of their own, and even them having kids. 

“How long has it been?” He asked, his voice raw, broken chords of disbelief as Artemis' face twisted up, looking behind him as it struck her that he hadn’t known any of it.  

“Since you left?” She awkwardly spoke, tilting her head as she scratched the back of her neck. There was a wedding band on her finger. Did your husband walk her down the aisle? “Um, about fifty years?” 

Four months had been forty years. 

Gojo couldn’t stop himself from crying again, wiping away his cheeks faster, ashamed of what he’d done. 

A fool masquerading as a man. 

Artemis awkwardly wrapped an arm around him, trying to soothe him as she used her free hand to send texts like he couldn’t see through the tears. Sobs wracking through him as the dam inside him broke, reduced to rubble as he fell apart. Painfully aware that he was only inches away from you, and still no closer at all. 

He’d never hold you again. Never touch you again. 

Wouldn’t get to see your smile or hear your laugh, feel the warmth of your affection. 

His children wouldn’t need him. 

For a while, his daughter just sat there with him. Let him cry until he managed to halfway collect himself, his eyes swollen and sore as he struggled to breathe, body aching and stomach starving despite how sick he felt every time he looked up and saw your grave. 

“She passed away last year,” Artemis muttered. “She’d been sick for a while.” 

God, he felt like he was going to die right now. 

Figured it would hurt less than hearing about everything he missed. 

“She talked about you a lot. Made you out to be a big hero,” his daughter smiled softly, obviously trying to make him feel better. You should’ve turned him into the bad guy. “I actually work at NASA. God, she was pretty pissed at me when she found out I even applied, but I promised that I wouldn’t go to space so, uh-” 

It seemed like she inherited his ability to shove his foot in his mouth, her lips clamping shut as she realized that maybe this wasn’t the time. 

“Apollo’s a teacher now,” she abruptly changed the subject, and he didn’t know what to say.

Just staring at her in shock, unable to form proper sentences when he thought he was coming home to a preteen – not a fully grown woman who looked so much like you it hurt to breathe. “Oh, there he is.” 

He looked over to see his son was walking down the path with an old man, talking between each other with furrowed expressions. 

Watched the shock register on their faces when they saw Gojo there. 

He didn’t know what to say when they finally approached, the thick silence and tension simmering in the air as he stared at Apollo. 

Strands of silver in his white hair, blue eyes burning with emotions he didn’t blame him for. Resentment. Reproach. 

“You’re-” 

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he heard himself say, voice cracking painfully. 

“Yeah,” his son huffed, arms folding across his broad chest. “Us too.”

“Apollo,” the older man next to him scolded, giving him a fatherly look that seemed so natural on his face before throwing Gojo a look that was almost like ‘kids, right?’ “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Choso.” 

And despite the fact he had to be in his seventies now, Gojo still sort of wanted to hit him.

Rip the golden band off his finger and start a fight over the fact he’d gotten to spend decades with the love of his life. 

“Was she happy?” He asked instead, hollowed out, no strength left in him to stand. 

“She was,” Artemis softly confirmed, patting his shoulder like he was a child. And he wondered if she had kids too, or if even his son’s children were older than him now. 

“She missed you,” Choso added, more mature than Gojo suspected he would ever be.

Because right now, he was filled with hate.

Anger and rage boiling and burning under the surface at the injustice of all of it. At everything he missed. Everything that should’ve been his that ended up in the hands of someone else because he was too stupid to hold onto you tight enough.

He hated Choso. Hated space. Hated the universe. 

Mostly though, he hated himself.

“We should go get some food,” Artemis artfully pivoted away, trying to tug him upright. “You’re probably starving, right?”

Gojo thought he nodded, not that he was totally in tune with his body, dazed as he tried to sort through the thousand thoughts flooding through his mind.

Numbness creeping in now that he knew it had all been for nothing.

“Before I forget,” she murmured, taking off a necklace he hadn’t noticed her wearing. The thin silver chain weighed down by two rings dangling at the end. The engagement ring he once gave you – and a plain band of white-gold. “Mom always wore it. She told me she bought the band for you before you were supposed to come back and could never bring herself to put either of them away.” 

She dropped it in his palm, his pulse pounding in his ears at the proof you never fully gave up on him. One last thread of you in his hands as he automatically unlocked the clasp and put it on himself, the weight of it sitting over his chest and tethering him back to reality.

To the two children he made with you standing in front of him now he was still lucky enough to meet. 

Artemis interlocked her arm with her brother, laughing at something he said before immediately beginning to bicker about where to eat at, who to call next.

Giggling about their sister, his throat closing at the confirmation you had another baby after him. That you lived a full life he’d only get to see second-hand. Through photos and stories instead of in person. 

Apollo grumbled something under his breath, throwing a glare back at Gojo, still protective over you after you passed. Artemis just elbowed her brother though, tossing the hair back over her other shoulder that reminded him of you.

And some depressing part of him wondered if that’s what you and him would’ve looked like together one day if he stayed. 

He would never get to know. 

His eyes drifted back to your grave. And then the one next to it. 

His name etched next to yours. A plot you must have purchased for him back when you thought you’d never get his body back. 

A loving fiancé and father. 

Gojo was grateful he would at least get to be buried next to you one day. 

You spent your life missing and mourning him.

He supposed it was just his turn. 

sukuna’s eyes flick lazily to you, tucked in the corner. you’re chatting it up with one of your friends, wearing those little wire-rimmed glasses that make you look harmless, a sweatshirt pulled snug over your frame like you're hiding yourself from the party. you don’t belong here. and that’s exactly why the dare piques his interest.

“i could pull anyone,” sukuna scoffs, grinning slow, sharp, and smug. “but, sure. why not?” he doesn’t even think twice about it. it’s just a game. always has been. he strides over to you like he owns the room, all confidence and heat, sliding himself into your conversation without hesitation. that cocky smile is burned into your memory by the time the night is over.

fratboy!sukuna who wasn’t expecting you to be so fucking pretty up close. when you finally tilt your head up to look at him, his world stutters for half a second. you’re biting your lip nervously, adjusting your glasses, and your voice is sweeter than he expected when you mutter, “do you... uh, need something?” pretty. soft. so completely opposite everything he’s ever gone for before. something about it makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn’t like or understand, but still, sukuna pushes deeper— complimenting your smile, teasing you subtly until you flush, and offering to walk you out when the party dies down. you let him, much to his surprise.

but at first? it’s just harmless fun. he wasn’t expecting to fuck you right away— thought you’d be one of those ‘pure’ types, the ones that get all flustered if someone stares too long at their lips. but you surprise him almost immediately. when he leans in closer and murmurs, “you seem tense, sweetheart. never had a guy flirt with you before?” you blink up at him, smirk tugging at the corners of your lips, and say, “not like you.” it’s enough to make his cock twitch in his jeans before you excuse yourself with a cute little “goodnight,” leaving sukuna more frustrated than he’s been in a loooong time.

fratboy!sukuna who starts bumping into you more often after that night. in class. at the library. in the quad. it shouldn’t mean anything, but everytime he runs into you, there you are— dressed modestly but with this soft, natural kind of beauty that drives him insane. your hair always smells sweet, and when you look up from your books and push your glasses up the bridge of your nose, it fucking wrecks him. he turns it into a game; teasing you relentlessly, taking the empty seat next to you in lectures just to mutter filthy things under his breath that make your cheeks heat up, watching out of the corner of his eye as your thighs subtly clench. sukuna can tell you don’t play games like this, and that’s why it’s so fun for him.

fratboy!sukuna who decides to make a move during yet another party. you don’t go often, but this time sukuna had a hand in convincing you to show up. tossing careless words your way all week, like, “i don’t get why you hide all the time. bet they’ve never seen you in a dress,” followed by a wink. to his surprise, you actually show up— looking fucking gorgeous, no less. your usual baggy sweatshirt gone in favor of a tight little dress that hugs your curves. he wasn’t supposed to react to this, wasn’t supposed to notice how good you look, but fuck, now his mouth is dry, and he wants you bad.

it starts with small talk, heated glances, subtle touches— his fingers brushing the back of your thigh when no one’s watching, the deep rasp in his voice when he leans in close and murmurs, “you’re gonna ruin me tonight.” you giggle nervously, but he sees the way your eyes light up. like you can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him.

fratboy!sukuna who ends up with you pinned against the wall of his room an hour later, tearing that tight little dress straight off your body. the whole night had led to this— him pushing boundaries, you not stopping him— and now, sukuna admits, you’re better than any fuck he’s imagined. he’s fucking obsessed already. you’re shaking, clinging to his shoulders, your soft moans muffled against his neck as he whispers filthy shit into your ear, voice dipping low like gravel. “knew you’d be fucking sweet, baby. that tight little pussy just begging for me to ruin it.” he lifts you easily, shameless about the way he palms your ass roughly, swirling his thick cock around your entrance before thrusting in completely.

you cry out as he stretches you, and sukuna loses his mind with how tight and wet you feel. he rams into you relentlessly, sweat dripping from his forehead as he fists the back of your hair, tilting your head to force you to look at him. “see that, sweetheart? look at yourself. cockdrunk already, yeah? can’t take your eyes off me, huh?” his grin spreads wider as the tears stream down your cheeks, overwhelmed sobs escaping your lips as your body trembles with every brutal thrust. he knows it’s nasty. he knows he’s going too far, sucking marks into your neck, positioning you how he wants, legs thrown high over his shoulders so he can jackhammer into you, then face down on the mattress so he can admire the pretty way you arch your back for him.

fratboy!sukuna who falls harder than he ever thought he could. it’s not just about fucking anymore— the way you unravel under his touch, the soft, nervous laugh you make when he teases you about being a little nerd, the way you whisper “missed you” everytime he leave— it leaves an ache in his chest, one that spreads further every time he sees you. he wasn’t supposed to like you. you were a fucking dare. but now, you giggle and ramble about some book you love after he’s fucked you raw, completely naked in his lap as you tuck your face under his chin, and sukuna realizes he doesn’t want anyone else in the room except you.

fratboy!sukuna who’s falling, and you notice. you see the change in how he touches you— his hands lingering longer on the curve of your back, the soft way he tucks your hair behind your ear. it terrifies you because for as much as he looks at you like you’re the only girl in the room, you know what he is. you know every girl he’s fucked, every name he’s probably forgotten. men like sukuna don’t fall. they don’t change. he can’t love you— not someone like him.

but then he fucks up. after sneaking you out of his room following another sleepover, one of his frat brothers makes a comment when you pass. “finally bagged her, huh, sukuna?” his friend grins, smug as ever, not noticing the storm brewing in sukuna’s sharp glare. “always knew you’d win the da—” the word doesn’t finish before sukuna slams him against the wall, snarling something about shutting the fuck up and staying in his lane. you freeze. the dare. you weren’t stupid— you put it all together as all the pieces fell into place, and the betrayal sinks deep into your chest.

“what dare?” you ask quietly when sukuna catches up to you afterward, his favorite cocky mask faltering. “tell me, sukuna. was i just some bet to you?”

and the thing is— he wants to deny it. to explain that he didn’t think you’d matter to him, to admit you were supposed to be nothing... but then somehow became everything. but he can’t form the words, and you’re already pulling away.

fratboy!sukuna who doesn’t know how to fix it. he doesn’t know how to look you in the eyes and admit, i fucked up. i fucked up, but i’m in love with you. and now you're gone, just like that, leaving him empty in a way he’s never felt before. of all the shit he’s landed himself in, none of it compares to the ache of knowing he lost you, the one girl he never intended to care about in the first place. you were supposed to be a game. why does it feel like his whole world just shattered?

fratboy!sukuna who hates himself, realizing too late that he never gave a fuck about the dare— that the first time you smiled at him, he was already yours. but now? now he’s sitting alone on that same couch with his cock in his hand, scrolling through blurry photos of you, drunk and desperate because no matter who he tries to touch now, nothing feels like you. maybe he fucking deserves it…

⊹　 + * 　 ⊹ 　 °. * ✧

men seem to gravitate towards you and your magnetic energy. you flirt, hang out, you hook up, sometimes it turns into a few weeks, sometimes it’s a bathroom at a party or a spare room upstairs.

choso keeps talking about finals, he’s clocked the low neckline of your top and the enticing glitter on your eyelids. he loved your look.

you yap on about some dumb all nighter you'd pulled with maki last finals when movement to your left steals all of your attention away.

someone falls onto the couch beside you.

you glance over without thinking and then your brain just… stops.

she’s closer than you’ve ever seen her. she's not across a packed room on some far away couch you can't really see. she's not out the back smoking a cigarette by herself.

she's here, right here, next to you.

shoko.

she’s wearing black, of course, but it’s not gross and try hard. she's got on a wellspring fitting cami with some jeans and nice shoes.

god, pretty isn’t even the right word to describe this woman. up close she's ethereal.

you realise you’ve never actually looked at her so near. she's normally laughing low with yuki or utahime in a different world than you in the background. now she’s close enough you can see her long lashes, her clear skin, that pretty beauty mark below her eye.

jeez, was she a model?

choso follows your line of sight and lifts his hand. “yo, shoko.”

she gives him a small wave without perking up. “hey.”

that’s it. no effort or over the top conversation starters. she was nonchalant from what you could tell.

choso turns back to you like the interaction never happened.

“anyway,” he says, leaning in again. “if i survive finals, you should come over. i’ll cook. i’m actually so goated at cooking.”

right. you nod automatically, but you’re not hearing him. your focus keeps faling sideways. you’re hyper aware of shoko. you were like a puppy in that sense, whenever you saw a pretty girl you had a sort of urge to be her friend.

only this time, the feeling felt.. off? was that the right word? like you wanted so badly to talk to her like you did with everyone else, but the thought of actually doing it was making you queazy.

why is this making you weird?

you try to ground yourself. this is nothing. she’s just a girl. a pretty girl, sure, but that shouldn’t matter. you’ve been around pretty girls your whole life!

choso’s ringed hand finds your plush thigh and squeezes it tightly. it makes you shiver and suddenly? not in a good way.

“hey,” you say desperately trying to deflect, forcing a grin. “you see gojo?”

he squints past you. gojo is strewn out on the frats expensive rug, laughing and gagging while geto tries his best to keep him upright.

“oh shit,” choso sighs. “he’s gonna puke.”

“yeah,” you say. “might wanna save the carpet.”

choso stop, then sighs. “damn it. i’ll be back.”

he’s up and gone in seconds calling gojo’s name.

you sit there with your cup in your hands, and you're suddenly very, very aware of yourself. your posture, your smile, the fact that you don’t know what to do with your face. when did this ever happen?

shoko moves to pull a cigarette from her pocket. she taps it against the pack, then lights it. the flame lights up her cheekbone for a second and your eyes snag on it.

you let out a laugh that comes out a little off. “uh. wow.”

she looks at you with the smokiest, seductive eyes, raising her eyebrow.

“sorry,” you say quickly. “girls don’t usually smoke. well. around me, i mean.” oh no. was that rude?..

you suppose not since she's now giving you a soft, delicate smile.

“yeah,” she says. “i get that.”

okay. she has a nice voice too. great.

you turn toward her fully, pulling out your biggest smile, the one that always charms people. “hey. my name’s [name]. it’s nice to meet you. i’ve seen you around here before, right?” god, i sound like a high schooler!

she looks you very slowly, playing with the cigarette in her hand. your stomach flips and you don’t know why.

“yeah,” she says. “i know who you are.”

... was that a good thing?

“oh!” you laugh. “all good things, i hope.”

“mostly,” she says, lips pulling up.

yikes, so no..

she leans back again with the cigarette balanced between her fingers, and something about all of this feels so unfair. like she’s not trying, like at all, and still winning.

you clear your throat and try to talk to her the way you do with every other girl, ask her some questions!

“so,” you say, tilting your head. “you looking to hookup with any cute guys tonight?”

she actually laughs. right in your face.

“hm,” she says. “definitely not my thing.”

your smile drops for half a second before you recover. “yeah? that's fair. not everyone’s into that.”

“no,” she says, eyes steady on yours. “not everyone.”

you nod like that makes sense. maybe she’s just above it? maybe she’s one of those girls who hates hookup culture, that was fine! you'll talk about something else. you’re already lining up your next question to ask this beautiful women when hands grab your arms from behind.

“there you are.”

before you can react, you’re being lifted up, laughing as well as awkwardly protesting as a group of your friends haul you off the couch.

“wait, what-”

“come on, come on,” one of them says. “we gotta go.”

you twist around with your heels barely touching the floor. “hey, i’ll catch you next time,” you call out to shoko.

she lifts her hand again, cigarette still between her fingers. “sure,” she says.

and you're pulled off for good.

they reel you out to the back porch as you free your arms and whip your head around to scowl at your overly confident friends.

“what the hell was that?”

one of the girls scoffs. “we were saving you.”

“from what,” you say. “a new friend?”

they exchange looks and then burst out laughing.

“from looking like a fucking lesbian,” one of them says.

the word spikes you through your already pumping heart.

“w-what do you mean,” you ask, becoming more and more oblivious.

they roll their eyes. “that’s shoko. she’s like, the token lesbian. always high off her face talking to her other lesbo friends. you really wanna be seen all over her?”

“yeah,” another adds. “people will talk. you’ve got a rep.”

your face feels hot, not with embarrassment but with a rising feeling of anger. “so what? i was just being nice.”

“sure,” she says. “but people don’t read it that way. we didn’t want you embarrassing yourself over some gay loser.”

your mind jumps back to shoko’s smile. 'not my thing.'

oh.

“that’s what she meant,” you mumble.

“what.”

“nothing.”

you open your mouth to spit something back, to say something equally as rude to these insensitive jerks, but the porch door swings open and they’ve already gone back inside, mean laughter following behind them.

you’ve been left standing there with a pounding heart and an extremely confused brain.

not her thing, huh?

~

gojo’s room stunk of dior sauvage and pineapple vape vapour. why anyone would choose pineapple over something like grape or watermelon still baffles you, but whatever. still, it wasn't necessarily a horrible smell, he had the window cracked open, so there's that.

the white haired man pulls out of you with a long groan, then pushes himself up on one elbow and grins down at your naked body, his hairs a mess, his eyes are happy as if he didn’t just wreck the bed. “wow,” he coos. “you're always such a good lay, babe.”

you snort, reaching for your discarded bra. “you’re so welcome.”

he laughs and rolls onto his back, stretching out like a cat. you’ve known him too long for this to be awkward, sleeping with gojo has always been easy. you’re both hot, popular, both bored enough to circle back to each other whenever the timing lines up.

friends first and benefits second. it works out.

he pulls himself up to sit on his elbows again. “seriously though. ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“what a charmer,” you say, smiling.

“what can i say.”

you swing your legs over the side of the bed, and grab your underwear.

would now be a good time to pick this guys brain about the girl who's been haunting your dreams ? probly not, but fuck it we ball.

you move around like you need to say something or it'll make your head explode into a bajillion tiny pieces.

gojo notices. “you good?”

you sigh, then pull up your underwear.

“hey,” you say. “can i ask you something?”

he blinks. “uh. sure? kind of late to get shy now.”

you roll your eyes. “not that.”

he waits, still naked, completely oblivious of the brain spiral you’re about to drag him into.

“what do you know about shoko?” you ask.

okay, it's out in the open. nothing you can do now.

gojo’s smile flickers, confusion flashing across his face. “uhm, shoko?”

“yeah,” you nod. "like. what’s she like? and uh. if she has a… partner.”

you almost say girlfriend but that word feels so weird in your gob.

gojo lets out an awkward laugh. “damn, talk about whiplash. you ask that now?”

your cheeks warm up. “urgh, just answer.”

“okay, okay,” he says, hands up. “relax.”

he scratches the back of his neck, thinking. “she’s been friends with me and suguru since highschool. she’s cool. kind of quiet but she’s funny if you like katie b kinda humour. smokes a lot, drinks a lot. yeah, that's pretty much it."

hm, that lines up well with the vision in your mind.

“and,” he adds, “no. she doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

you exhale with your shoulders dropping. relief?

no. not relieved. that’s not the word, you don’t care, obviously. it’s just curiosity.

gojo squints at you. “why do you look like that?”

“like what,” you throw back.

“like you just found out finals got cancelled.”

you scoff. “shut up.”

he studies you for a sec, then shrugs. “whatever. you’re weird.”

he doesn’t pry because why why would he?

the thought of you being anything but the girl you are doesn’t even cross his mind.

you force a smile and stand up. “hmm. this has been fun, but i gotta run.”

“already,” he says, pouting like a baby. “come on. stay! we can talk, or cuddle, or something!"

you grab your jeans, shaking your head. “maybe next time.”

he reaches for you, fingers brushing your wrist. “please?”

you laugh and gently pull away. “you’re so needy.”

“you love it.”

"mm, debatable."

you grab the rest of your shit and head for the door. you did feel bad, but let's be honest, if you stayed and 'talked' you'd just circle the conversation back to shoko, and you didn't particularly want to face the strange feeling in your stomach when it came to her name.

gojo sits up, catching you before you leave. "hey! there’s a party tomorrow night. you should be my plus one.”

you pause at the door. “sorry, satoru. i’m already invited.”

“yeah, but.. still. you should find me.”

you grit your teeth into something that looks like a smile. “if i see you.”

he opens his mouth to say more, but you’re already pulling the door open.

“later, gojo.”

“later,” he calls, mock offended. “text me.”

you don’t answer. you shut the door before he can keep whining.

you step out and oh. you forgot where you were, their frat.

perfect.

you slip your shoes on trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping not to run into anyone else. half the guys here have seen you naked. the other half have tried. the last thing you need right now is a comment or a look.

you turn a corner and nearly crash into toji who's shirtless, a towel resting over his shoulder.

he raises a brow. “leaving so soon?”

“god." you say. “don’t start.”

he smirks. “didn’t plan on it.”

you pass choso in the stairwell, who gives you a small nod like he wasn't tryna get it on last week. you return it.

thank the lord, you're finally out of that maze.

a week. it’s been a whole week and she’s still there poking around in your head. you just had like... a friend crush on her, right? you just wanted to be her friend. that's it. just really, really badly..

after all, finals are coming, functions are becoming few and far between. your brain just needs something else to latch onto.

that’s it.

you head down the porch steps with your bag in your hand, trying not to think about tomorrow night, where you know she'll be.

~

the frat looks... unrecognisably good (?) for once.

tinsel is wrapped from top to bottom around every single railing, pretty fake snow is sprayed all over the windows, inflatable candy canes are shoved into corners to hide the cracking dry wall.

definitely nanamis handy work.

mariah carey is bumping over the jbl's as people sing their hearts out to her music.

is christmas technically over ? maybe. but college kids don't give a fuck, its festive!

you’re sat up on one of those really high tables that overlook the lounge room and makeshift dance floor, with your stocking covers legs crossed over one another, and the heel of your shoe caught on the steel rung.

the fluffy santa dress you're rocking is very fitting, very much mean girls jingle bell rock coded. its short enough to be sexy yet fluffy enough to stay in the... post, christmas spirit. (if you don't celebrate christmas plz scrap all of this and say it's a regular party.)

now, you usually liked this table because it gave you such a good view of everything, but right now both your left, and right peripheral was obstructed by two hunks of meat. toji and sukuna, squished in on either side of you, talking obnoxiously loud about baseball. urgh. when did you ever give a fuck about baseball? go play a real sport.

“i’m telling you,” sukuna says, knocking his knee into the table leg, “my home runs were perfect last semester.”

toji snorts. “nah, you got lucky.”

“jealous ass. skill isn't luck.”

you hum noncommittally, they were talking at you, not with you, after all. occasionally you'd nod at the right moments, with your pretty eyes wondering and unfocused. you don’t care. not even a little.

how could you care about these idiots when your mind was focused on such a perfect thing.

shoko.

she was sitting on a far away couch on the other other side of the room, right infront of you.

you sat there staring straight at her with wide, intuitive eyes. head propped up on your palm like you were being caught day dreaming in class.

shes wearing that same black cami with jean shorts this time, and a very large santa hat sitting atop her beautiful head of hair. a cigarette licks smoke into the air from between her fingers. she'd been smoking every time you'd seen her, that had to be bad for her lungs...

you feel it again, that magnetic pull. that annoying, persistent urge to go talk to her, to finish that dumb conversation you'd wanted to have so bad.

it’s been a week and it hasn’t gone away.

“you listening?” toji asks, elbowing your side.

“yeah,” you lie. “totally.”

sukuna squints at you. “you’re staring.”

“am i not allowed?” you say, not breaking eye contact with the couch.

they follow your gaze.

oh.

toji snorts. “seriously?”

“what?” you ask, innocent.

“you’re looking at shoko,” sukuna says flatly.

“what do you guys know about her?.”

fuck it, if you could pick gojos brain about her then these two were next up.

he rolls his eyes. “dunno. i don’t fuck with those lesbian chicks.”

you blink. “good thing no one asked that.”

toji shrugs. “she’s cool. kind of a shame though.”

“a shame?" you echo.

“yeah,” he says. “she’s pretty. too bad she likes girls.”

your heart blips and you don’t know why. god. did everyone know this girl but you?

“does she have many friends?" you ask next.

sukuna thinks for a second. “not really. yuki and utahime hang around her sometimes."

toji nods. “she keeps to herself.”

“how does she even get invited?" you ask.

“her and shiu go way back, so.” sukuna explains.

you peer back at her as she silently smokes to herself.

“well,” you say, hopping down from the stool. “i’m gonna change that.”

both of them look kinda annoyed you're leaving so soon.

“where are you going?" toji asks.

“to talk,” you say, stepping away.

sukuna scoffs. “have fun.”

you weave through the dance floor, some more drunken people smash into you, hands brush your waist, someone yells your name. buy you ignore it all you're too focused on one thing.

you stop in front of the couch and take a deep breath, you can do this. then slide into the open space beside her.

shoko startles for a second, with her eyes fanning over to you. you want to cry at the was her brows furrow together.

“…oh,” she says. “you.”

“hi,” you say, a little breathless.

she looks you over, then smirks. “i thought your friends would’ve scared you off with all the dike allegations.”

the word hits so, so wrong..

your shoulders go all stiff and tense. “hey, don’t say that.”

she tilts her head. “hm?"

“that word,” you say quickly. "you're not... that. don't say such horrible words about yourself.”

her pretty face somehow get prettier with the way her eyes go all soft on you “yeah. fair.”

you swallow. “they didn’t scare me off. i just wanted to talk to you.”

“why,” she asks bluntly.

you panic. “because i think you’re cool. and i wanted to be… friendly.”

you almost say friends, but that feels like a little too much right now. i mean, you've only talked to her twice now, and the first one was nothing to write home about.

she looks over your fave for a minute then smiles and holds out her hand. “yeah? well, i’m shoko. nice to meet you. for the second time.”

your face ignores as you take her hand, her soft, delicate hand. wow, she felt like fluffy slime.

“i’m [name]. yeah. nice to meet you." you stop. "for the second time.” she laughs and lets go of your hand.

you desperately search for the next conversation starter and gesture at her head. “good effort.” you pause. “oh shit. that sounded rude.”

you slap a hand over your mouth. “i meant it’s cute. it looks cute!" good save.

she laughs again. “relax. its fine. not really a good effort anyways since it’s shiu's. i didn’t even wanna dress up.” yeah, that tracks. she glances down at you, eyes lingering. “your outfit’s cute tho, what is it... like, sexy mrs. claus?” you stutter. “th-thank you! and yeah, i guess that's what i was aiming for.”

she gives you that beautifully bored smirk and you suddenly forget ever social skill you'd ever learnt from being pretty and popular.

she seems to clock that and decides to save you. “so,” she starts soft. “are you here to hook up with any cute guys tonight?” she even tilts her head a little when she says it, clearly quoting you, asshole. affectionate though.

your brain immediately blue screens.

oh god. this is bad. this is really bad. normally, this question would be nothing. you’d laugh, or maybe deflect, or say something flirty and vague, maybe even name drop someone if you were feeling extra spicy. you’re good at this, hell, you’re built for this.

except right now you’re painfully aware of how you’re sitting. how your legs are crossed. how your hands are folded in your lap like you’re waiting for a fucking job interview. what if you say yes and she thinks you’re a slut?. what if you say no and she thinks you’re a boring loser. what if she thinks you’re lying! what if she thinks literally anything at all?!

your silence reeeeally stretches. shoko’s smile turns into empathetic confusion. "…hey,” she says. “are you okay? are you high or something?” oh my god. you choke on a laugh. “what? no. god. do i look high?”

“a little,” she says honestly.

your face feels hotter and hotter. “oh, wow. that’s not good.” she laughs, then reaches out. her fingers wrap around your hand. the contact sends your thoughts scattering even worse.

“seriously,” she says. “you’re acting like you’re about to bolt.” you swallow and then, for some reason, the truth just spills on out. “i’m usually really good at talking to people,” you blurt. “like, really good. and i’ve wanted to talk to you properly since the last time we spoke, but i just can’t seem to say the right thing around you and now i feel insane and weird and probably unlikable and i’m so sorry if this is uncomfortable for you i just-”

“hey,” she cuts in gently. your rambling grinds to a stop. she’s smiling, again. that damn smirk. “everything’s fine,” she says. “you’re not weird. and you’re definitely not unlikable.”

you blink at her. “really?”

“realy,” she echos. “i actually like that you came over.” something starts pumping harder in your chest so fast it almost makes you dizzy.

“i’d love to be friends,” she adds. “and we should totally talk more.”

oh! that heavy, awful pressure you didn’t even realise you were harbouring just disappears. poof. you let out a laugh that sounds like relief than anything. “thank gosh.”

she chuckles. “that bad, huh?”

“you have no idea,” you say, squeezing her hand once before realising you’re doing it and quickly letting go. “nthank you. seriously.” you start to open your mouth again, ready to actually talk this time, when a dumb mop of white hair in your peripheral vision catches your eye.

he's drunkly slurring your name as he stumbles towards you. gojo. he’s clearly off his face. like, aggressively so. sunglasses indoors drunk.

“y/n,” he calls, voice carrying way too far. “there you are!”

shit. you remember telling him you’d talk to him if you saw him. you also remember how badly you don’t want to leave this couch.

so, what more logically sound thing could you possibly do in a situation like this?

you grab shoko’s wrist and stand up. “come on.”

she laughs, surprised. “what? hey-"

you tug her after you, squeezing through the crowd again, your hearts racing but this time it feels exciting. behind you, gojo shouts something that sounds like “rude!” but he’s laughing too hard to understand.

by the time you push through the back door and onto the porch, you’re both giggling.

you collapse onto the outdoor couch, shoulders brushing one anotherw.

“wow,” shoko says, still smiling. “kidnapped.”

“he would not of left me alone,” you say. “i’m so sorry.”

“don’t be,” she says. “that was kind of fun.”

"right?" you smile.

she reaches into her pocket, then sighs. “shit. i lost my cigarette.”

you make a noise of sympathy. “tragic.”

she snorts and pulls out another, lighting it with her long, slender fingers. the flame pirouettes over her face for a second and you find yourself staring once again. big surprise. she catches you this time.

“so, do you smoke?” she asks.

“no,” you say quickly. “never.”

“yeah,” she says, amused. “i figured from last time. looked at me like i'd committed a crime.”

“oh shoosh.”

“hey, i'm just observant.” she takes a puff, then glances at you sideways. “you wanna try?” your heart jumps. “me?”

“yeah.” smirks. you shudder, but nod nonetheless. “o-okay. sure.” she laughs softly, then brings the cigarette to your lips instead of handing it over. her eyes stay on yours as you lean in, lips closing around the filter.

it feels so intimate. way more than it should.

you inhale. and you immediately regret it. you cough, bending forward, wheezing like your lungs are on fire. “oh my god! why- how do people do this-” shoko bursts out laughing and wraps an arm around your shoulders steadying you. “easy, easy.”

you finally catch your breath, face burning, and then you start laughing too. uncontrollable. embarrassed. alive.

“hmm,” she hums. “probably not for beginners.”

"oh wow, that was bad,” you wheeze.

“you're okay. i promise." you lean back against the couch with your shoulders still touching. shoko glances at you in the dark. her face adorns a soft and contemplative look. “you know,” she says, “i think you’re really cool.” you turn toward her, very surprised.

“mhm,” she continues. “i’m glad you still wanted to talk to me. even after whatever your friends probably said.”

your throat constricts a little. “they just don’t get you.” she smiles at that. “you’re probably the coolest person i’ve ever met, by the way. like ever,” you say, very open and earnest. “and i’ve met a lot of people.”

she laughs although it's adorably shy this time. “i’m glad.”

the half assed christmas lights pulse softly around you as the party hums on inside.

right now the moment feels so perfect. you don't think you've ever had this much fun at a party before, just sitting out the back with this mysterious girl you'd only really properly met tonight. it was likely boring to others, but you'd never felt so content than with her, talking all night about absolutely nothing yet everything, all at once.

~

11am, monday.

phone number? secured.

snapchat? pinned.

her instagram? holy shit. she was the nichest most amazing girl probably ever. you wanted to cry.

all her posts had that grainy digi cam look to them, taken in graffitied spots in the city or long abandoned stair ways. she was cool, but like, on an intergalactic level. you were scrolling her page for what felt like the millionth time in your social studies lecture when choso slides into the seat next to you.

"whatcha doing?"

you jump in surprise and slam your phone face down onto the table, causing the rest of the room to stare as you slap a hand over your mouth. "my bad guys..." a few people laugh before turning their attention back to the front.

"what, you got some guys dick pics on there? promise i'm not jealous." he smiles, snaking a hand around your shoulder.

you shiver at the contact. it's so much different to shokos, her arm was delicate and soft. it was warm and comforting in a way no meaty muscular bicep could ever be. you stand up in your seat and grab your lap top.

"sorry, cho. gotta go to the... to the bathroom! yeah, gotta pee. see yah." you wave at him and rush out of the hall down to the bathrooms. when the hell did you think about someone as much as you were shoko... not even your ex could occupy this much space in your running-a-mile-a-minute brain.

you don’t even realise you’ve slowed down until you hit the end of the hallway and nearly walk straight into them.

your friends. a whole cluster of them blocking the path like a poorly coordinated intervention.

“oh my god,” one of them says as soon as she sees you. “there you are.”

another chimes in. “okay but hello? you look hot today.” you laugh the fakest thing you can muster. "you too!" you'd hoped that'd be it. you could go freak out in the bathroom now. but, ofcourse not. "we missed you at the party,” someone else adds. “you disappeared. like, vanished.”

“yeah,” another chimes in. “we didn’t see you all night.” your stomach drops just a little. you already know where this is going.

you try to keep it light. “i was.. around.”

they exchange looks and their smiles turn slightly sour. a quieter girl at the back, someone you barely talk to, clears her throat. “i mean… i saw you.”

your eyes move to her. “yeah?”

she murmurs. “with shoko. out on the back patio.” there it is. the somewhat tame energy flips instantly.

one of them, a blonde girl, scoffs. “are you serious?”

“we literally warned you,” another says. “told you that was bad for you.”

“yeah,” someone laughs. “lowering yourself for some fucking dyke is crazy.”

that word.

“don’t say that,” you snap, way harsher than you mean to. they stare at you surprised. “what,” one says. “it’s true.”

“you’re better than that,” another adds. “we’re just looking out for you, fuck.”

“yeah,” someone else says. “don’t get dragged into that shit.” it’s one of you against ten of them. all you want to do it scream at them for being so insensitive and rude, but you can feel it. the way they close ranks without moving, the way their voices scoff from teasing to patronising.

your hands shake around your laptop strap.

“i’ve gotta go,” you say, forcing your voice. “i’m gonna be late.”

“don’t forget what we said,” someone calls after you. you give them a half hearted nod, wave once like you didn’t just get sucker punched emotionally, then turn and walk fast toward the bathrooms. once you’re inside, you push through the door and lean against the sink, staring at your reflection like it might explain something to you.

what the hell was that? you tell yourself you’re upset because they were rude. because anyone would be, right? because no one likes hearing someone they care about get talked about like that.

that’s it.

this weird tight feeling has nothing to do with shoko herself. obviously.

then, as you're half way through your crisis, the stall door creaks open behind you.

“rough day?”

you look behind you through the mirror.

and who other than yuki tsukumo steps out, washing her hands without a care in the world.

you plaster on your best smile and shake your head, the one that usually worked on anyone. you'd known yuki in passing but never personally, she was sort of just part of another group.

she laughs immediately. “nope. not that one.”

you drop it. “what?”

“you’re like, hardcore crashing out,” she says, drying her hands. “it’s very obvious.”

“yeah? well it’s none of your business.”

she grins. “what? guy trouble?”

you scoff. “no.”

“always no,” she says. “always lying.”

you roll your eyes and turn back to the mirror. “can you not.”

she leans against the counter beside you. “relax. i just said that because shoko said you were a little boy crazy.” you spin around, and like world vomit pouring out of your mouth really loudly, you boarder line scream. “shoko said that!?” you slap a hand over your mouth immediately.

yuki stares at you. “wow.”

“forget i said that,” you rush. “please.” she tilts her head. “why are you so jumpy.”

“i’m not.”

“oh you absolutely are.” you exhale, defeated. “just forget it.” she shrugs. “okay. but you brought her up.” you hesitate. “no, you did." you glare, then sigh like being mad wasn't worth it. "what else did she say about me?.." you ask quietly.

yuki’s brows lift. “oh?”

“just tell me,” you say quickly.

she hums, thinking. “she said you’re her new friend.”

“and that you’re a little ditzy,” yuki adds, quickly. your expression falls to that of a kicked puppy, one so sad even yuki feel a little bad, so she quickly recovers with, "she didn't mean it in a bad way! just that you were charming." you stare at the sink. “oh.”

yuki watches you with a smile. a big, teasing, horrid smile. then, she drops the million dollar question. "what? do you like her or something?”

your mouth counters before you can stop it.

“no,” you bark, stepping closer, getting up in her face. “and if you go around telling anyone that, i’ll fucking ruin you.”

yuki freezes and her eyes go wide. you instantly regret it.

“okay,” she says slowly. “wow.”

you grab your bag, heart racing, and bolt for the door. “forget this conversation.”

you don’t slow down until you’re back in the hallway with your head spinning.

what the hell was that?

you don’t yell at people, especially not people you barely know. you don’t threaten girls in bathrooms over hypothetical questions. this is not you.

all of this over one night. one conversation that turned into a few hours. one girl who sits quietly on couches and smokes too much. you grip the strap of your bag tighter.

friendship is not supposed to feel like this.

~

tuesday, 2pm.

shoko sits on the floor with her back against her couch, knees pulled in, and an ashtray balanced between her feet. her entire apartment smells like old incense and fresh smoke, which is a surprisingly pleasant smell. her windows cracked menough to let the fresh air leak in.

yuki is sunken into the couch behind her with one leg hanging over the arm and a cigarette between her fingers. she’s been quiet for a few minutes, which usually means she’s lining something up. shoko takes a drag and waits.

“so,” yuki says eventually. “you know that chick you were telling me about?”

shoko makes a vague noise, eyes on the smoke drifting toward the ceiling.

“the flashy one,” yuki adds. “your new little friend.” shoko doesn’t turn around but answers. “what about her?"

yuki laughs under her breath. “she went full berserk at me in the bathrooms yesterday.”

that gets shoko to look back. one eyebrow lifts. “berserk how?"

“like,” the blonde says, sitting up a little, “i make one joke and suddenly she’s in my face threatening my life.”

shoko sighs once. “you’re exaggerating.”

“i swear i’m not,” yuki says. “it was very intense.” shoko leans her head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. “what did you say to her.”

yuki scoffs. “nothing crazy. i asked if she was having guy trouble. she said no. i joked that you said she was boy crazy.”

shoko groans quietly. “yuki?.”

“what,” yuki says. “that’s what you said.”

shoko pinches the bridge of her nose. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“i know,” yuki says. “i thought it was harmless. but the second i mentioned your name she got all weird.”

shoko goes quiet, rolling that over. yuki watches her. “then, i made an off hand joke. asked her if she liked you or something, and she got really defensive. like, scary defensive.” shoko stubs out her cigarette and lights another. “she probably felt threatened .”

“threatened by what?"

“everything,” shoko says. “her whole life is different to ours.”

yuki tilts her head. “explain.”

shoko shrugs. “she lives in a loud world. everything’s about perception. who she’s seen with. what it looks like.”

“and you’re a some big gay display?,” yuki asks.

shoko snorts. “something like that.” yuki studies her more carefully. “so you think she freaked out because she thought i thought she liked you?" shoko nods. “yeah.”

“not because she actually does?”

shoko doesn’t answer immediately. she takes a drag then lets it out slowly. “she’s under a lot of pressure just being around me at all. i get that.”

yuki raises a brow with a smile. “you’re being very generous.”

“i’m being realistic,” shoko says. “still,” yuki says. “people don’t usually threaten me over misunderstandings.”

the brunette smiles faintly. “she’s just dramatic.”

“true,” yuki admits. “but dramatic doesn’t usually come with that much panic.”

shoko shrugs again. “she was probably stressed.”

yuki goes quiet, then asks, softer, “so you don’t think she liked you. not even a little?"

the quieter woman shakes her head. “no.”

“really?"

“really.”

yuki squints. “even if she was gay?"

“she’s not,” shoko says easily. “and even if she was, i’m not her type.”

yuki laughs. “what’s that supposed to mean.”

“look at her,” shoko says. “then look at me.”

“i am looking at you.”

“exactly.”

yuki shakes her head, she's obviously unconvinced. “i don’t know. she was pretty goo goo eyes at that christmas party."

shoko stiffens slightly. “fuck, you saw that?." she sighs. "she doesn’t look at me any way.”

“she does,” yuki says. “like she’s trying to solve a math problem she really hates.” shoko huffs. “that means nothing.”

“sure.” silence settles between them, broken by a car horn outside. shoko flicks ash into the tray, movements slow. yuki shifts on the couch. “can i ask you something.”

shoko already knows. “you’re going to anyway.” yuki smiles. “do you like her?"

hm.

the question sits there as shokos lips stay sealed. she's not silently confessing but it doesn't seem like she's outright ruling it out either. yuki waits. “shoko.”

she stares at the wall. a crack runs from the corner down toward the baseboard, something she’s been meaning to fix.

“that wasn’t the question,” yuki says gently.

shoko closes her eyes for a second, then opens them. “i don’t know.”

yuki lets out a breath. “that’s not a no.”

shoko doesn’t argue. “you said she wasn’t your type,” yuki presses.

shoko shrugs. “no. i said she wouldn’t like someone like me. that’s different.” yuki glances back at her. “is it? you’re in trouble,”

shoko scoffs. “don’t start.”

“i’m serious,” yuki says. “this is how it starts.”

“nothing is starting.”

“sure.” shoko disregards the conversation and pulls her attention back to the window. behind her, yuki lights another cigarette and lets the conversation drop.

for now.

~

from then on, a day or two pass by of you avoiding your friends in the hallways, and dogging them at functions.

you were now snuggled up in your apartment, you’re curled on your side in bed, wrapped in stupidly pretty pajamas that cost too much for something you only wear to sleep. hair fanned out on the pillow. lashes resting against your cheeks.

you look peaceful, you are not.

your subconscious brain fills your mind with a dream that feels like it'll be nice, calm, but that escalates very quickly.

you're sitting on a couch, is it yours? you can't tell. what you can tell is, shoko's sitting right next to you, with one of her legs thrown across your lap and her hand's digging into your hair. her voice is seductive and so, so close to your ear.

"i know you want me, y/n."

her hand slides up your thigh.

"just let me take control."

jesus this feels wrong and right all at the same time. she smiles, then kisses you. so deep it alludes every sense you have.

the dreams blurs and morphs together, one second she's between your thighs making work of your clit with her tongue, flicking back and forth over the bud as she stares you dead in the eye.

next she's got ghat same tongue down your throat as her fingers work you from the inside, pulling the sweetest noises from your mouth.

you're gasping, moaning, whining under her expert touch, everything feels like pure bliss, pure uninterrupted bliss.

she's pinching at your breasts, running her lips over the nipples kissing them softly.

your own hands start to wonder, hesitantly cupping her own, playing with the plush flesh that seemed to up your horny stat by a million. just as you're about to be bold, to finally let yourself go and touch her where you know she wants it, you wake up all at once.

you gasp and sit up straight like you'd been possessed, huffing and puffing as your sweat slick body heaves.

oh my god.

your body is still reacting and you hate that. hate how real it felt. you hate how easily your brain went there.

with her.

“fuck,” you whisper.

you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand up, pacing once, twice, maybe movement will make it all better. you grab your phone off the nightstand with shaky fingers and don’t even think before you hit maki’s name.

she answers on the third ring, her harsh voice coiled with sleep. “you better be fucking dying.”

“i need you,” you say. there’s a pause. then fabric rustling. “okay. that’s not normal. what happened.” you fall down onto the edge of your bed, elbows on your knees. “i just woke up from the worst dream of my life.”

“worst like scary or worst like you’re being dramatic.”

“worst like i might not be straight anymore.”

that wakes her up.

“…oh,” maki says. “okay. yeah. i’m sitting up.” you laugh weakly. “great.”

maki has always been the one girl you feel like you can turn to. she's your friend who's not like those other girls, she's funny as hell, knows how to read a room, and most importantly, not judgey.

your real best friend.

“start talking,” she says. “slowly, though.”

so you do. you tell her about that first night you met shoko and how badly you wanted to be her friend after that, how much worse it got when you saw her for the second time.

you spew on and on about the hours long conversation you had with her about school, life, friends, all on the patio of that dumb frat.

you tell her about yuki and about the bathroom, about how she mentioned you liking shoko and you losing your temper so bad it made your hair stand on end just thinking about it.

still have to apologise for that...

“that tracks,” maki mutters. “you hate not being in control.” you wince. “okay, just clock me i guess.”

you tell her that you thought you just wanted to be her... best friend? well, you were friends now and you still yearned for more, so that had to be it. right?

“and now,” you say quietly, “i just had a wet dream about this girl. what the fuck?.”

maki laughs then asks, “are we talking full on?” you groan and flop back onto the bed. “sopping wet. i hate myself.”

she laughs again, not mean. “wow. okay.”

“don’t laugh.”

“i’m laughing because this is huge for you,” she says. “and also because you sound like you’re about to combust.”

you stare up at the ceiling. “i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i don’t even think i like girls.”

“mm,” maki hums. “yet you just had your subconscious write a fanfiction on some yuri shit.”

“can you die?.”

she ignores that. “listen. you don’t have to slap a label on this. you don’t have to announce anything. you met one girl who made your brain go a little crazy, that's it."

“that’s not normal.”

“it is if you’re discovering yourself,” she says. “late bloomer kinda thing. very chic.”

you rub your face with both hands. “but i’m not gay.” maki doesn’t miss a beat. “everyone’s a little gay.”

you snort despite yourself. “that’s not helpful.”

“it is actually,” she says. “because it means you’re not some weirdo. you’re just human.”

you roll onto your side, clutching a pillow to your chest. “i’m scared i’m gonna mess this up. i don’t want to make her uncomfortable. or make myself look like a poser trying to covertly bully her, she's told me she gets picked on a lot.”

“you already look like a poser,” maki says. “affectionately. just means you're a pretty fem.” you smile. “what, so girly girls can't be gay?.”

“i thought you weren't gay?,” you're real quiet at that. she continues. “look, from what you’ve told me, she likes you. at least as a person. you’re not imagining that.”

“but what if i am.”

“then nothing happens,” maki says. “and you survive. but if you freak out and overthink and self sabotage, you’re gonna regret that way more.”

you sigh. “so what do i do?"

“don’t be weird,” she says simply.

“…that’s it?"

“be yourself,” maki adds. “the version of you she already likes. let it play out. if it stays friends, cool. if it turns into something else, also cool.”

you stare at your ceiling again, at least your chest felt a lil lighter than it did five minutes ago.

“you’re so annoyingly right,” you say.

“i know,” she replies. “it’s my thing.”

you glance at the clock. too early and too late. “thank you for answering.”

“always,” maki says. “text me if you crash out again.”

“i will.”

you hang up and set your phone back on the nightstand. the room is quiet again. your body is finally calming down. the dream keeps poking through at the edges of your brain, but you sweep them off.

you curl back under the covers, staring at the dark.

don’t be weird.

easy for maki to say.

you close your eyes anyway, shoko’s smile flashing behind them, and let the night settle around you.

~

having that conversation about your feelings had really put things into a somewhat comfortable perspective. you were confused, that's all. very confused.

pretending you didn't have a sex dream about your new friend was surprisingly easy. it was around a week or two later and you'd successfully made sneaking off with shoko upstairs under the excuse of, 'accompanying her while she destroys her lungs.' a very regular thing.

you'd been to around three functions from that very messy crash in the bathrooms and the dream. and to be honest, you'd never been happier just existing with one person at a place meant for mingling with tens or hundreds others.

you'd both sit on either shiu's or geto's bed with the window open as she smoked two or three cigarettes. you'd talk, and she'd listen to everything you had to say, and visa versa. you'd learnt that she's a med student, she loves the smiths and mazzy star, and that her favourite time of day was dusk.

she was hands down the nicest girl you'd ever met, just so calm and down to earth.

although, the topic of sexuality was something the two of you really never touched on. it was like an electric topic you were staying away from. you didn't know if she was doing that so you felt comfortable and shoko didn't know if you were doing that because you felt uncomfortable, either way, the both of you looked silly dancing around it. tonight was no different, you'd both scurried upstairs away from the horny men and judgey women, crashing getos room and slipping onto his bed.

"god, didn't think we'd make it out of there. ino and gojo were really talking your ear off, huh?" shoko teases, leaning back onto the wall with her legs splayed out on the mattress. you laugh, sipping at the vodka cruiser in your hand as you fall back on geto's pillow.

"yeah well, gojos always talky. even in bed."

you watch as her eye brow twitches.

it's almost nothing, but you catch it.

shit.

eyes that were usually fluttering around carelessly were now pin pointed on you. scary.

“always?” she asks, voice even. you swallow around your sip. “i mean. i guess.”

she nods.

“so,” she says, casual again. “do you sleep with him regularly, or was that like.. a one night thing?"

oh.

now you were nervously peeling at the sticker on your bottle like a kid and biting the inside of your cheek. you don’t want her to think badly of you. you’ve never cared what people thought about this before. never once felt the need to explain yourself.

lying feels worse though, lying to her feels so wrong.

“yeah,” you say slowly. “i mean. yeah. sometimes. we hook up from time to time.” you risk a glance at her face. and its it’s subtle. so subtle you almost miss it. it's the way her mouth drops for half a second and her eyes dip down, then away.

something in your chest drops.

fuck.

you rush to fill the silence. “it’s not like. serious or anything. just fun. you know how it is.” you laugh nervous and she nods once. “yeah.”

you hate how flat it sounds. your brain scrambles, desperate to smooth it over, to level the ground between you again. “what about you?” you blurt. “so.. are you involved with anyone ? with any… girls?”

holy fuck. god, strike me down.

you clap a hand over your mouth. “oh my god. i’m so sorry. that came out so wrong. i didn’t mean it like that at all. i just meant like. romantically. or casually. or whatever. i swear i’m not trying to be weird or ignorant or gross. i just don’t always know how to ask things and i panic and then my mouth just keeps going and that sounds so ignorant i-”

“hey.” shoko’s delicate finger presses its pad gently against your lips, hushing you.

“don’t worry,” she says softly. “i know you didn’t mean it like that.”

your shoulders drop. as she lowers her hand and you definitely internally mourn the loss.

she smiles. “last girl i hooked up with was a couple months ago.”

“oh.”

“i’ve been taking a break.”

you nod. “that’s. cool.”

she studies you. “you don’t have to sound relieved."

you laugh nervously. “i’m not. i’m just. glad you told me.”

her pretty eyes soften as she looks you up and down, ever so slowly, and blurts out, "i’d tell you anything.”

the way she said that...

“hmm?,” you mumble. “i might take you up on that.” she sighs a laugh. “i’m serious.” you turn back. “yeah?”

“yeah.” everything's radiating that nice feeling

you get when you're with someone you really admire, every way you look the room seems to fit this vibe perfectly.

just you, and her.

you and this beautiful woman you'd been dreaming of, talking to guys about post hookup, calling maki over for the past week freaking out if you're secretly in some queer coming of age movie reincarnate.

just you, and her.

shoko shifts closer and her thigh brushes yours. not accidental. definitely not accidental.

“can i ask you something?,” she says. you nod way too fast. “yes.”

she tilts her head. “do you like... only swing one way?" your brain shuts off. your mouth opens. closes. opens again.

“i,” you start, then laugh nervously. “i think so. i mean. i’ve always thought so. i’ve only ever been with guys. and i’ve never really questioned it until recently. which is probably normal. or not? i don’t know. college makes everyone question everything. and i still like men. obviously. i’m not saying i don’t. but lately, ever since ive met you, i’ve been feeling weird. not bad weird. just different weird. and i don’t know if that means anything or if i’m just overthinking because i can't figure this out or-"

shoko’s hand cups your cheek and your voice cuts out.

her thumb moves slowly, smoothing down along your jaw like she’s pulling you back down to earth again. her deep brown eyes don’t leave yours for a second.

“you don’t have to explain,” she says. “i get it.”

you swallow. “you do?." she nods. “yeah.” your heart feels like it’s trying to climb out of your chest. you don’t pull away. you don’t lean in either. you’re suspended in this strange, terrifying middle space.

“want me to help you figure it out?" she asks. your breath leaves you in one long huff. “yes... please.”

when did your dreams become reality? (literally)

shoko doesn’t hesitate. she leans in and presses her soft lips to yours.

it’s so delicate you almost assume she's not even kissing you. it's so astronomically different to the rough, deep kisses you're used to from the men you see. she feels so much warmer. your eyes stay open for a moment, stunned. her face is so close. those cute freckles, her long lashes, the smell of smoke and mint.

then you close them, deciding to not look like a freak virgin and actually contribute.

your hand slips gently around her waist, she responds by pulling you closer, her other hand settling at your hip. the kiss deepens, and your head spins. this feels so different! you've thought it a thousand times in a second but it's just so otherworldly. it's not hurried and pushy, no. it's sweet and simple.

your thoughts race. you think about guys like gojo’s hands. the way he grabs. the way everything with men feels like a performance you know by heart, god, this is nothing like that.

this is quiet. this is terrifyingly peaceful.

shoko leans in more, her forehead brushing yours, lips still moving against yours in a lovely serenade. your grip tightens on her shirt, you want more and less at the same time.

you start to overthink.

your mind floods with questions, with fear, with guilt, with excitement.

with panic.

it’s too much.

this is too much.

or is it? you can't think straight! (haha, get it.)

you pull back suddenly, hands pushing against her shoulders.

“stop."

shoko stops instantly. no frustration and no confusion. just concern.

“hey,” she says. “what’s wrong?"

you shake your head, “i can’t. i mean, i want to. i just- i don’t know what this means.”

she nods slowly. “okay.”

you sit there, chest tight, heart racing, staring at her like she might disappear if you look away.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. shoko doesn’t look hurt, just thoughtful. “it’s okay,” she says. “we can stop.” you nod, still spinning. “yeah.”

the space that was non existent just a few seconds ago now felt like hundred miles long.

.

before the moment can marinate any longer, geto, like some drunk super hero, comes bashing into the room with a pretty girl you swore gojo was dating just a few months ago when he ghosted you for a while. did he cheat on her? was that the story? wow, geto was a show off.

"get out."

wow, real classy.

you see the girl knock him in the side as to say 'cut it out,' and you and shoko share a fleeting glance before scurrying off.

when you hear the door shut down the hallway, you slow down. shokos infront and she turns to you, the lighting dark and you can barely see her eyes, but you can tell she's got that questioning look.

it was making your stomach flutter and churn with nervous nausea at the same time.

"look, y/n, i just want to let you know that this is normal for a girl like you, okay? you just-"

"i'm not gay." you spit. it's so much colder than you mean, but your brain is in fight mode. you're a little drunk, confused. not a good mix.

"hm?"

"i'm not gay. and you helped me figure that out." you tell her, even though you know that's a lie. you just don’t know how to put your feelings into perspective.

"i see."

"look i just-"

"no, i get it. don't worry, kay?" she cuts you off, with that calm smile. "we can talk more outside, yeah?"

"yes... please."

.

it’s awkward. not necessarily bad awkward. just new. the kind that makes you hyperaware of where your hands are. how loud your breathing sounds. the fact that you said something you can’t take back.

shoko breaks it first.

“hey,” she says gently. “i’m not offended.”

you peer at her with guilt stricken eyes, “you’re not?” you ask.

she shakes her head. “no. not at all.”

you let out a small laugh that doesn’t quite land. “i'm still so sorry... i kind of snapped.”

“you were overwhelmed,” she says. “that happens.”

you rub your thumb along the hem of your top. “the truth is, i don't know what i am. it just felt like everything was happening at once and i didn’t know what to do with it.”

she nods. “that’s normal. especially for girls who haven’t had that kind of intimacy with another girl before.”

you glance at her. “you really think so?"

“yeah,” she says easily. “i’ve seen it before. i’ve felt it before.” that makes you pause, perhaps with either sorrow or jealousy, your brain is too scattered to hone in on which one.

“i’m not trying to freak out,” you say. “my head just feels like a mess right now. i want to talk about it. i just don’t know how.”

shoko turns her body toward you a little.

“you can tell me anything,” she says.

there it is again. that sincerity that makes you feel like you've known her for years.

breathing in deeply, you muster up a response.

“okay,” you say. “so. at first. when i met you. i just really wanted to be your friend.”

she smiles faintly. “that tracks.”

you huff. “yeah. it was like this overwhelming urge to be near you. to talk to you. to understand you. i’ve never had that with someone i hadn't even spoken to yet.”

she listens and doesn’t interrupt.

“and i kept telling myself that was it,” you continue. “that i just admired you. thought you were cool. wanted you in my life. i didn’t question it.” you swallow. “but then,” you say quietly, “that feeling sort of changed. or maybe it didn’t change?. maybe it was always more than i thought and i just didn’t have the language for it.” you sigh “i don’t know when wanting to be your friend turned into wanting to understand you on a deeper level,” you say. “or if it was ever just friendship at all.”

you laugh under your breath. “i’ve never experienced this before. not like this. with guys it’s so easy. this feels like i'm tryna read a book in a language i don’t know.” she nods slowly. “that makes sense.”

“my 'friends' don’t help,” you add. “they made jokes, they'd call you horrible names. they turned me wanting to hang out with you into some ugly thing.”

her mouth tightens for a second. not angry, but protective. "i don't want to be their friend anymore. i don't care about close minded losers like that."

she smiles before replying. “you’re completely valid in thinking all of that,” shoko says. “none of it makes you stupid or naive or wrong.”

your shoulders ease up without you even realising they were tense.

“thank you,” you murmur.

“... i want you to know something too.”

you look at her. your stomach flips but you ignore it.

“i value you,” she says. “as a friend. genuinely. and i’m going to try my best to support you through this. thick and thin. no matter what you decide.” your throat tightens. “even if i decide i can’t handle this?"

“especially then,” she says. “but i also want to be honest with you.” you brace yourself.“i’ve had a abit of a thing for you.. ever since the night we locked eyes at that party,” she admits. “i tried to keep it light. give you space. follow your lead.”

you blink. “you have.”

she smiles softly. “yeah.”

“i’m not asking you for anything,” shoko continues. “if you want to stay friends, we stay friends. if you want space, i get it. if you want to stop talking to me, i’ll respect that too.” your chest hurts.

“and if,” she adds carefully, “you want to try and see where things go, i’d be more than happy to take it slow. guide you through it. at your pace.” you stare at her. this woman who somehow makes room for every version of you without asking you to be anything smaller.

“i don’t deserve how kind you’re being,” you say. she laughs quietly. “i’d do anything to make you feel as comfortable as you’ve made me feel.” the concept of you making her feel comfortable really improved your mood.

you feel like you have to show her how grateful you are for her maturity in all of this, and your appreciation for her ability to take this so well. you move closer and gently wrap your arms around her shoulders, giving her room to pull off if she wanted to.

she gets choked up for a second, but then relaxes into it with her arms coming around you with the same care. her chin rests lightly near your shoulder.

its soft and feminine in the sweetest way.

you pull back after a moment, smiling despite yourself. “thank you.”

she squeezes your hand once before letting go. you feel so much better after this.

“so,” you say, clearing your throat. “um. would you maybe want to come over to my place this weekend? maybe watch a movie.”

her answer is so quick. “yes,” shoko says, smiling wide and egar.

you grin back. “cool.”

really cool.

~

your apartment looks stupidly nice and you hate that you care this much about this dat- hang out...

the lights are warm but not too warm. the couch cushions are lined up again after you sat on them twice and fluffed them for no reason. the coffee table is clear except for the bowl of chips you definitely did not need to put in an actual bowl. you glance at the clock for the fifth time.

still ten minutes.

your phone is pressed between your shoulder and ear while you tug at a throw blanket until it looks straight, and maki’s voice crackles through the speaker.

“okay so what’s the plan?” she asks. “walk me through it.”

“there is no plan,” you say. “that’s the point. i’m just going to be normal.”

maki snorts. “you? normal?”

“rude,” you mutter. “i mean it. we’re watching a movie, maybe talking, maybe drinking a bit. nothing crazy, just chilling out like friends do.”

“friends who want to kiss,” maki adds.

you roll your eyes. “stop.”

“i’m serious,” she says. “are you gonna ask if she’s std free if you guys fuck?”

you choke. “i’m not doing that!"

“why notttt?” maki says. “it’s good to be safe.”

“we are not fucking,” you hiss, glancing toward the door like it might hear you. “this is just a hangout.”

“everyone says that before they fuck,” maki says. “i’m just saying.”

“please don’t say fuck again,” you say. “i’m already on edge. i don't know how to do it with a chick anyway...”

"i'm sure she could teach you."

"shut up!"

maki's laugh cackles in your ear for a while before she sighs and calms. “you like her.”

you sigh, you know she's right but,

“i’m just going to see how things go,” you say. “i’m not making it weird.”

“you already made it weird,” maki replies gently. “but that’s okay. that’s how figuring things out works.” you smile despite yourself. “you’re annoying.”

“i know,” she says. “text me if she kisses youuu!.”

“i’m hanging up.”

“ask if she's clean!,” maki sings.

you end the call mid word and toss your phone onto the couch, cheeks pink.

you take a breath. steady. you glance at the door again.

a knock sounds.

you jump.

“shit,” you mutter. “she’s early.”

you smooth your top over, pulling at the fabric so your cleavage looks good, then cross the room. your hand is already on the knob when you pull the door open with a pretty smile ready for her.

but it drops immediately.

because it’s not shoko.

gojo stands there instead, leaning in like it's his own place. his hair is messy in that on purposeful way. his eyes are drowsy. his cheeks are pink like he’s been drinking or thinking about you, or both.

definitely both.

“hey,” he says softly. “there you are.”

“gojo,” you say, flat. “what are you doing here?"

he steps inside without waiting, his fingers wrap around your wrist gently. “I needed you,” he says, voice low. “i’ve been thinking about you all day.” he leans in and kisses you before you can stop him. it’s familiar, sure, it's nice and his mouth knows where to go, but you're all but over this.

you pull away.

“stop,” you say. “now is a really, really bad time.”

he stares at you, bewildered from the alcohol. “what?"

“shoko is coming over,” you say. “you can’t be here.” his brows knit together. “then cancel?”

“no,” you say. “gojo. you need to leave.” he laughs like you’re joking. “why would you cancel me for her?.."

“because i made plans,” you say. “with her.”

“yeah,” he says. “and i need you.” you shake your head. “that’s not how this works.”

he steps closer again, confused. “we’ve been doing this for three years. we're friends, good friends."

“I know,” you say. “that doesn’t mean you get to show up whenever you want.”

he looks genuinely lost now. “are you mad at me?."

“oh my god, no,” you say. “i just- i need you to go.”

“why are you picking some girl you just met over me?,” he asks. “over us.”

“there is no us,” you say, sharper than you mean. his mouth gets pouty. “wow.” you exhale. “gojo. please.” he scoffs. “she doesn’t need you like i do.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you say.

he reaches for you again and you step back.

you're about to drop the bomb, about to tell him that 'i think i have a crush on her and this hangout is going to determine my mood for the rest of the week, so can you fuck off?'

but you're cut of by the door that opens behind him.

shoko, in all her beauty, stands there with a puzzled look on her face.

“oh,” she says. “sorry. i uhm.. i didn’t realise you had another guest.” your heart drops.

“no,” you say quickly. “it’s not like that. he was just leaving.”

in shokos head, she's distraught. why would you have some guy you were sleeping with over at your place when you and her were supposed to be hanging out? especially after she was so excited for it... she felt a little sad.

she tries to push it down and announces, "that’s fine. i can come back another time.”

“no,” you say. “shoko please stay.” but gojo talks over you. “thanks sho, catch up later yeah?.”

shoko hesitates, then gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her deep brown eyes. “text me.”

then she leaves.

the door closes, and the silence is loud. you turn on gojo slowly, heat and anger flooding your face.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you snap.

he frowns. “what did i do?"

“you just ruined everything!" you worry. “get out.”

“you’re overreacting,” he says. “she’s just some girl.”

“she’s not just some girl! she's all i can think about lately and i was so excited to see her today!” you say. “and you don’t get to decide who matters to me, i think i really like her!" the second the words leave your mouth, the room goes still.

gojo just stares at you, blinking like his brain short circuits halfway through processing it.

“you like,” he repeats, slower. “… her.”

you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath. “i don’t know if it’s love-like. but it feels big. bigger than anything i’ve felt before. and tonight was supposed to be a break from the fuck ups in our track history. we were supposed to just watch a movie and talk and not freak out and now it’s all fucked because you walked in like this was still some open door situation.”

gojo stays quiet because yikes, he messed up.

you keep going because stopping feels so impossible right now.

“everything with you has always been easy,” you say. “easy and fun and predictable. and with her.. i don’t know anything, and that’s scary and exciting and i hate that i care this much but i do.” gojo rubs the back of his neck. “i didn’t know.”

“I know,” you sigh, then soften immediately. “i know you didn’t. but you don’t get to act like she’s nothing just because she’s new.”

he winces. “yeah. that was shitty.”

you drag a hand down your face. “i just wanted tonight to go right."

he rubs his neck bashfully and steps towards you slowly, he pulls you into a hug before you can talk yourself out of it.

“I’m sorry,” he says into your hair. “i really am. i don’t know much about… any of this. but i didn’t mean to mess things up for you.”

your throat tightens. “i know.. i know.”

"i'm sorry,” he says quietly. “i won’t again.”

you look up at him and he looks genuinely gutted on your behalf.

“i’ll stop,” he says. “no more showing up. no more trying to get with you, hell, i'll even tell the other guys to lay off if you want. if you think you found something good, i’m not gonna touch it.” your whole face is wiped of the stern expression you wore, replaced with one of appreciation. “thank you.”

he nods, then forces a small smile. “you should go after her.”

you nod, then grab your jacket, shove past him, and bolt out the door.

then, like some really bad angsty romace movie, it starts pouring down with soaking rain.

your hair sticks to your face. your shoes soak through, and your heart feels like it’s trying to outrun you. you scan the street, breath coming fast, panic creeping in.

then you see her down the block with her hood up, standing near the bus stop about to hop on the cory express. she’s halfway up the step when you shout her name.

“shoko!”

she turns just as you reach her, your hand catching her arm before she can get on.

“wait,” you gasp. “please.”

she lets you pull her back down onto the sidewalk. the rain darkens her shirt, and her expression's conflicted, her hurt shining through no matter how hard she tries to hide it.

“you didn’t have to do this,” she says.

“no... i did,” you huff. “i really did.” she looks away. “but it’s fine. i get it.”

“no,” you say, shaking your head. “you don’t. and i don’t want you filling in blanks that aren’t real.”

she watches you carefully now. “okay?.."

“gojo didn’t know,” you say. “about us. about tonight meaning something to me. he thought he could just show up like always, and that’s on me for not shutting it down sooner.”

she sighs. “you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“i owe you honesty,” you say. “especially after the other night.”

her shoulders drop a little. “... i was excited to see you.” she admits, hugging her body.

oh wow.. your heart drops. “me too.”

rain dripples down your nose and forehead, you're awe struck at the way droplets fall into her lashes and catch on the ends.

“I didn’t want you thinking i chose him,” you say. “because i didn’t. i would have chosen you. every time.” her eyes soften. “i believe you.” you laugh weakly. “thank god.” she steps closer and wraps her arms around you. you hug her back without thinking, rain soaking both of you.

“shit, it’s freezing,” she laughs with melancholy. you huff a laugh. “come back to my place. please.” she nods. “duh. i just missed my bus cuz of you.”

you laugh, embarrassed, and pull her up the pathway, and by the time you get back, you’re both dripping wet. gojo’s mercedes is gone, and relief floods over you. thank fuck.

you step inside and the chill from the air con made both of you shiver. you smile guide her gently toward the bathroom. “you should have a shower. now. before you freeze and die.” she laughs at you as you wish off to grab her a towel and some clothes.

as you shut the door you try your best to not think about her being naked in your bathroom, occupying yourself with whatever you can. you change into comfy, drier clothes, dry your hair, hands still a little shaky.

just as you finish up she comes out dressed in your clothes, with her hair damn and her cheeks flushed pink.

you both pause, then laugh at the same time.

“you look good,” you say, smiling.

“you too,” she replies.

you point to the couch. “c'mon, pick a movie. i’ll order food.”

she settles in, scrolling, glancing at you from under her lashes. you catch her looking at your short pyjama shorts but you pretend not to notice how her cheeks flush a darker colour, and she pretends you didn’t catch her.

“i can’t choose,” she says eventually.

“that’s fine,” you say, sitting down. “we can just talk.” she smiles and scoots closer, turning to face you fully, you set your phone down.

“hi,” she says.

“hi,” you echo, laughing softly.

you’re both so goo goo eyed it’s embarrassing.

rain taps faintly against the window, but you barely register it. all you can really focus on is how close she is, how her knee keeps brushing your thigh every time she moves around, like she’s checking if you’ll pull away.. you, ofcourse, don’t.

shoko glances down, then back up at you. “i was a little sad earlier,” she admits.

your stomach tightens. “about gojo?”

she nods. “yeah. not because of him, really. just because i didn’t know where i stood.”

you swallow. “i hated that you saw that.”

“i know,” she says. “but i’m glad you ran after me.”

“i needed you to know i wasn’t choosing him.” she takes a once over of your face. “and?”

“and i’m not involved with anyone anymore,” you say. “not him. not anyone. except…” you trail off, then look at her. “except you. if you want.” her lips curve into a slow smile. “i do.”

it’s such a simple answer it almost knocks you flat. “i’m only interested in you too,” she adds, like she’s letting you in on a secret.

something loosens in your chest. you laugh, a quiet little sound. “that makes me feel insane amounts of better.”

“good,” she says. “that was the goal.”

you both smile, and then there’s this weird feeling of change, the way you're looking at her and visa versa is like neither of you is pretending this is just friendly anymore.

your eyes fall, against your will, down to the shirt you gave her, it's low cut and shows off her cleavage on the most beautiful way. you definitely chose that shirt on purpose, consciously or subconsciously was the real question.

your eyes flick down one more and you immediately regret it, already bracing for embarrassment because she notices.

and instead of calling you out, she adjusts the shirt, pulling it down, leaning back just enough to make it worse.

there goes the innocent act you were tryna uphold. she catches your reaction and smiles, amused. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you say quickly. “totally. fine.”

she hums. “you’re staring.”

you clear your throat because you were really hoping she wouldn't say anything, then, bashfully you counter with, “you are too.”

she doesn’t deny it. her eyes drop down to your shorts, the way your legs fold under you. “they’re very short.”

“i know,” you say, then wince. “i mean- i didn’t think about it like that, that wasn't like the plan or anything i-”

“mm,” she says. “sure.” she shifts closer. now your knees are touching fully, not just brushing. you take a breath. “can i ask you something?” she nods. “anything.”

oh god what were you doing?

your courage spikes and you spew what had been on your mind for the past twenty minutes. “do you wanna... try that kiss again?” wow, so much for being normal tonight.

her smile turns softer, warmer. “i thought you’d never ask.” she leans in this time without hesitating. your lips meet hers gently, and you’re more present now, less caught in your head. you kiss her slowly, deliberately, like you’re learning her technique. she responds quickly with her hand sliding to your waist, only, as she pulls herself closer to you you can't help the whine that falls from your lips as her tits press firmly against yours, moulding together so she can slip her tongue inside.

they feel so plush, so warm against your chest. like some psychic, she grabs one of your hands and places it against her right boob, letting you explore.

you're breathing heavy at the overwhelming appeal dripping from this exchange, squeezing gently making her gasp into your mouth.

she pulls back for just a second, looking you with lust in her caramel eyes. “can i go a little further?” you nod so fast it’s pathetic. “please.” she smiles and kisses you again, this time with more passion. she's not shy with where she's grabbing, her hands finding your butt and squeezing with a satisfied hum.

hm, so she was an ass girl. good to know.

she then lifts herself up and slips easily into your lap, sitting down on your bare thighs.

"is this okay, baby?" wow you almost moan at the name. from a man's mouth that pet name felt cringe, from hers? you think you cold listen to her say it a million times over.

"this is more than okay." you smile, and she gives you an open mouth kiss in appreciation. she takes your hand and presses it gently against her chest again, your breath stutters and you squeeze lightly. she makes this quiet whine that goes straight to your clit.

you moan softly into the kiss, startled by yourself. her hand mirrors yours, resting over your chest, squeezing just enough to make you melt into her. she’s in control, but she’s watching you closely, checking in without words. it makes you feel safe and secure in a way no man has ever done.

when the kiss finally breaks, you’re both lost for breath and touching foreheads, “wow.”

she smiles against your skin. “yeah.”

just as you're about to go at it after catching your breath, the door bell rings.

"fuck, that's the food..." you mumble. and she laughs as you push off the couch and towards the door. while you're gone, she's trying desperately to fix herself up and hide the mess between her legs, sitting on her knees so you couldn't see the dampness she's sure is there.

she's praying to god she didn't leave anything on your clothes as well..

.

the rest of the night eases into something soft without trying to be. food shows up, it's warm and fragrant, and you eat cross legged on the couch with mean girls playing in the background.

shoko cheekily smiles while stealing your fries and you laugh and take sips of her drink in return. the normalcy of it all feels unreal after how intense everything was an hour ago. you both have a few drinks you'd kept in your fridge, nothing hangover worthy but just enough to slow your brain down.

by now she seems more comfortable as she leans her head against your shoulder and leans into you when she laughs, you grin like a school girl and go with the flow.

halfway through the movie you realise you’re not paying any attention. you’re more focused on the way her fingers are scratching lightly up and down on your thigh, every now and then she glances up at you to gauge your reaction.

you smile and kiss your teeth in reply.

when the credits finally roll, it’s really late. the rain has softened to a quiet patter outside, the city sounding distant and tired.

you clear your throat. “hey.” she hums, looking at you. “yeah?”

“do you wanna… stay the night?” it comes out cautious, like you’re bracing for rejection even though everything in her body language says otherwise. she smiles quickly. “i was hoping you’d ask.”

relief hits you so hard you almost laugh. “okay sweet!” you hop up too fast, nerves kicking back in. “you can take my bed. i’ll grab blankets for the couch.”

she blinks at you. “why?”

“because i invited you over,” you say. “and because i don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” she watches you for a second, then shakes her head. “that won’t be necessary.” you pause. “hmm?”

“just sleep in the bed with me,” she says simply. “if that’s okay.”

your face heats instantly. “oh. i mean. yeah. i just thought-” she steps closer and takes your hand before you can wack out. “we don’t have to do anything. i promise.”

you nod, embarrassed. “i wasn’t assuming.”

she smiles, gentle. “i know. i just want you to feel safe.” that word again. safe, she felt like it's definition at this point.

you take her to your room, showing her around the place abit before sitting on the edge, you watch as she settles beneath your covers and you take it as your sign to copy. your body's stiff and awkward until you lock eyes with her, she for your hand.

“you don’t have to be scared,” she laughs gently. you let your fingers lace with hers. “i’m not.” it’s not entirely true, and you think she could tell by the way she squeezes your hand.

“i don’t want sex tonight,” she adds softly. “i just want to be here with you.”

you didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “thank you.”

she shifts closer, just enough that your arms brush. it feels so intimate without being too overwhelming. you fall asleep like that, hand in hand, breathing in sync.

~

two weeks of that.

two weeks of hanging around eachothers places, making out on occasion, and watching shitty movies while cuddled up on the couch. la pretty sweet deal, if you did say so yourself.

you didn't have to be some performative pos infront of shoko because she was someone you felt comfortable with, you got to spend optimal time with one of the coolest people you knew, and said person had the same feelings for you as you did for her.

perfect.

well, almost.

the only thing wrong with this infatuating arrangement of swapping spit and touching up on each other, was the fact you hadn't put a label on any of this yet. usually, it would go something like this: you'd meet a guy, maybe screw around a bit, have him begging for your time for a date, go on said date, then you'd be asked out. (not that you'd ever said yes.)

obviously, with two chicks it was a different story. you knew you liked her. god, you liked shoko more than you'd ever liked anyone. with each passing day of just living in her presence, you've learnt that maybe you've been missing out your whole life on this whole gay thing. only thing is, how do you take this relationship to the next level?

do you have sex? is that the next thing? she'd been hinting at it lately but you weren't sure. do you ask her out first? maybe both? sex then a date? date then sex? this was all so confusing. your panicked thoughts came to fruition one night at a white lies party gojo's frat was hosting.

a theme that's been over-done to the max but was always a good laugh.

you'd texted shoko earlier that day to ask what she was up to and if she was coming, and she of course had already been invited by shiu. (who you've since found out is her plug, hence why she's always at the functions, she's lining his pockets as well as being his friend.)

smiling to yourself at the thought of retreating upstairs away from everyone else with shoko, you step into the house and smell that disgusting reek of spoiled alcohol.

a few weeks ago you'd be fluttering around greeting people, but as of late all you could muster is a quick wave as your beelined it to your pretty friend.

so, that's what you were doing. in your white shirt that spelt out "i'm coming" in messy handwriting, you're throwing small greetings to the people you recognise while making your way over the the couch shoko's always at.

you’re halfway across the living room when sukuna, this dumb meat head, spots you.

his eyes drag over you, then snag on your shirt. “no way,” he says, grinning. “is that true for me?” you stop because he steps directly into your path. for gods sake, you wished men you'd fucked months ago would stop thinking they were the centre of your universe. you force a very obviously fake smile and grit out, “it’s just a theme, sukuna.” he laughs, loud and annoyingly self assured. “so you’re saying there’s a chance?"

your gaze flicks past him, already searching for the couch. for her. you spot dark hair, her posture, long slender legs tucked up the way she always sits. relief and the sight of her unfathomable beauty almost makes your knees give out. you try to step around him but he moves again, blocking you off from your precious view. “come on. you telling me i can’t make that shirt honest tonight?”

oh you were so sick of this.

you don't know if it's the weeks of finally feeling content with your life without men like him running things or what, but you bark out a harsh, “move,” he raises a brow. “what?”

“i said move.” there’s no flirt in your voice like you'd usually put on, no. you're kind of over putting on such a facade for people you didn't really care about. the only person you wanted to impress with your charm and social skills right now was sitting on a couch you wished you were sitting at as well.

his grin falls. “damn, relax. i’m just talking.”

“god,” you say flatly. “can you just fuck off.”

a few heads turn. that alone is enough to shock him. you step forward and shove past his shoulder. he stares at your gobsmacked at your attitude. well, you're glad that was over. you were expecting some more yelling from him, so that was a plus.

you finish your journey and there she sits, wearing a white shirt with neat lettering that reads i’m not addicted to nic. you laugh under your breath as you drop down beside her. “liar,” you say.

she glances over, eyes lighting up. “takes one to know one.” you almost kiss her cheek infront of all of these people without thinking. the urge hits so fast it makes your head spin but you stop yourself at the last second, settling for leaning in close.

“hi,” you say instead.

“hi,” she replies softer.

wow, she looks good, it’s distracting.

her boobs looked really good in that shirt, you could faintly see the outline of her bra. you have to curl your fingers into your own thigh to keep from doing something reckless. she notices. her eyes dip then come back to your face, amused. “you okay?”

you swallow. “define okay.” her lips twitch into a smile. “you look… restless.” that’s one way to put it. she leans in close to whisper in your ear “we could go upstairs.” your breath leaves you in a slow exhale. “i’ve been waiting for you to say that.” you get the okay from geto beforehand, and he waves you two off. you'd bother assumed he was still under the impression you were strictly using his room for smoking, he said the smell went with his aura and that shoko could hot box it as much as she wanted. such a poser.

but, in reality, he had an ongoing bet with yuki about how long it would take for the two of you to go public. he knew.

the wooden door closes behind you, and it feels like a switch flips. like the noise and the eyes and the expectations all fall away.

shoko turns to you.

“can i kiss you?” she asks. you nod eagerly. “yes.” she doesn’t rush it. she steps into your space, gives you time to pull back if you want to, and you don’t.

your mouths meet, soft at first, then deeper as you relax into it. it’s so familiar now, but the way she's pushing up against you suggests she's feeling a little frisky.

you break the kiss just long enough to laugh. “why are you being so confident tonight?”

she smiles, forehead resting against yours. “i’ve just been thinking about you all day. can't get you out of my head.”

her voice.. holy shit, her voice. you kiss her again, your hands falling around her waist as hers grip your ass.

she really was being bold. and you loved it.

she now presses you back until your thighs hit the edge of suguru's bed. you sit without breaking the kiss, and she follows, sitting down in your lap.

"for the record, i never stop thinking about you, sho." you huff when the kiss breaks.

she smiles, small and mischievous. “i noticed.” her hands slide under your shirt, palms warm against your skin. your shoulders tense up but then relax when you realise you’re not nervous, you’re just keyed in.

she kisses down your neck, like she'd done a few times before, but now she was doing iit not only with passion, but with lust. she pulls at your shirt collar as she kisses down your collar. “shoko,” you whine, gosh, you never whined like that with men.

she hums against your skin, sultry and hungry. “mm?”

“don’t stop.” that’s all it takes. she nudges you further back onto the bed, guiding you until you’re lying down. she takes her time pushing your shirt up slowly, fingers dragging lightly over your stomach, watching your face the whole time. checking. always checking.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” she says.

you shake your head. “i will.”

“perfect.” she leans down again, looking you dead in your eyes as she drags her tounge from your belly button up to your bra, unhooking it at the back then pulling it off with her teeth.

wow, magic mike much? she's still giving you the fuck me eyes as she takes one of your hard nipples into her mouth, sucking gently pulling more pretty sounds from your throat.

you'd always thought this moment would feel wrong when you finally engaged. that maybe you'd freak out and stop her, but with the way she's murmuring praise and compliments into your skin while she sucks at your body paints a completely different picture.

"you're so beautiful, baby. prettiest tits i've ever seen." she smiles.

before you can thank her with an embarrassed flush, she bites down softly on your nipple and you moan ever so prettily, hooking your fingers into getos sheets.

was it bad you were doing this in your friends bed? probably.

didn't stop either if you though. as she continues kissing down your body, her hands slip into your shorts, thumbs hooking on the waistband. you lift your hips in instinct, helping her. the look she gives you at that is sexy and so approving.

“you're so eager,” she murmurs.

“shut up,” you say, embarrassed, but grinning. she slides your shorts down your legs, followed by your underwear, her movements are so fluid and feminine.

when she looks at you fully like this, open and bare under her gaze, your face heats. you almost cover yourself.

she catches your wrist gently before you can. “hey.” you meet her eyes. “you’re ethereal,” she says, like some simple fact.

and yeah, you knew you were pretty, a multitude of guys would line up to spout that in your ear. but having a beautiful girl like shoko say that meant so much more than all the men in the world combined.

she leans down, kisses your inner thigh, then the other. her mouth is warm, never quite where you want it yet. you squirm, letting out a soft sound you don’t recognise as yours. she smiles against your skin. “relax. i’ve got you.”

and she does.

her fingers part you slowly, like she’s learning how you'll react. she doesn’t rush, doesn’t push. just explores, touches, listens to the way your body responds. when she finally slips a finger inside you, it’s so gentle. you gasp, hands flying to her hair, gripping without meaning to.

she doesn’t tell you to let go.

she adds another finger once you relax around her, curling them just enough to make your thoughts scatter. your hips move on their own, chasing the high you so desperately wanted.

“shoko,” you breathe, a little wrecked already. she looks up at you, eyes focused. “yeah?”

“that feels… really good.” she chuckles softly. “i know.” she leans down again, mouth replacing her fingers for a moment, tongue slow and thorough. you go still, then melt, one hand covering your mouth to keep quiet. she pulls back just long enough to say, “you don’t have to be.

that’s permission you didn’t know you needed. her flat tongue spreads against your clit and you feel like fainting. she watches the way your face contorts in pleasure, and slowly licks through your folds with a hum of pleasure that vibrates through you. you've been eaten out before, but not like this.

not by another woman who knows exactly what to do to make you feel good.

she's lapping you up like a dog, her tongue flicking back and forth over your bud with her own pretty moans. the noises that rip from your throat are otherworldly, sounds you've never made.

"fuck, you taste so sweet, love." she smiles, her lips glistening with your own liquid.

you bite your lip at the sight and grind into the air, asking for more. "aww, so cute". and she dives back in. she alternates between her mouth and her fingers, never letting the building coil in your stomach drop, tightening it carefully. every time you get close, she eases off just enough to keep you right there.

“you’re doing so good,” she hums. "so good for me, baby." it’s almost too much. your body tightens, muscles drawing in, breath uneven. “i’m close,” you whine in between gasps.

she smiles and goes all in, her fingers plunge deep inside you as her mouth works and sucks at your clit, drawing more quips from your throat. shoko was intoxicated with you. your taste had her dripping and the way you were grinding into her mouth so desperately was driving her mad.

she could see why you had so much sex appeal, if this was a performance you were a damn good actor. she speeds up, solely focused on you finishing, hooking her fingers inside of you to reach that sponge spot she knew was making you dizzy. "c'mon, my sweet girl, give it to me."

that gets you, because in a mix of whining and gripping the fabric of the sheets, you come undone all over her fingers.

"atta girl."

after, she kisses your stomach, then curls up beside you, pulling you into her chest. your head fits there like it belongs.

you’re still catching your breath, staring at the ceiling, trying to come back into yourself.

“hey,” she murmurs. you hum in response, too relaxed to form words yet. “you okay?” she asks. you nod. “yeah. more than okay.”

“good,” she says, relief threading through her voice. “stay with me for a sec.”

she pushes off the bed to rummage through geto’s drawer, mumbling something under her breath about him being gross but prepared. when she comes back, she’s holding a packet of wipes she absolutely did not bring herself.

“god,” you laugh. “of course he has those.”

“right?” she says. she sits beside you again and gently helps clean you up, her delicate movements are careful and so, so respectful. she keeps checking your face, your reactions, making sure you’re still comfortable.

“tell me if anything feels weird,” she says quietly. “It doesn’t,” you reply. “it feels… nice.”

she sighs with a smirk that screams 'i'm infatuated with you,' then tosses the wipes aside and pulls you into her arms.

her fingers slide into your hair, combing through it slowly, you didn’t understand just how badly you needed this care until she so graciously gave it to you.

“there you go,” she murmurs. “just breathe.”

she gives your forehead a sweet kiss, then your nose, her hands are still moving against your scalp and you melt into her soft touch. “you did so good,” she says.

your face goes red. “i didn’t really do anything.”

“hmm, you trusted me,” she replies. “that counts.” you move up closer, curling into her.

“i kinda wish,” she adds after a moment, voice thoughtful, “that our first time doing… that… wasn’t in a frat house.”

you laugh softly. “yeah?"

“yeah,” she says. “like. your place. or mine. somewhere quieter. with real blankets. and a locked door.” you tilt your head back to look at her. “are you saying geto’s room isn’t romantic?”

she snorts. “i’m saying his vibes are deeply cursed.”

you laugh and squeeze her arm, "i guess it's kinda romantic since this is where we met,"

she nods and looks down at you with such love in her irises.

“i guess you're right. next time,” she says lightly.

next time. heck yeah, there was a next time.

“hey,” you say. “that was really amazing.” her expression softens. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you nod. “and for the record? you proved my shirt right.” she breaks, laughing, shoulders shaking as she hides her face in your neck. “oh my god.”

“i’m just saying,” you add. “very on theme.”

she lifts her head with her eyes bright. “good to know my reputation remains intact.” you grin, then grow quieter. “thank you. for taking care of me.”

she doesn’t joke this time. she cups your face gently, “always.” the way she looks at you makes your heart feel all gooey and soft, sure, you'd just had your first.. you don’t even know what to call it, with a girl, in a frat house, but it was the most intimacy you'd ever experienced.

she kisses you softly once more then tucks you back against her plush chest. her hand returns to your hair, slow and so soothingly repetitive, like she’s memorising the feel of you. you could fall asleep like this, you think. easily.

alas, “we should probably go back down eventually,” you mumble.

“eventually,” she agrees. “not yet.”

you smile, eyes closing. “okay.”

~

the plan was to go downstairs and go home, but apparently the universe had other plans for you and shoko. you're walking back down the stairs with shoko trailing behind you, when you look over the lounge room and dining area to see gojo.

he’s across the room, leaning against a pillar, his blue eyes already on you. the moment your eyes meet, his face falls. he looks so, so guilty. before you can tilt your head and scrunch your face up at him, he mouths a drunken, 'i'm sorry.' the fuck? sorry for what?

you barely have time to process it before you hear your name.

“oh my god, there she is.”

oh.

you turn, and there they are. the self centred butches you've grown to hate, but ones you’ve also known forever, or at least long enough to know exactly how shallow their look is right now. one of them laughs. “so that’s where you’ve been hiding.”

another tilts her head. “gojo spilled his guts, by the way. about you and this... girl.”

your stomach drops, but your spine stays straight.

“told you what?” you ask. they exchange looks, delighted. “that you’ve been blowing off parties because you’re obsessed with her,” she says, nodding at shoko. “kinda explains a lot.” behind you, you can feel shoko step back slightly, you can see in your peripheral how her shoulders curl into her body as she shys away from these girls nasty glares.

if you weren't pissed the fuck off before, you sure were now. shoko was confident in bed, but not when it came to judgey whores like this. “wow,” you say flatly. “you guys really rushed to conclusions fast.”

“don’t act like it’s not obvious,” one of them says. “you disappear for weeks and suddenly you’re glued to… this fag.”

the word hangs there, ugly even without being said properly. you watch shoko’s jaw tighten. you feel her hand twitch, like she’s deciding whether to leave or stay or disappear entirely.

and that’s it. you're not proud if the way you instantly get up in these girls faces like you were about to knock them in their teeth. “say that again.” you spit. they blink, completely thrown off.

you push the girl who said it back, and she stumbles like a pathetic feather. "don’t call her that." you bark. "insecure hoe's like you really piss me off." by now she's looking at you, then around the room like someone would give her a helping hand. "your life of sucking dick and getting trains ran through you really dumbs down your personality? huh? have to make others feel bad because you're just some pocket pussy?"

the onlookers are pissing themselves laughing and a handful of them are egging you on with the odd cheer. she literally starts crying. you half scoff and half laugh at how pathetic she was being.

maybe that wasn't exactly crystal for your shiny record, but the only thing you can think to care about right now was shoko, and they were making her feel shitty.

one of them scoffs. “you're fucking insane! we're just concerned.”

“no,” you say. “you’re bored.” you step back, placing yourself slightly in front of shoko without even thinking about it. not hiding her. just making it clear where you stand.

geto and yuki, who happened to be nearby, were taking this all in and nodding to themselves, clinking glasses. those two were never a good mix when it came to conspiracy, because their predictions always came to fruition.

“you’re all so wrapped up in your own little worlds that the second someone stops orbiting you, you get nasty,” you say. “and honestly? it’s embarrassing.” more people start looking. “you think you’re better than us now?” one of them snaps.

you shrug. “no. i just think i’m done pretending i like you.” that one stings. you see it hit.

“so what, you’re dating her now?” another says, sneering. “is that it?” you glance at shoko. she’s watching you closely, eyes searching your face, like she’s bracing for impact. you grab her hand.

“yeah,” you say. “maybe i am.”

their faces twist with both disgust and dissatisfaction, the girl you'd clocked was long gone, probably off crying somewhere.

you reach back and take shoko’s hand.

you don’t look away from them as you do it. “if you’ve got a problem with who i like,” you say, “that’s yours to deal with. not mine.”

they look so pathetically small now. mean in a way that isn’t powerful anymore. you turn away from them without another word and start toward the door, tugging shoko gently along with you. people part as you pass, some smiling ear to ear, some indifferent, most already losing interest.

college attention spans are short like that.

you guide her into the night and down the street a few paves. then shoko pulls you into a hug. it’s sudden and oh so tight. her arms wrap around you and her face presses into your shoulder like she needs to make sure you’re still there.

“thank you,” she says quietly. you hold her just as tight. “for what?”

“for that,” she says. “for not letting them talk like that. for… choosing me, i guess.”

you smile into her hair, and squeeze her arm twice. "for you i'd do that a million times over, sho." she pulls back just enough to look at you. her eyes are bright, a little wet, a lot warm.

“you know that was big, right?” she says gently. “for you.”

you nod. “yeah.”

“are you okay?” she asks. you think about it. about the way your chest feels lighter than it has in years. about how scared you were ten minutes ago and how steady you feel now. “yeah,” you say. “more than okay.”

she smiles, then her eyes change from bittersweet to playful.

“so,” she says, tilting her head. “we’re dating now, huh? that’s news to me.”

your face heats up instantly. “what? no, i just- i was proving a point-."

“mm,” she says. “sure.”

“oh gosh,” you blush. “i didn’t mean to, like, announce anything.” she steps closer, getting up in your space. “you don’t want to date me?”

you open your mouth and stumble. “that’s not- i didn’t say-”

she kisses you. her lips mould perfectly with yours. when she pulls back, she smiles. “i’d love to date you.” you stare at her for a good second, then you giggle. “yeah?”

“yeah,” she says. you lean in and kiss her again, grinning into it.

college is messy. people talk. parties get crashed. friendships crack and reform and fall apart.

but right now, with shoko's hand in yours and the night fanning open in front of you, none of that feels so scary anymore.

it feels like a beautiful beginning for you, and this beautiful, allusive girl you'd become infatuated with.

okay, yeah. maybe you were a little gay.

"i haven't seen you smoking lately, what's up with that?"

"i only smoke when i'm stressed. i use your tits as stress toys now, so there's no need."

"love it."

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