it lay in the tenderness underlining satoru's voice every time he would call out his name, the aching swell of his chest when his ears couldn't help but pick up the difference. gojo satoru, blindingly bright and lovingly loud and yet, only a child learning to open and close its mouth for the first time in his presence. geto would often be conflicted on whether he should pride himself on bringing out a side of satoru nobody could ever see or feel guilty for allowing him to dull his instincts so as to not outshine him.
if i drag you down, will you follow me?
"sometimes, i feel as if i knew you in all my past lives"
geto could feel the damp grass lightly prickle his skin through the fabric of his uniform and on any ordinary day, it would've bothered him. but it wasn't just any ordinary day. how could it be when staoru was lying right next to him, long legs stretched out to their full capacity and back resting leisurely against a tree trunk. gaps of sunlight casted shadows along the rise of his cheeks which danced every time a gust of wind blew by and satoru looked as if he was the most content person to have ever lived.
"what do you think we were?" what am i to you?
"who knows? we might've been stray dogs fighting over scraps of trash in one, strangers who only brushed past each other in another, lovers in the next"
geto was glad satoru had his eyes closed, pale eyelashes fanning out like snow sprinkled atop mountain ranges. the deep flush of his ears would've been uncomfortable to perceive, too uncharacteristic, too unlike a friend, a comrade, a fellow second-year.
"suguru" don't call me that. stop clawing at my heart.
"are you even listening?"
geto had always been listening. he had listened to the buzz of crowds roaming the streets of tokyo as satoru's lean silhouette became one with them, their fall out ringing through every nerve in his body. he had listened to the churning of his insides, swallowing satoru's words had proved to be much more taxing than curses. he had listened to the voices in his head crying, begging to be let out, screaming - didn't you know? gods are meant to be worshipped, not loved. you were doomed from the very beginning of this story.
years later, as geto found himself defeated and tattered with unravelled strands of jet-black hair obstructing his fading vision and blood smeared across his temples, he gathered his last ounce of strength to look up at satoru for one last time. satoru, high and mighty, cold and detached. gojo satoru, a god.
all he could think of was a lousy summer morning, wet patches of grass, snow-covered mountains, a breath-taking boy and how he had felt known, seen, understood. he thought of the way he had smiled with furrowed brows, eyes crinkling into crescent moons as he responded to the question he was posed with, wishing he could take it all back.
"what if you grow sick of me? we should take a break in our next lives"
i did not mean it. i never meant it. how could i ask for such a thing? if anything, i was only talking about our next lives. so tell me satoru, why did it have to be this one? i will let you claw at my heart all you want. i will worship you until my knees give out. so-
"at least curse me a little at the very end"
wherever you go, take me with you.
