cw: death, grief, post-Shinjuku
December 24, 2018.
A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and fell onto Satoru's face.
His eyes were closed, and your hand rested on his forehead, his hair snow-white as always, yet dotted with small, dried specks of blood.
Your thumb caressed his skin, and you sniffled before lowering yourself until you pressed your lips to his forehead.
"It's not fair," you whispered. "You didn't even make it to thirty."
You leaned back and brushed your palm over his eyelids. Yuuta had pieced his body back together, but there was nothing to be done for his soul and mind.
"Gojo-sensei has passed on," Yuuta told you, fighting back quiet tears. "I tried. I couldn't save him. I'm sorry."
"I didn't even get to say goodbye." It was difficult for you to speak through hiccups, snot and tears. "I wasn't even able to tell him he was loved."
You closed your eyes, one hand in his white hair, the other resting on his arm. You were grateful that Shoko had been able to give you some time alone with him, as you knew the Gojo Clan wanted to bring Satoru's body back to Kyoto for his funeral and the reading of his will.
"It's not fair," you repeated, teary eyes opening once more. "It's not fair. I want to bring you back, but I know you'd hate me if you came back as anything other than yourself."
You were selfish when it came to Satoru, but you couldn't bring him back with a Binding Vow. What if he returned as a Cursed Spirit? Or something else that was no longer him?
Yes, there was a voice in the back of your mind that was pushing you to bring Satoru back with everything you could, but...
"I'm sorry." Your voice broke. "I love you, Satoru."
You Were Loved.
