#yeeets

          how beautiful the sky was, though it seemed almost unwilling to be so without witness — as though its brilliance sharpened only in the company of a trusted friend. more stars appeared eager to tune themselves toward their presence, pricking awake one by one, gathering like attentive listeners to a story spoken too softly for most to hear. their distant shimmer felt less like spectacle & more like recognition, constellations leaning closer, the galaxy itself breathing progressive & indefatigable in tandem with the air that pressed heavy into their lungs, constricted lungs, that is, as though even breath must pass through something unseen before it could reach him.

          there would always be a boulder resting upon satoru’s shoulders. not merely carried, but expected. atlas came to mind first, condemned to uphold the heavens themselves, though even that seemed almost merciful when compared to the cruelty of sisyphus — condemned to push endlessly, only to watch the weight slip from grasp each time the summit neared. perhaps he existed somewhere between the two, bearing the sky while knowing that should the burden falter even once, it would not simply fall — it would collapse, unravel, cascade into something irreparable. an inevitability disguised as responsibility.

          in all truth, they both harbored a shadow that did not simply follow, but resided. something clasped about their ankles like rusted iron, chains unseen yet ever-felt, drawing them inch by inch toward an unseen precipice. not opposing forces, but entwined ones… twin silences coiled together, light folding into dark & dark yielding gently to light, as though each could not exist without the other. a living balance, like yin & yang, neither wholly untouched, neither wholly consumed. if one were to drift too far toward that endless depth, gojo would not allow him to descend alone — he could not. for what is infinity without something to reflect against? what is light without a shape for its shadow to rest upon? their burdens did not merely mirror each other, they answered one another, ache recognizing ache in wordless understanding. should the hush of that longing attempt to claim them, then they would meet it side by side… surrendering not in defeat, but within the inexorable calm of two tides drawn by the same moon; the same pull, the same endless ache that calls them home.

          yet, in this moment, with salted air threading through the hollow cavern of his chest & wind slipping easily between pale strands of white, brushing against skin as though attempting reassurance, the weight dulled; not gone, never gone, but mitigated at its edges. the stars above did not demand strength from him, nor perfection, nor proof. they simply remained. unfathomable, observant, far-flung… & curiously benevolent. walks along the shoreline beside suguru brought him a placidity few could ever claim to offer him. one step forward — always another step forward — never retreating, never faltering, only forward, as though time itself permitted no reversal for someone like him. the silence shared between them was never unwelcome, never strained nor awkward; it did not demand filling, did not claw for attention. it simply existed, complete in its own right, a stillness that required no apology.

          suguru’s voice cleaved gently through that hush, & he inclined his ear toward him, patient, receptive, awaiting what followed. how sweetly it resonated … those beautiful blues sliding downward to settle along the lower left of his gaze, not turning — not until the tide allows — content to listen before allowing himself the indulgence of looking. the other continued recounting fragments of memory, moments gathered like shells along the tide, & it coaxed the faintest curve upon his lips. velveteen … like the slow withdrawing of water across their feet, the tide’s silent devotion lingering just long enough to be felt.

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