So, I suggest we make a pact, since we're both in it for the long haul: whoever dies first, the other one can come and bring flowers to their grave. How's that?
Ski. Twenty something.
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@lit-ski
So, I suggest we make a pact, since we're both in it for the long haul: whoever dies first, the other one can come and bring flowers to their grave. How's that?
Ski. Twenty something.
m.list

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Λββ§βΊβ gojo satoru Λββ§βΊβ
ΰ£ͺ Φ΄ΦΆΦΈβΎ .έ satoru and his habit of sharing his food with you.
satoru and his habit of sharing his food with you.
it starts off small, packaged kikufuku nudged in your direction, zunda cream flavour, oh so generous gojo satoru, holding out his favourite and very obviously last packet to you.
"what did you do, satoru?" you queried, side-eyeing him, suspiciously taking the mochi from his hands, waiting for him to elaborate whilst you indulged in the potential bribe or poison, you didn't think about that.
"what?" he huffed in disbelief, leaning over to toss the empty package into the trash bin, long limbs aiding the task, "can I not do something from the goodness of my heart?" he scoffed at your sheer audacity to question his intentions.
"I don't know satoru," you hummed around the taste of sweet edamame paste and whipped cream wrapped in stretchy mochi, making a show of biting into the delicate dessert, "it's pretty suspicious of you to share kikufuku."
he pouted, choosing to ignore your remark.
but, the habit continued.
sometimes, it was matcha, the most expensive from the cafe in central tokyo, ice still swimming in the thick drink as he set the cup on your table, shrugging his shoulders when you raised an eyebrow.
sometimes, it would be steaming rice and curry, packed in a pretty bento box, a sticky note with riddles on it.
"do I look like a kid to you?" you reached for the bento despite your words, hands rubbing together as he settled beside you on the staff room couch.
"it boost morale." satoru leaned closer bumping his shoulder against yours, "ask nanamin, I've been writing him notes too." he chuckled, handing you a pair of chopsticks, nursing a bottle of sweet lemon soda.
"you draw him dicks," you snorted, laughter echoing in the empty hallway, eyes lingering on his soda, "don't tell me that's your lunch." nudging the bento closer to him, you shifted your chair closer too.
"you know, i bought this for you." his gaze lingering on your face as you took a bite of the curry, hummed at the taste of it, "on second thought, feed me."
"was this your plan all along?" you leaned back, eyes twinkling with mirth as you watched him fidget for a moment, "you know you could have just asked."
he knew he could have.