You Cryin ?

Satoru: i spent all morning typing u this heartfelt birthday message

Satoru: 🎶🍑🎂 Rizzy GyattDay to Mew… 🤫👈🎶 Pookie is literally 👌 in her 👩 Birthday 💐 Era… chat, can 👁️ we 👶👥 get a W? 💯🧚 HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎁 😸🩵 the ultimate 💯 RIZZ Lord 👑 with the phattest Level 10 GYATT 🔛🔼 in the universe 💘😜🍀🧿 Twenty F-WHORE 2️⃣4️⃣👯‍♀️🫦never 🚫 looked 👀 so SIGMA 😩🐺. Let’s 👍 celebrATE 👅🥂 this GOON-MASTER with some 🐅 CAKE 🍑🍰🎂 don’t ⌛ forget 👋🏾 to BLOW 🍃 out 2️⃣4️⃣ 👴 candles so all 💯 your 👉 wishes 🙏 and CUM 💦💦 true. 🐵 Send 📩💌 this message 📝 to 🔟 other 👹 GAMERS 👦🎮 to send 📩📬📮 them dirty thoughts 🤔 birthday 💐 prayers and V-BUCKS 🙏🙏

Satoru: i spent all morning typing u this heartfelt birthday message

i want to fucking win

Tags:

#;but my soul knows otherwise | satosugu

#;when granted anything you can’t do anything | au

#;i want to fucking win | hockey au

2009 Japan Summer Camp

Hokkaido, Japan

He'd fought hard for this--played hard for it too. It wasn't something that most of his family really understood, but they at least supported him. It had been a fluke that had gotten him into it, a peewee league that had been started on a whim by some guy whose kid was obsessed with it too. And it lured Suguru in. He loves the sound of the blades in the ice, loved the way it felt like he was flying around the rink. And loved scoring goal after goal on other kids.

It was only upward from there, joining real leagues--with his parent's support, traveling out of the area to find better teams and coaches and resources. And Suguru doesn't think that anyone ever expected him to make any more of it, to push himself into greatness. But he had. And being there, at this camp, felt like holding onto the vestiges of what once was as he ushers in what's left to come.

It's not as impressive, exactly, as the prolific popularity of the other counselor he'd been partnered up with. But scouts will be looking at him--had been. Had even visited the camp for the potential to witness what he had to offer. On and off of the ice. They were looking at him to see if Suguru had what it takes. And, well, if he had to stand in anyone's shadow...Satoru Gojo's had a way of rubbing off some of his shininess onto whoever stood closest. It positioned him in a way that Suguru was accutely aware of.

And when his little team of peewees had wiped the floor with--oh, oops, he meant 'won a sportsmanly match against' Satoru's team? It just felt all the more shiny and special to Suguru Geto. Maybe it proved something about himself to himself. That he was, in fact, special too. And it's in that special silence, practically humming to himself while he chops up extra veggies for more salad, that Suguru is hit by Satoru's question. "Well, yeah. Aren't you?"

Because of course he's happy to have two weeks of a real life before it's back for his last bit of senior year--before he's going to be stared at like a virus under a microscope while scouts tried to rip him apart and figure out if he's worth the big leagues or not. Of course he's happy to have a few days where he can just hang out, eat his mom's home cooking, go to the community pool. Just be a kid in a way he hadn't realized he'd sacrificed until he'd stepped back and thought about how many of these kinds of camps he'd gone to over his own childhood.

“Nah.” His lips smack. Uncomfortable with the question being turned back at him, Gojo clicks the tongs aggressively as he finds words to portray how he feels. “Not really I mean. Don’t you get tired of training all the time?”

Camp was an extra-special fun time training for Gojo because it had so many other extracurricular activities. He never really went for the hockey, he just liked being able to do something that made him feel like a regular kid. Even though he was growing out of his adolescence, Gojo never wanted to grow bored with his own life.

If anything, this camp was confirmation for Satoru that he was ready to move out onto his own and that he really didn’t want to go home for the rest of the summer. Secretly he’d been looking for apartments in Tokyo but was too afraid to apply to them. Gojo was already trying to adjust to enough change as it was, not sure he could really handle living on his own. He never really learned how to cook and didn’t want to be responsible for anything, really. If anything, Gojo just wanted a taste of freedom, not emancipation.

When Suguru confirms it out loud he can’t help but chuckle. After admitting defeat he’s finally able to have a win and maybe that’s what all of this is about. Maybe with some finality Satoru is able to let go of having absolute control over his life so that he can enjoy something for once. It feels good, smiling ear to ear as Suguru thanks him.

“You’re…welcome.” He couldn’t have uttered the phrase more than a hand full of times in his life, never to Suguru. He can’t help but stop us appreciate the depth they’ve both gone through to get to this point.

His stomach growls and he realizes he never had dinner. Satoru was too busy making sure everything was perfect that he forgot to eat which, with the less efficient regeneration, was something of a hinderance at times. That’s why he kept the protein bars in his bedside table, something Suguru would never need to know about.

It's tempting, that destructive little part of his brain that says he doesn't have to play by the world's rules, or Satoru's rules--any rules that aren't his own. He hasn't in so many years, why would he start now?

Satoru's growling stomach distracts him, his own pleasantly full of cheese as he sits a little guiltily--well, he had offered Satoru some cheese. And fruit. It's not his fault if the other wouldn't pay enough attention to his body's hints. It's not his fault, no, but that doesn't mean he can't keep his friend company, he supposes. Suguru lays his automatic defensiveness down to rest, rises, and follows Satoru out like a shadow.

But that’s forever from now and Satoru’s hungry, glad that Suguru is willing to pick from any of the prepared options. Though he’s sure he’d be able to order delivery somewhere he likes the comfort of letting Suguru jump straight into his lifestyle. Satoru loves eating out, sure, but sometimes it’s easier to just pick from some premade options.

“Cool, I’ll heat it up.” Satoru mentally thanks his chef for knowing him and preparing dinner in microwave-safe containers. He takes out two portions before he hears Suguru talk about not wanting that much. For a moment he doesn’t think and brings both out to microwave, not caring about wasting a meal if Suguru didn’t finish.

Then the white haired sorcerer decides to put one back and take out two forks. He doesn’t really wasn’t a whole meal either, Satoru realizes, bringing the container out and setting it on the counter to cool down.

Maybe for someone that’s not Satoru Gojo that might mean that he suffered from low self esteem, but luckily Satoru did not know shame. He didn’t fear what others thought of him and how long he stared because he didn’t mind people thinking he was a freak. Suguru knew him even if they hadn’t spoken in years and knew what to expect. It was Satoru somehow that forgot the other’s eccentricities.

“You’re too kind.” Satoru reaches out to pinch at Suguru’s cheek. “I do not want your lukewarm hand cheese.” He can’t imagine a lifetime in which he would want to eat cheese out of someone else’s hand, even if it was his beloved best friend.

He thinks he’s finally put the cheese business to rest as Suguru waves his hand around, commanding furniture to be moved this way and that. Of course Satoru obliges, taking the chair from the corner and moving it to the west side of the wall and sliding the bed in the center of the room underneath the window, just like Suguru asks. Part of him believes that if he does everything perfectly Suguru will have no choice but to stay forever.

“Hm?” Satoru wipes at the beads of sweat at his brow. It was a little easier for him to get fatigued after dying so frequently, diminishing his infinite capacity to something a bit more finite. “Oh, yeah, looks good.” He leans against the dresser, waiting to see if Suguru wants him to make any more adjustments.

Suguru didn't like to think about the people they'd lost--the people they'd killed. It had been a lifetime ago by his estimates and, just as he'd said to himself all those years ago, there wasn't any point in looking backwards. Except he had, and he could feel the waves of despair that he'd been running from for years catching up with him. The energy in the room is whole again, and his chest aches with a dire pain.

"This is better." It is. Even in his suffering he knows that this is better. There's a smile from him, one less contrived than the toothy things he'd been flaunting all night. It's a smile that had, generally speaking, been reserved for Satoru. When he didn't want to be pleased with his friend, when he wanted to wallow and suffer in his silence and Satoru wouldn't let him. Soft at the corners, longing in the way his eyes settled on the other--with no attempt at concealment this time. "Thank you."

When Suguru confirms it out loud he can’t help but chuckle. After admitting defeat he’s finally able to have a win and maybe that’s what all of this is about. Maybe with some finality Satoru is able to let go of having absolute control over his life so that he can enjoy something for once. It feels good, smiling ear to ear as Suguru thanks him.

“You’re…welcome.” He couldn’t have uttered the phrase more than a hand full of times in his life, never to Suguru. He can’t help but stop us appreciate the depth they’ve both gone through to get to this point.

His stomach growls and he realizes he never had dinner. Satoru was too busy making sure everything was perfect that he forgot to eat which, with the less efficient regeneration, was something of a hinderance at times. That’s why he kept the protein bars in his bedside table, something Suguru would never need to know about.

Suguru speaks as though it’s obvious, whatever he meant by the bed being in a bad position. He thinks it’s weird that Suguru is so specific and he can see the essence of a red flag somewhere in the eternal depths of his cognizance but chooses to ignore it. “Sure.” Satoru agrees and it’s that simple. Just like he can ignore the cheese Satoru can just accept that Suguru’s always been a little strange with his habits.

It really doesn’t bother him, he’s not attached to the space in the slightest. Satoru has grown fond of the sparkle of the city at night but knows that he would be happy just about anywhere with Suguru. Maybe someday they’d live by the ocean or at least a bit closer to a nice beach. The older he grows the more Satoru understands the need to go south, craving the warmth of the equator. It must be something biological he thinks, wondering how long it would take them to migrate somewhere new. Maybe they’d even purchase property together, assuming that Suguru wanted to spend the rest of his life as roommates just like he did.

Suguru speaks again and he realizes Suguru means now, that he wants to move the furniture right now. Satoru’s more than willing to comply, pushing off of the doorway he was leaning on to enter the space more fully.

He's leaning on the dresser, snacking on his cheese, savoring the way they're softening up from the warmth of his hand. Considers that he could just make Satoru move the bed on his own--considers whether or not that would defeat the purpose. Considers whether Satoru would do it properly or if he'd just need to adjust it anyway. He would probably do it correctly--how could one improperly move a bed anyway, right? But it's Satoru, and he could just do it out of spite. Besides, he'd wanted to do it together.

"It's a pretty normal quantity of cheese, Satoru. Are you upset that I didn't give you any? Do you want some?" Yes, if he wanted to play with fire he could take the burn. The cheesy burn, from a fire set ablaze using all of the dairy based grease on his hands. Suguru holds one of those hands out, with a couple of hunks of cheese ready for the other. It's a choice to be made, take the hand cheese or not. It's something of a trap either way, for Satoru.

Because, if he's going to be shamed for his cheese, Suguru would prove that he had never once known what shame is. Or maybe, that shame isn't welcome in his home. It's another claim to stake, but he has to do so quickly--there are only a couple of cubes left in the handful, and he really does want to just move the bed already. But as willing as he was to bring the cheese into the bedroom, Suguru wouldn't be caught dead putting it down onto one of the clean, wooden surfaces. That, he knows, would be a true abomination.

The handful has dwindled to nothing as Suguru pops the final morsel in his mouth to chew considerately while he gets into position on one side of the bed. He gestures, unwilling to talk around his chewing, to try and coax Satoru into place. There are more efficient ways to be doing thing, for sure, but they're both plenty strong and it's not a difficult shift from against the wall to under the window. Minimal adjustments and Suguru swears he can already breathe more easily.

Maybe for someone that’s not Satoru Gojo that might mean that he suffered from low self esteem, but luckily Satoru did not know shame. He didn’t fear what others thought of him and how long he stared because he didn’t mind people thinking he was a freak. Suguru knew him even if they hadn’t spoken in years and knew what to expect. It was Satoru somehow that forgot the other’s eccentricities.

“You’re too kind.” Satoru reaches out to pinch at Suguru’s cheek. “I do not want your lukewarm hand cheese.” He can’t imagine a lifetime in which he would want to eat cheese out of someone else’s hand, even if it was his beloved best friend.

He thinks he’s finally put the cheese business to rest as Suguru waves his hand around, commanding furniture to be moved this way and that. Of course Satoru obliges, taking the chair from the corner and moving it to the west side of the wall and sliding the bed in the center of the room underneath the window, just like Suguru asks. Part of him believes that if he does everything perfectly Suguru will have no choice but to stay forever.

“Hm?” Satoru wipes at the beads of sweat at his brow. It was a little easier for him to get fatigued after dying so frequently, diminishing his infinite capacity to something a bit more finite. “Oh, yeah, looks good.” He leans against the dresser, waiting to see if Suguru wants him to make any more adjustments.

It was Geto’s apartment too, after all. They didn’t have to hang out together all the time and it was probably better for Satoru to decompress from everything in a separate room for a moment. The fridge door opens and he realizes he should probably plan a meal for them since Suguru’s staying. He would have to actually order groceries now too, a minor inconvenience that he would put off to one of his personal assistants. His regeneration kept him from feeling tired but Satoru needed a moment, breathing meditatively for a few seconds before he hears Suguru’s footsteps leaving the kitchen and fading into another room.

Where was he going? Once upon a time Satoru used to be the one that couldn’t sit through movies. He wonders what’s going on with Suguru and why he feels the need wander away. Maybe it was just that boring, maybe Suguru just wanted to find his own solution rather than being in charge of picking something to watch. Either way he gets up, not needing to just sit around and rewatch a movie he had little investment in.

Suguru calls for him and Satoru follows the echo coming from the hallway. All he’s ever known was chasing Suguru, even in his own apartment. He can’t help that his heart races a bit, nervous to see what he would find in the next room. Was it time for the other shoe to drop? He hasn’t been able to shake the lump in his throat since he’d received the gift two weeks ago. Satoru feels like he’s living in a horror movie, ears ringing as he walks cautiously down the hall to see the light on to the guest bedroom.

Well, to Suguru’s bedroom now.

“Do what?” The white haired sorcerer rpractically sings as he rounds the corner, surprised to see Suguru had brought cheese into the bedroom. Part of him wonders if he’s going to have to make sure they don’t get ants with Suguru living here but rationalizes that he’s never had ants. Maybe they were up too high for ants to live. Probably it was because of how much burnt he paid to have his place maintained and if he got ants someone would have to be replaced.

"No, I don't need us to move anything out yet. We haven't even bought the new furniture yet. But we have to move the bed." He points at it, as if the offense is obvious. And to him, it is. An obvous and clear offense, and one they can easily rectify. Together. Once he eats his tiny handful of cheese at least. Suguru pops a couple of cubes into his mouth and chews before speaking again, "My head needs to be under the window. Or it'll upset the flow of energy."

And even if Satoru fought him on it, even if he didn't want to help him, Suguru's pleased knowing that the other would come when he called. It had been isolation and a desperate feeling of being left behind that had driven the wedge between them years ago--and it's a feeling that hasn't fully left him even now. Because he'd run away in a ploy to prove he hadn't needed the other, to himself. Satoru didn't need him, or at least didn't seem to, so needing Satoru had felt like a failing. But one thing that had come with age was understanding that...not everyone needed to need him.

The other thing, the thing he'd started learning when he'd seen how direly alone the other man was, is that Satoru did need him. Even if it's something that would never be spoken aloud. It didn't need to be, it's them. It's the way Satoru would do anything for him, would do anything to have access to him again. And the way that Suguru couldn't get himself to do anything that didn't circle back to his closest friend. His only friend. "It won't take long, but I don't think this is something I can do by myself."

Suguru speaks as though it’s obvious, whatever he meant by the bed being in a bad position. He thinks it’s weird that Suguru is so specific and he can see the essence of a red flag somewhere in the eternal depths of his cognizance but chooses to ignore it. “Sure.” Satoru agrees and it’s that simple. Just like he can ignore the cheese Satoru can just accept that Suguru’s always been a little strange with his habits.

It really doesn’t bother him, he’s not attached to the space in the slightest. Satoru has grown fond of the sparkle of the city at night but knows that he would be happy just about anywhere with Suguru. Maybe someday they’d live by the ocean or at least a bit closer to a nice beach. The older he grows the more Satoru understands the need to go south, craving the warmth of the equator. It must be something biological he thinks, wondering how long it would take them to migrate somewhere new. Maybe they’d even purchase property together, assuming that Suguru wanted to spend the rest of his life as roommates just like he did.

Suguru speaks again and he realizes Suguru means now, that he wants to move the furniture right now. Satoru’s more than willing to comply, pushing off of the doorway he was leaning on to enter the space more fully.