#self image

Ever since you moved into his city after a while of being long distance friends, you’ve came up with the idea of hosting dinner just for the two of you once every week, taking turns on whom’s place it would be at.

Now its time for your friend to come over for a shared meal, which wouldn’t be a big deal except for the fact your house has an… unusual look to it.

The first time Gojo stepped foot into your place, he was amused to see almost half of your furniture covered with a cloth. Your tv and glass table draped with a large enough cover on top, shielding them away out of sight.

“Should I be expecting a grand reveal soon, orrrrr what exactly?” His tone rings light, stepping closer to skim his fingers over the covered surface.”Are these going for auction?” He teases further, genuine curiosity in his studying eyes, peeking a little under the draped cloths.

You snort from the kitchen, using more time than you had anticipated. Great, now you’d have to cut onions in his presence”

He’s like a cat curiously sniffing at new grocery bags, sticking his nose in every place that fits him, wanting to know more about you. Soon, he’s entering all your rooms, checking for anything that would entertain him while you’re busy cleaning and chopping at the veggies.

“Its starting to be more of an ‘abandoned house aesthetic’ than anything now” His voice carries from your bathroom, tone never unkind.

He must have seen the covered mirrors, then.

Slipping back into your livingroom open to the kitchen area, his feet marches softly over to where you’re standing, your back to him. “I don’t think we agreed on specific themes for the dinner.” He draws out, tone soft as he moved slowly to stand beside you, eyes focused on the way you handle the knife on the cutting-board.

“Mind telling me what’s behind this?” Gojo knew you didn’t like facetiming, despite how much he said he missed you and wanted to see his friends face –he had to grow used to it, filing it as simple as the fact that some people just dont do well with facetimes.

But seeing every reflective surface of your house getting covered – and only the reflective ones – it raised some eyebrows along with some internal bells.

Leaning closer, his head tilting slowly to the side, white fluffy hairs falling over to the other side as he twists his neck in attempt to get your attention back on him. “Do you hate wiping dust off this badly?”

The implication was there; he’s giving you an opening without making you feel like a liar for leaving out such a visible detail and part if you. He’s giving you control over the situation.

You don’t dare look Gojo in the eye, not now when he has you cornered like that. His gentle tone and careful body language does little to ease the twisting balls of sharp wire in you, digging into your stomach at every passing second you let his question hang in the air unanswered.

He calls out your name, his voice quiet and low, tone so soft it could count as a whisper.

But you’re not listening right now, your grip around the cutting knife growing tighter, cutting at the onions you should’ve diced long before his arrival. God, it stings your eyes so bad it only makes the need to cry that much stronger.

“Hey,-” His warm, large hand rests on one of your shoulders, fingers tightening slightly around your shirt. He noticed your shift in demeanour, the fact you haven’t yet said anything since he stepped in and commented on the covered furnitures. He felt like an idiot fir not questioning it or noticing earlier. His friends are someone very dear to his after all, and you among the dearest.

“Hey, please, talk to me” he shuffles closer, his chest now glued to your side, careful fingers slowly peeling the knife out of your tight grip, coaxing your fingers to loosen on the handle.

Putting it aside, he gently cups your face in his palms, fingers absorbing the heat burning in your cheeks from embarrassment.

“Angel? Please, will you tell me?” He pleads this time at seeing that fearful look in your eyes, watching you search his face with your flickering eyes for any negative reactions.

“Do you not wish to see yourself?” He prompts you to talk, questioning. You take the bait, figure the least you owe this sweet man is a proper answer.

Shaking your head, you huff out a smal chuckle, wavering a little too much for it to be even half believable. Your brows pinching softly in internal panic and worry making any attempt at a smile less believable.

Especially to someone who knows you so well.

Gojo brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, motion slow and gentle, eyes still pleading with yours. So you fess up.

“No… not really. Actually, not at all. But its kinda hard to admit that to myself out loud let alone to someone else” you rush the words out before you have the time to swallow your words back in regret.

Gojos eyes soften, his eyebrows lowering into their relaxed state. The affection on  that mans face is starting to get overwhelming. “But I’m not just anyone, am I, angel?”

Your heart aches a little at the way you worded things. But you didn’t even have time to let yourself think of polishing your words before spitting them out, knowing that if you stop to think of what you’re saying, the words would never actually slip free from you. Gojo would never get the explanation he deserves.

“Gojo, come on, I know you have a good sight. You see the way i… am.” You motion with your hands down to your body. “How I look.” You add, flat and curt, the edges of your words sounding defeated.

Gojos eyebrows pinches softly together, a row of white hairs bunched up together in a serious expression. He loons a little scary like that, actually. “What are you saying? Are you hearing yourself speak?”

He leans his head closer, tiucging his forehead to yours, praying to God for strength and wisdom to show you your actual worth.

“God, angel, you have no clue” you sigh, yet close your eyes nonetheless, letting his warm breath fan over your face, letting that be your anchor.

“If anything, you’re stupid, not ugly or fat or weird looking or whatever it is you or others have engraved in your head” He breathes out, tone heavy with weight.

Pulling away slowly, Gojo keeps his bright blue’s on yours, looking conflicted.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” He asks, whispering. “Did you deem your worries unworthy? Or perhaps render me someone who would view you the same harsh, cruel way you see yourself?”

Your mouth opens to say something, more self-degrading adjectives wrapped as 'fac’s' and ‘reality’. Gojo stops you before yiu say anything else that would break his heart more.

“No. No negative talk, I don’t tolerate you looking down at yourself in that way, not when you’re my friend” his thumb keeps rubbing over your cheeks, moving slow over every little texture there is you hate, being gentle with the parts you hate most about yourself.

“You know I love every squishy and hard inch of you, weather you think that’s smart or not” his fingers tighten a little on your face, pinching your cheeks lightly.

“You’re annoying when you wont even accept my words. Its unfaur to listen only to yourself, you know” he brushes over your cheeks one last time before he shifts slightly, giving you your personal space back.

“Now, pretty lady, I’m starving, and im dying to try out the food from within your haunted house core of yours” And his lighthearted tone is back, easing the knots in your stomach bit by bit, with Gojo hanging around you like a curious cat. Hes useless, but compensates with his humour. So maybe its fair after all.

You love that annoying, curious cat.

Daizzzy ᝰ.ᐟ