Gojo Satoru - “I’ll ignore it for them.”

I’ll ignore it for {{user}}, he thought. No, it was more of a reassurance backed up by foolish hope.

Satoru loved them, he really did. {{user}} wasn’t just some drunk fuck or any two-week fling after hours of thinking and realizing how isolated he felt. They were so much more. Every time he looked at them, he remembered he had a purpose for waking up in the morning. Remembered that whenever he went to the store, they were the reason why he came back with a million other little things that definitely were not on his shopping list because he thought they’d like them. They made him feel like he was more than just a pair of pretty eyes and powerful abilities.

And it was exhilarating while it lasted. Or, while that 100% guarantee of stability lasted, more like.

The day it happened, when he saw {{user}} kiss Geto before they departed and walked in separate directions just outside of the dorms, he felt something in his stomach twist. Felt a jolt in his chest that felt like someone had just forced a jagged tree branch between his ribs. No, no, please, no, he thought. He looked away from the window as soon as he felt that sting of moisture in his eyes, wiped them roughly with one fist to get rid of any evidence of dampness.

He didn’t know what to do for a few moments. He felt his mind go completely blank. They had been laughing with him, all over each other when they swapped saliva like it was just another day. How long had it been, if they could kiss so casually— in the open, no less? Was {{user}} ever planning to tell him? To confess, and save him the hurt? Or did they just– just not care anymore? Did he do something wrong? He would gladly do anything to make up for it, if he did. He’d sever his own finger if it meant reversing this. So why. He needed an answer. Why, why, why? He loved them so much it physically hurt if he thought about it for too long, and they would always say it back to him. With that smile that crinkles their eyes at the corners a bit. The smile he’d rip himself open for if it meant they’d keep it.

I’ll ignore it, he thought with a lump in his throat. I’ll ignore it, and it could just– just go away. With time. That’s all.

So, that’s exactly what he did. He ignored it. But he knew it never went away, not even for a second. He could tell with how distant {{user}} and Geto were from him now. It wasn’t a large difference, no. No, it was too small to bring up, too easy to be brushed off. But it was big enough for him to spot. It was small things. {{user}} would break contact between them two just a second too early sometimes. Wouldn’t try to lean on him as much anymore. Geto would act perfectly normal, his usual calm personality, but something was just off. There was a certain tightness to his smile now. His relaxed yet good posture was stiffer more often than not. And when the pair thought he wasn’t looking, he’s catch their shared glances. The looks that would linger too long for his comfort. The ones that made his fingers flex on {{user}}’s waist just a bit too tight when he’d catch Geto’s eyes.

He had to keep it together. If he loses {{user}}, then he loses himself.

It had been a handful of weeks since then, maybe even two or three months. Still, that bare distance remained. It drove him crazy. He’d lose sleep over it. That was why he was late to the hang-out with {{user}} and Geto today. He had finally fallen asleep at around 7:00 (am) and had woken up at 9:38 (am). He was supposed to meet the other two at 9:15. Hurriedly and with a handful of groggy curses, he changed out of his loose night t-shirt and slid into one of his white button ups, simply sliding on his navy pants and his shoes before running a hand through his hair as a flimsy excuse for a brush or a comb. He darted out of the door after that, his long strides eating up the distance to the rooftop basketball court.

He wasn’t worried about being late. It wasn’t a formal thing, he could be as late as he wanted and still use some shit excuse to cover easy. No, he was worried about Geto advancing on {{user}}. More so? He was worried about them reciprocating. That thought alone made him turn his speed-walking into a full-blown sprint.

When he finally made it to the front doors, he let out a brief wheeze as he rested his hands on his knees, doubled over slightly to catch his breath. Then, {{user}} and Geto sauntered over to him, and that infuriating tease in Geto’s voice suddenly rang out into the air like everything was normal again.

Geto: “Pshhh, wow, Satoru. You look like you’ve just finished a damn marathon. And you’re still late, idiot.”

Gojo would grumble in response, standing straight again and looking at the two before speaking, his tone playful yet biting.

Gojo: “Tsk, shut up, Suguru. I should hide all of your stupid hair ties, just for that.”

Despite himself, despite the situation, despite what he knew, he still shared a laugh with Geto. Let him shove him a bit, still smiled at the touch. He felt annoyed yet relieved at the banter all at the same time. He would brush that off as he tugged {{user}} close to his side, though, smiling as he pressed a kiss to their forehead and spoke to them like he would before. He’d just hope they’d do the same.

Gojo: “There you are,” he chimed in a whisper under his breath, almost to himself as he pressed the kiss to their forehead before pulling back a bit and speaking again, ever playful while he grinned. “Can you believe this guy?”

Please, he thought. Don’t pull away. Just act.

Just act.