#jjkmagsummer

The electric buzz follows you home. When you waltz back into your house, an erasable smile plastered on your face, your mother fastens a hand to her hip and asks, "why'd you accept his proposal?" Her voice is witty, a familiar mirth shining in her eyes that matched yours.

You think for a second, eyes focused on a glass of lemonade. "You wouldn't understand." You reason, galloping to snatch the sugary drink and swallow it down.

All the same, your gaze never leaves the ring on your finger. It's plain; mainly the color of silver with a flower that sprouted long vines melted into the band.

But it's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

Though you're not sure if it's because of your clouded vision of adoration or it really is the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

Your mother turns away with a small sigh. Something about kids and love slips past her lips and paints the huge walls of your house with renaissance; an unveiled you and a teary-eyed Gojo. Something only you could see.

Adult brains are different from young ones, you decide. Of course she wouldn't understand.

She wouldn't understand why you were so madly in love with Gojo Satoru, the boy who lived next door.

—

Gojo divorces you a month later. He doesn't take the ring away and you're not sure if it hurts more or less. He gives a new ring to who everyone proclaims as the prettiest girl in grade three.

For the three weeks, two days and one hour (yes, you counted) that they're together, your best friend Rukia conveys every channel of gossip towards you. You're the first person to know of their marriage and the last person to know of their divorce.

"Honey! Satoru's here.” At first, you shoot straight up from your bed, mind racing with happiness. It'd been weeks since you've seen or talked to satoru. Albeit, when realization hits you square in the chest, you let out a scoff.

"Tell him to go back home!" But before you can finish your last exhale, he's barging in.

"I'm sorry."

Your heart seizes in your throat when you cast your eyes on his heaving figure.

"Did you run all the way here?" With a faltering smile he nods as he collapses on your blue fluffy carpet.

"Satoru, you have asthma."

"It was worth it." He confesses, intense blues gleaming with truth. (Looking back, a harbor of suspicion arises whenever you’re reminded how smooth the eight-year old was)

Self betrayal ensues; the words you’ve been dying to say to him slinks away to take refuge in the crevices of your room.

"Did you bring your inhaler?" You toss your covers away and grab his arm, leading him downstairs where dinner is laid.

“Yeah.”

—

“What are you thinking about?” Rukia questions. Without looking up, you can already see her signature pout. “We’re supposed to be talking. We haven’t done that in forever.”

It’d been three days total but one thing you’ve learned over the years was that Rukia’s words —no matter how implausible— were forever set in stone.

“Yeah, I know.” Distractingly, you agree, putting a fifth layer of lacquer on her nails.

“He came in second place at the nationals.” At her unexpected words, you suck in a confused breath. A few strewn puzzle pieces labeled with question marks wander through your mind. Your face must’ve shown it because she’s saying a name.

“I mean... Gojo.”

You chew at your lip. Not entirely sure how to react. But concretely, he was a subject of the past.

And his well-being didn’t matter to you.

“Good...for him?” You blink as a subtle frown settles on your lips.

Sensing your sour mood, Rukia tries to diffuse it. “Are you excited about the festival tomorrow?”

“I guess.”

It’s been years since you’ve actually gone.

The memories were laugh-worthy and filled your heart with nostalgia but going back didn’t seem as appealing.

“Come on, where’s that bright smile?” You can only give her a small one.

“It’s the Solstice festival. You were so obsessed with it as a child!” Rukia pressed on, forehead creased in frustration until it rests with realization.

“Is it because we always went with him?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly dismiss.

Rukia reaches over and grabs you by the shoulders and plants her face in front of yours. Words of indignation for her now ruined nails die down in your throat.

“Why are you letting him steal your happiness? It’s been four years [......], he’s probably forgotten all about you, you know.”

You wince at her words. Not because they were far-fetched but because it really was the cold, hard truth.

It starts there, the parasitic thoughts of one whom you've decided to forget. There's a possibility that it started before, but timelines are always meshed when you can't come to terms with events.

You don't eat dinner that night, the house is empty and mocking when Rukia leaves. Meals never tasted good alone. Your mother's working; a diner some hours away from home. The hours are grueling and not really fit for a woman of her age.

And if you could, you would take her place but whenever you propose the idea of shouldering some amount of her burden, she's shooing you away with a flick of her wrist.

She treats you like a child. Though it's not like you aren't but you're a breath away from the opposite of it.

And it hurts (an unbearable ache pinpointed somewhere in your chest) when you see her sprawled on the couch, too exhausted to move an inch.

Pathetically, the only thing you can do is curse your father (who ran off with some women when his own debt became too much for his poor soul) and the creators of fate.

"Honey?" Your mother's gruff but familiar voice cuts cleanly through your thoughts.

"Mom?" Your eyebrows furrow. "You're home early."

She shuffles towards you, her work shoes still on her feet. "I was let out early today." She plops down on your bed and throws you a small smile. Your gut clenches when you see her sunken eyes. "You're going to the festival tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Aw man." She sighs, and you can hear the impending layer of a story to come. "I remember when I used to take you three every year. You'd never eat any of the food but you always complained that you were hungry on the way home.”

You both chuckle, the light atmosphere making you dizzy with happiness.

“And Satoru would give you all his food..." She trails off, wistfulness woven in her tone. You purse your lips at the mention of him.

"You never did tell me what happened with you and Satoru." Your knuckles ache with how tight you’re clutching your covers.

"He uh...stopped talking to me when we um–" When you and your mother fell into debt, lost the big, bright house of your childhood and couldn’t afford living in Aoyama any longer.

"Oh." She breathes in, understanding already flooding through her expression. “Well things aren’t always meant to be, my dear.” She turns to you fully and places a palm over your cheek. Her warmth spreads through your veins and coats you in love. “You understand that, right?”

You nod.

“I love youuu.” She drawls, parting her hands from your cheek to display her jazz hands. “Bedtime story, anyone?”

“Mooomm.” You whine. “I’m almost eighteen, I don’t need bedtime stories anymore.”

"If you say so." She smiles wide. Her contagious air surrounds you and even though nowadays, seeing her so happy is unfamiliar, you smile too.

"Goodnight [......], have a great day at the festival." She reaches over to place a peck on your forehead. She smells of french fries and pie.

"I will, I love you mom."

She stands with a sigh, arms high to stretch. "I love you more." She leaves with a smile, cutting off your lights. You turn your head and snuggle further into your covers.

Unconsciously, your hand reaches for the object you've always kept beneath your pillow.

Skin touches cold metal. With still thoughts, you trace the engraved flower on the silver band till sleep takes you hostage.

—

You're not having a great time, is the only thing that repeats in your mind, strawberry kakigori in hand.

Rukia is late, your feet ache and it's too hot.

In the midst of your frustrations, your eyes catch a stand; 'balloon and dart' and you almost laugh at the nostalgia of it all.

"Brings back memories, right?"

"Yeah, it do–" Your words fall short, the voice strangely familiar.

"Satoru?" You question, voice high in disbelief. A few passerbys turn to give you an inquisitive stare.

You look up again, just for second measure. He looks almost exactly like he did when he was fourteen, just a few (way more than a few) inches taller.

He towers over you and even though he's got a simple shirt and jeans, you can see that he's no longer the scrawny boy he used to be. Corded muscle replaced just-there skin; basketball truly did him a favor.

A pair of dark sunglasses covered his eyes but you could still catch a faint hue of blue beneath them. They were too bright to miss.

"Satoru?" You repeat, an unfamiliar feeling washing over you.

He nods, a smile stretching over his face. "What? Can't believe it's me?" He's more bold now it seems. He's always been outspoken but now he has a different air. You want to know why but you stop yourself from staring at him for too long.

You both weren't friends anymore. Strangers. You both were strangers.

As if hearing your thoughts, he cocks his head to the side."You're so timid now. Way different from back then." You stop yourself from scoffing. He's way different from back then.

You can't tell if it's the heat or new-found anger but something wells up in your chest and it's nearly suffocating.

"It was nice seeing you Gojo but I have to go. Rukia's waiting for me." You point at a random location, the lie feels bitter on your tongue.

"Gojo...what happened to Satoru?" It's later than normal but you notice how deep and grounded his voice has gotten. In the past, his words always had a crack or two.

With an internal shake of your head, you dismiss your thoughts. He's not even alarmed by the mention of Rukia, his former arch enemy.

"Um…." You try to grasp at any plausible answers.

"[......]." He places a hand on your shoulder. You have the urge to shake it off. "I know we haven't talked in a long time but did I do something?" You blink, once, twice.

"Something to upset you?" The only thing you can do is stare. You hated confrontation, hated any situation that could lead to conflict but moments like these were unavoidable.

"Are you serious?" You shuffle closer to him but before you can jab your finger in his chest and let out years upon years of words you've been yearning to convey, a strike of thunder flits through the sky.

Then rain begins to pour.

—

"Oh." You tilt your head down in shame. "So you didn't stop talking to me because I..."

Satoru shakes his head with vigor. "No, of course not. I will admit that I lost your contact information but I would never stop talking to you just because you had money problems."

It's silent for a while. The sound of rain is low and distant in the empty food truck you both are in. The smell of yakitori is apparent.

"That's good." You nod, a shaky smile on your lips. You let out a shaky exhale and try to ignore the track of tears on your cheeks. "Sorry...for assuming."

Satoru turns to you, alarmed. "Woah. I didn't mean to make you cry." His glasses are long gone and you can see the concern in his artic eyes. "W-why are you crying?" His nose scrunches up in frustration. Something he does when he's not too sure how to solve a problem.

"I'm just happy." This time, your smile is wide. "Just happy." He places a palm on your cheek to wipe your tears away. His hand is big and warm; your heart lulls dangerously.

"[......]?" His gaze is still on you. In some way, it makes you nervous. "Remember what I asked you when we were kids?"

"You asked me a lot of things when we were kids…. I think the weirdest one was when you asked to compare nippl–"

"Okay." He deadpans. You can only let out a laugh. When he hears it, his eyes soften and he's back to asking.

"With the ring?" The puzzle pieces conjoin.

"When you asked to marry me?" Your eyes widen.

He nods.

"We just reunited, we're not getting married."

A furious blush spreads across his cheeks. "You've always been a sarcastic little shit, huh?"

"Likewise."

"I was going to ask —very smoothly may I add, if you wanted to start at the first stage?"

"First stage as in…."

He pinches at your cheeks and groans. "Be my girlfriend."

"Okay."

"That quick?"

"I mean—take me on a date first…." He rolls his eyes. "But yeah, I'd like to be your girlfriend."

Satoru doesn't say anything for a second or so and you're convinced that you've said something wrong.

"Since you're like– my future girlfriend, can I kiss you?" This time it's your turn to be flustered. Sensing your state, he raises a pale eyebrow. Your ears feel like they've been lit aflame.

Not trusting yourself to be coherent, you shrug.

With that, he's cupping your jaw and pulling in. Your eyes flutter shut, skin buzzing with excitement. In due time, his nose brushes past your own.

He smells like rain and pine, a contrast of younger him always smelling like candy. Now, his lips are a hairsbreadth away from touching yours. A part of you wished to have put on a layer of chapstick earlier or maybe a stick of gum or—

"Out!" A voice rings, accompanied by a thud. Both of your heads whip to the side. A man, who you guessed to be the owner of the food truck stands in front of the open window.

"Out of my truck. Go smooch in front of the fireworks or something."

Gojo grabs your hand, an apology leaving his lips, lips you were supposed to kiss. "Sorry sir. Bye sir." The man's glare follows you two as you leap from the truck door. Thankfully, there's no more rain.

You snicker lowly at Gojo's speed. "What's funny? That was not funny."

"It was kind of funny." Your eyes trail down and lock on to your hands that were in his own. Your heart beats at a crazy pace and your veins are injected with the fever of giddiness.

It's still hot and stuffy, the humidity practically clogging your lungs but it's cleared with every laugh that escapes your lips.

You let out a dozen sorry's and excuse me's when your shoulder bumps into someone else's. The sound of crackling getting closer.

"Okay, here." You both skid to a stop. Gojo places his hands on his knees and breathes in and out at an alarming rate.

"Woah." Your eyes look up in wonder, not bothered by Gojo's heaving figure. You shuffle closer and drape your arms around the railing separating you from water.

There's a plethora of colors in the sky, all reflecting on the lake. A hiss echoes and another color explodes in the air. This time it's orange, nearly fiery with the way it contrasts with the neutral sky.

"Alright, attention away from the fireworks. Put your attention on me, please. I almost died from an asthma attack."

He doesn't wait for your snarky reply, his face already centimeters from your own. Orange clashes with blue and for a second, you feel caught in a standstill. Your breath too, it's caught in your throat and you ground yourself by holding on to his arms.

Satoru's beautiful and you can't believe that he's yours.

"I can kiss you?"

"Yes, I already said yo–" Eager lips slot against your own, impending words stolen away. His lips are as soft as they look. He tastes like melon syrup; the kind used for kakigori.

Gojo's a good kisser but honestly you didn't expect any less. When the kiss deepens and cold, sweet soaked tongues meet, he's pulling you impossibly closer. The loud buzz of fireworks is lost and the bubble Satoru shrouds you in can't be touched.

"Nice." Is the first thing you say when your lips part.

He raised an eyebrow. "Just nice?" His breath tickles your cheeks.

"More than nice." You redirect your gaze to the blazing sky. "That's all you're gonna get."

He hums. It's silent for a while but it's the comfortable kind. You're still close to his hard chest. Your body has no choice but to feel warm and serene.

"Shit." An uproar of realization hits you square in the chest.

"What?"

"Rukia. I forgot all about Rukia."

"Oh, I didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"She planned all of this..."

"What?" You look up bewildered.

He laughs at your stricken expression. "I figured it out when she told me to come to the festival and she didn't show up."

You purse your lips. "She's so sneaky." But you can't find it in you to actually be mad at your best friend. So, you send her a little prayer of thanks.

"Satoru?"

"Mhm."

"The night is still young, let's kiss some more."

"And here I thought you were shy." He shakes his head but doesn't decline. Again, like you wanted, Gojo graces your lips with his own.

—

Tonight, the sun will reach its maximum declination. Entangled souls are to let go of the past and make changes from within.

And in the midst of it all, a long lost flame will be rekindled.