五条悟  | GOJO SATORU

“Even if a game doesn’t seem clearable at first, after playing it over and over again, you can conquer it.” 

“Come back safely. I’ll be waiting for you, forever.”

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader.

summary: he’s coming home for the holidays.

warning: timeskip spoilers. slightly suggestive.

word count: 2,980.

a/n: @shiio shio darling, 親愛的, happiest of holidays to you, baby. i hope you have a wonderfully warm and beautifully bright holiday season with all the trimming. and by trimmings, i mean winning all your mahjong games and getting an entire potluck to devour into as a celebration. it’s always a ride chatting with you because your absolute Range. politics? nana? sg food? childhood nostalgia? we still need to have a Discussion about hoozuki !! thank you for being such a sweetheart and always being so honest and easy to talk to. your energy is absolutely admirable and your personality is a warmth that your loved ones are lucky to have. hope you have the coziest of celebrations this year, and can’t wait to see you somewhere in asia soon♡♡

In a one bedroom apartment in Warsaw, Ushijima presses the call button on a recently dialled number.

It’s currently one degree Celsius, and he’s just showered after getting home from practice. The ends of his hair aren’t completed blow dried, and his shirt is clinging to his broad back a little uncomfortably. There is rice just about done in the portable Zojirushi rice cooker, and the last of his Power Curry packet is bubbling on the stovetop.

But this cannot wait.

South of Poland, in a small Parisian condo, Tendou is lounging in his red reindeer pyjamas with a cup of peppermint tea and a slice of the opera cake he’s been testing out this entire December. He’s skipping a savoury dinner tonight and tomorrow, just until Christmas Day; there are too many last minute taste tests to eat through.

Truth be told, he’s pretty sick of this chocolate, coffee, and almond combination at the moment, so when his phone rings and he sees the caller ID, he immediately lets his fork clatter onto the ceramic and reaches for the TV remote. Decreasing the volume on a French rerun of It’s a Wonderful Life, he accepts the call.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” he grins, tilting his head as if he’s talking to Ushijima face to face, “how have you been since I talked to you,” he pauses as if waiting for a drumroll, “last week?”

The reply from the other line has no time for fanfare.

“I’m going home.”

“Oh ho?” The grin widens. “To Japan?”

“No.”

That’s unexpectedly expected.