rosie

“Ah, of course a lovely sorcerer like you would throw me out and break my heart!” he laments, tossing his head to the side dramatically. “How will I ever recover!”

You snort, nudging him lightly. “ Stop that! What if Yaga hears you?”

Geto rolls his eyes. “He won’t, love. You’re too paranoid,” he says, smoothly nudging you back into your room a couple of steps. “I could stay with you all night and he’d never know.”

“How can you be so sure?” you pout, narrowing your eyes at him. His answering smirk makes your cheeks tingle with warmth. Sometimes, you swear you’ll burst into flames right there in front of him whenever he looks at you like that. It’s the same expression that his best friend often wears, but on your boyfriend, it’s infinitely more charming.

“How do you think Satoru and I manage to sneak out so often?” he says, wiggling his brows. “Yaga is a man of routine. We just learned what that routine is.”

“Oh,” you say, deflating a little. “Then…”

“Yes?” he says, his voice softening at your tentative tone.

You chew your lip, looking down and away from him shyly. “Maybe you can stay?”

A smile graces his face, this one touching his eyes with warm affection. “Sure. I don’t wanna go to sleep yet anyway,” he says, reaching behind him to slide the door shut silently. “Maybe I can get more than one kiss, too?” You respond by pulling him further into your room until you both stumble onto the bed, stifling your giggles between fluttering lips and curious hands. 

The moon tucks away your secrets amongst the stars that night, its silvery light washing over your bodies, curled together under the blankets. Your hands are intertwined, resting between you as you quietly gaze at one another, not daring to look away in case it shatters whatever it is that keeps your hearts bound together.

“Suguru?” you whisper, your voice barely louder than an exhale.

“Hm?” He squeezes your hand, letting you know that you have his full undivided attention. As you always do.

You hesitate a moment. “Do you think we’ll always be together?” It’s a childish, naive question and you know that. You feel embarrassed just saying it out loud. But you know he’ll never tease you for it. He’d never take advantage of you when you’re being vulnerable, he’s too kind for that.

He reaches out and caresses your cheek, smoothing a thumb over it gently. “I think there will always be something that ties us together, no matter what. As sorcerers, our lives are unpredictable, but one thing’s for sure.” He pauses, and you swear you can see a touch of pink kiss his cheeks. “I will always love you.”

“You will?” you whisper, in awe of his confession. 

“Of course,” he chuckles softly. “You think I could ever stop?”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says warmly. Raw honesty shines in his eyes, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch. “Besides, do you think there’s anything that could keep me away from you?”

You shake your head, heart fluttering like a petal in the wind at his confession. “I promise, too,” you say with a wobbly smile, throat tight with emotion. “I will never stop loving you.”

-

There’s a crack in the wall.

It’s a thin thing. Barely the width of a hair. You’ve slept in this room for three years, but you’ve only just noticed it now. It spiders downwards from one corner of your window, stretching diagonally towards the wooden floor. You follow the crack with your eyes, back and forth and back again, memorising its every twist and turn. 

You wonder if the crack will widen as time goes by. If, even after you leave the halls of Jujutsu Tech behind once you graduate, the crack will remain. Maybe someone will notice the little fissure and choose to fix it. Only time will tell, but you won’t be around to see it. 

You reach out and trace the crack with your finger, the smooth, painted plaster cool beneath your touch. You dip the edge of your nail into it, ignoring the way the texture drags unpleasantly as you draw it through slowly. A little paint and plaster falls away with your picking and when you pull back, the crack is a little wider than when you first noticed its presence. How much wider can it get until it all crumbles, you wonder.

How much more pain can you take until your heart splits in two?

Your eyes shift to the window, the empty grounds of your school wet with rain. The trees drip a symphony onto the glistening stone slabs that make up the pathway leading into the student quarters. A couple of droplets land on the curled fist in your lap. You look down, surprised, wondering whether it’s rain or-

A knock to your door makes you jump. Before you can answer or dry your cheeks, it slides open, revealing a grim looking Shoko, Gojo trailing in behind her with his head hanging low. Pity flickers across her features before settling into sorrow when she looks at you, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips as she slowly crosses the room towards you. Silently, she sits beside you on your bed and takes your hand, gently unfurling your tight fist. She rubs a thumb soothingly over the crescent shaped marks in your palm, swiping away the droplet of blood welling from one of them.

“What?” you whisper. You’re taken aback how hoarse you sound. 

“We can bring him back.” Gojo growls through grit teeth from behind, still standing in the doorway. “We just need to knock some sense into him, that’s all.”

Shoko looks over her shoulder at him, at the wild, frantic look in his brilliantly blue eyes, before turning her attention back to you. “We want you to come with us,” she says. “Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

A bitter laugh escapes you and you shake your head. You withdraw from Shoko, pulling your knees up to your chest, as if doing so will keep you from splintering. Your laughter grows breathless, until you’re gasping great, heaving breaths, quickly punctuated by grief-stricken sobs. One would think yet another person has died.

After Haibara’s death, you didn’t think you would have to endure further loss. What could possibly hurt more than the death of someone you cared about? 

You should commend Suguru Geto for proving you so utterly wrong.

“H-he told me,” you hiccup, trying and failing to draw in a steady breath. “Not to follow o-or find him. He just- he-” you shake your head again, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. “I told him to s-stay- I-” It feels like you’ve swallowed one of Geto’s curses, the worst curse of all. 

“I don’t fucking care,” Gojo spits. “I’m going, with or without you.”

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves. Shoko purses her lips and looks between you and the open door. She reaches out, about to comfort you, then pauses and retracts her hand. “Call me if you need anything,” she says quietly, before following her best friend out, leaving you all alone once more.

You find the crack in the wall again. 

It looks more like a gouge by the time you fall asleep.

-

Hot, laboured breaths leave your lips, gusting over warm, sweat-damp skin. Another cry builds in your throat, sputtering out of you at a high pitch as your ears ring and your vision mists. You hang amongst the clouds, suspended in bliss, trembling with the force of it. Silky hair slips through your fingers, long strands tickling at your jaw and shoulder as you float down from euphoria, still tingling with pleasurable heat.

All too soon, the warmth withdraws, leaving you cold and forlorn once again. You press your lips together and turn onto your side, blinking away the wetness that persists in your eyes. Moonlight drips pearlescent through the cracks in the blinds, watching you like a silent sentry, though it offers no comfort from the turmoil that simmers within you now that it’s over.

This time, it’s definitely over.

Geto is silent and swift as he dresses. You hazard a look at him, quietly turning over to watch him one last time– and it will be the last time. He cuts a devastating figure in the dim light, broad shouldered and solid, yet elegant in the way he carries himself and moves around. A strong sorcerer indeed, or rather curse user, as he likes to call himself now. He catches your longing stare as he ties his hair up ,and you flinch when his dark eyes settle on yours.

“Don’t look so worried. No one will see me,” he says, adjusting his bun and shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He sheds the persona of benevolent leader whenever he comes here, choosing to melt into the dark, a ghost roaming the streets of Tokyo at twilight. 

You wet your lips and swallow, trying to find your voice. “Don’t come back this time,” you say quietly. “I’m done.”

He pauses, looking at you with a handsome smirk. “Don’t be like that. If you wanted to cuddle you could’ve said, love. No need to pout.”

“I mean it,” you tell him, keeping your voice as steady as you can. “I can’t keep doing this.”

Geto moves to sit beside you, a concerned expression on his face, and you yank the blankets up around your bare torso. You force yourself to look away, suddenly feeling more naked than you already are. You can’t stand it when he looks at you like that– like he cares, like he’s concerned. You almost believe it for a moment. “Hey. I missed you,” he murmurs, reaching for your hand. Just as his fingertips brush yours, you snatch it away. “I can stay a while longer, if you like.”

“I don’t want you to stay.” The lie feels like ash on your tongue. Your heart protests against it, battering against your ribs like it's straining to get out and tell him the truth. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I’m done.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

“Don’t mock me,” you scoff, turning away from him again, biting the inside of your cheek to give yourself a different sort of pain to focus on. 

“Don’t say that, baby,” he coos, his voice a lure made of soft, velvet ribbon. You hate what it does to you. How the sound of it slips under your skin and snakes its way into your aching chest. “You know I’d never do that.”

You feel his hand rest lightly on your bare shoulder, his touch sending warmth singing traitorously across your skin. Your body responds to him as it always has, weak to the slim possibility that he’ll show you something resembling love, just enough to keep the tiny spark of hope alive.

“Come here,” he whispers, and like a sailor to a siren’s song, you’re drawn to him until his arm is curled around you and your nose is bumping against his chest, nestling against the soft fabric of his hoodie. He smells faintly of lavender and soap, a scent so familiar it makes you want to cry. He leans against the headboard and strokes your hair, deceptively tender. 

Just tonight, you tell yourself. You’ll allow yourself this much only tonight. 

“Is that better?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair, exactly the way he used to when you’d watch movies together late into the night in his dorm room. Back when you were younger and madly in love. Back when things were simpler and the weight of his choices weren’t crushing you. Back when it was easier to breathe.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you nod and close your eyes. If you try hard enough, you can almost pretend that you’re both back at Jujutsu High. You can pretend he never left you, that he didn’t murder countless people and become your enemy. When he touches you, holds you, kisses you, you can forget every tragedy, if only for a few precious moments. You can let yourself believe, just for now, that he still loves you as much as you’ve always loved him.

“It’s almost dawn,” he says softly, brushing his fingers over your cheek. You don’t know how much time has passed, but you wish the world would stand still for a little while longer. But the silvery light of the moon has left you. And he will follow suit.

“There’s still a while yet,” you murmur, not wanting to let go.  

“You could always come with me,” he offers. Your stomach turns sour. Every time you let him linger like this, he’ll ask you the same thing. To join him, to be at his side, to go against every ounce of morality in your body.

The worst part?

You consider it every single time.

Despite leaving sorcery behind, there’s still a tiny voice within you that wants to go back, the same voice that wants to be with Geto again. That part of you doesn’t care about getting hurt, or reopening old wounds you’ve taken years to stitch together over and over again. It’s the same part of you that argues that those threads unravel every time you let him back into your home, your arms, your bed. You’re hurting yourself anyway, why not just commit to it?

“I can’t,” you reply, suddenly feeling bone tired.

“You don’t have to fight,” he says, still hoping to persuade you, the way he did all those years ago when he first decided to leave. “You don’t have to do anything. Just be with me.”

“No.” Slowly, you untangle yourself from him. Every inch of space you put between you is another exhausted attempt to close the worn cracks again. “I can’t.”

Geto’s eyes cloud over, any hint of emotion he’d shown to you disappearing into blackness. “Okay.” He swings his legs off the bed and stands in one smooth motion. “I’ll let myself out.”

WIth a trembling lip, you call out to him just as he reaches the door. “Why don’t you stay?”

“I just did,” he says, letting out a huff of wry laughter. 

“With me,” you say, voice hitching with desperation. “Leave it behind, Suguru! Stay with me. We can go anywhere in the world, away from it all just- just stay.”

He answers with a sigh, his back the only thing you can see make out through watery eyes. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Then don’t come back,” you tell him. You want to sound angry and unshakeable, but your words come out as a pained plea. “If you won’t stay with me, then please, please, just- stay away from me!”

Geto turns to look at you then with his hand on the doorknob, a small, sad smile on his handsome face. “I can’t do that, either,” he tells you. “I can’t break my promise.”

You want to scream that he already has, but the door clicks shut before you can get out another word. You lay down, defeated and drained, and stare up at the ceiling. Tears roll down your temples like tiny waterfalls, soaking your pillow and hair as dawn breaks over the horizon. You fall asleep like that, your fractured heart still beating to the syllables of his name.