Suguru Geto || ★

Suguru Geto had always seemed, at least from the outside, like the kind of man people naturally gravitated toward.

There was something almost effortless about him.

In Japan, he had standards that many people considered exceptionally high. He was intelligent, composed, attractive, capable, and—perhaps most importantly—he knew exactly how to treat people with consideration without making a performance out of it. Suguru was polite without being stiff, attentive without being suffocating, and confident without constantly needing to prove himself.

Girls approached him often.

That was hardly surprising.

What was perhaps more impressive was that Suguru always knew how to reject them without humiliating them. He never laughed at their feelings or treated their interest as something annoying. Even when he clearly had no interest, he remained respectful.

There was always a polite smile.

A gentle explanation.

A refusal that was firm enough to leave no room for misunderstanding, but kind enough that nobody could accuse him of being cruel.

And then there was basketball.

Suguru played with the same calm confidence he seemed to carry everywhere else. He was incredibly good, not in the loud, attention-seeking way Gojo tended to be whenever there was an audience, but in a controlled, almost frustratingly natural way.

He understood the game quickly. His movements were calculated. His reactions were sharp.

People watched him.

People admired him.

At the academy, however, basketball was hardly the reason everyone knew his name.

Suguru Geto was one of the strongest students at Tokyo Jujutsu High.

His abilities were extraordinary, his control over cursed energy exceptional, and his reputation followed him everywhere. Together with Satoru Gojo, he was considered someone capable of reaching heights that most sorcerers could barely imagine.

If anyone had told you, before everything changed, that you and Suguru would eventually end up together, you probably would have laughed.

And yet, somehow, you had.

You were good together.

Not in an exaggerated or painfully obvious way. Both of you valued privacy, and neither of you felt the need to constantly prove the relationship existed to everyone around you.

But there were still things people noticed.

The way your hands occasionally found each other when you walked.

The brief kiss Suguru would press against your forehead before leaving for a mission.

The absent-minded way he would lean closer whenever you spoke in a crowded room.

The small kisses on your cheek.

The quiet smiles.

The way Suguru's expression changed—only slightly, but noticeably—whenever he looked at you.

And, perhaps most obviously, the way he seemed to unconsciously gravitate toward you.

Gojo noticed that more than anyone.

"Oh, this is pathetic."

You barely had time to look up before Gojo appeared beside you, his expression already filled with the kind of amusement that usually meant Suguru was about to regret existing within his field of vision.

"What?"

Gojo pointed behind you.

Suguru had been standing several metres away, speaking to someone moments earlier. Yet somehow, without anyone noticing when it happened, he had ended up directly behind you.

His arms casually settled around you from behind, his chin resting briefly near your shoulder.

Gojo stared.

"You're following them around."

"I'm standing here."

"Directly behind them."

"Coincidence."

Gojo stared at him in complete silence before suddenly bursting into laughter.

"Sure."

Suguru's expression barely changed, though the faint narrowing of his eyes made it clear that Gojo was only seconds away from receiving an insult.

You could never quite understand how Suguru remained so patient with him.

Or perhaps he simply understood Gojo better than anyone else did.

Gojo was particularly unbearable whenever girls approached Suguru.

"Geto-san, I was wondering if maybe—"

"I'm sorry."

Suguru's response was immediate but polite.

"I already have plans."

The girl looked slightly disappointed.

"Oh. With your friends?"

Suguru glanced in your direction.

Gojo immediately noticed.

His grin widened.

"Unfortunately for you, no."

Suguru sighed.

"I have plans with someone important."

Gojo made a noise of exaggerated disgust.

"Oh, disgusting."

"Gojo."

"You're unbearable."

Suguru ignored him.

The girl followed his gaze.

Then, almost immediately, understood.

Gojo started laughing again.

From the other side of the room, Shoko slowly exhaled.

"You two are exhausting."

Despite the tiredness in her voice, there was something almost affectionate behind it.

Shoko complained about both Gojo and Suguru constantly.

Especially when they were together.

But she liked seeing Suguru happy.

All of you did.

Those days felt almost unreal when you thought about them later.

The group together.

Gojo's constant noise.

Shoko's exhausted comments.

Nanami's increasingly obvious attempts to preserve his patience.

Haibara's warmth and optimism.

Everyone meeting whenever schedules allowed.

Sometimes it was something as simple as eating together.

Sometimes it was training.

Sometimes it was simply sitting around and listening to Gojo talk far too much.

At the time, you never thought to appreciate how temporary happiness could be.

Everything seemed so stable.

So ordinary.

So permanent.

Until that mission.

---

Something changed after that mission.

At first, you tried not to overthink it.

Missions went badly sometimes.

You knew that.

You had known from the beginning that being a sorcerer meant seeing things nobody should have to see.

But Suguru had always been able to continue.

He had always returned tired, perhaps quieter than usual, but still himself.

This time was different.

The mission had gone wrong.

You knew enough to understand that.

You knew that someone innocent had died.

You knew that Suguru had been exposed to something deeply disturbing.

What you did not understand was how much that mission had affected him.

At first, it was almost invisible.

His messages became shorter.

Then he began taking longer to answer.

Sometimes you would ask him how his day had been, and the answer would come after several minutes.

"Fine."

Nothing else.

You would ask if something was wrong.

"No."

You would ask if he wanted to talk.

"Not really."

And every time, you told yourself not to push.

Everyone needed space sometimes.

But Suguru began asking for space without ever actually asking for it.

He simply disappeared into it.

He stopped coming to certain gatherings.

He stopped staying after class.

He returned home immediately.

Sometimes Gojo would mention that Suguru had barely spoken the entire day.

Shoko noticed it too.

Everyone noticed something.

But nobody seemed to understand what.

You noticed the smallest things.

The way he no longer looked at himself in the mirror.

The way his hair remained tied back even when he was alone.

The way his room became increasingly neglected.

The way he sometimes stared at nothing for so long that you wondered whether he had even heard you enter.

Then came the weight loss.

That was when the concern became impossible to ignore.

One afternoon, Suguru's parents called you.

You had never heard that particular tone in their voices before.

Concerned.

Careful.

Almost hesitant.

"They're barely leaving the room."

Your stomach dropped.

"Have they said anything to you?"

You were silent.

Because the truth was that Suguru had not told you anything either.

"No."

The word felt terrible.

"Not really."

---

You remembered the bathroom at the academy.

The conversation you had tried so desperately to have with him.

Suguru stood near the sink, his arms resting against the counter. His face looked tired in a way you had never seen before.

Not physically tired.

Something deeper.

His eyes looked distant.

Empty, almost.

You had tried to keep your voice calm.

"You need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten properly."

"I said I'm not hungry."

His tone was sharper than usual.

You froze for a moment.

Not because Suguru had never been irritated before.

But because he had never spoken to you like that.

You watched him immediately realize it.

His expression changed slightly.

Not enough for most people to notice.

But you knew him.

There was guilt.

Brief.

Almost immediately hidden.

You stepped closer.

"Suguru, I'm not trying to annoy you."

"I know."

"Then talk to me."

Silence.

You looked at him.

Really looked at him.

The person standing in front of you was exhausted.

But Suguru refused to let himself admit it.

"You know that mission didn't go the way it was supposed to."

"I know."

"And someone died."

"I know."

His voice became quieter.

"Then you know enough."

"No."

Your answer made him finally look directly at you.

You shook your head.

"I know something happened. I know you're not okay. But I don't know what you're thinking because you won't let anyone near you."

His expression hardened slightly.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

Silence.

"You haven't been eating."

"I'm not hungry."

"You barely sleep."

"I'm fine."

"You avoid everyone."

"I'm fine."

Suguru's voice became sharper each time.

Not because he was trying to hurt you.

Because every question brought him closer to something he desperately did not want to face.

You stepped closer again.

"You don't have to be fine."

That was when something changed.

His jaw tightened.

"You don't understand."

"Then help me understand."

"You can't."

Suguru looked away.

His voice was quiet.

Almost tired.

"You can't understand."

The words hurt.

Not because they were cruel.

But because for the first time, Suguru was placing a distance between you that you could not cross.

---

The arguments began slowly after that.

They were never dramatic at first.

You would ask if he wanted to talk.

He would say no.

You would ask if he had eaten.

He would tell you to stop worrying.

You would ask where he had been.

He would answer that it did not matter.

And eventually, one of those conversations would become an argument.

"You can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Shutting everyone out."

Suguru laughed once.

There was no humour in it.

"I'm not shutting anyone out."

"You're shutting me out."

Silence.

That silence was answer enough.

"You barely talk to me anymore."

"I talk to you."

"No. You answer me."

His expression tightened.

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is that you're standing right in front of me, Suguru, and I still feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

For a moment, something crossed his face.

Pain.

Guilt.

Then exhaustion buried it again.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"The truth."

"And what exactly do you think that is?"

"I don't know!"

Your voice rose despite yourself.

You immediately hated it.

But you were scared.

Because you were watching someone you loved disappear in front of you, and you had absolutely no idea how to stop it.

"I don't know because you won't tell me anything."

Suguru stared at you.

For a second, he looked as though he wanted to say something.

Something honest.

Something that had been trapped inside him for far too long.

But then he looked away.

"Just leave it."

You felt your chest tighten.

"No."

Suguru's eyes returned to you.

"No?"

"No."

Your voice was quieter now.

"But I'm not going to pretend everything is fine when it clearly isn't."

For the first time, Suguru looked genuinely angry.

Not at you.

At the situation.

At himself.

At the fact that you were right.

"You can't fix this."

"I never said I could."

"Then stop acting like you can."

Silence filled the room.

The words hurt.

Suguru immediately realized that.

You saw it.

The regret.

The way his shoulders tensed.

But he was too emotionally exhausted to apologize properly.

And perhaps too afraid that apologizing would lead to a conversation he could no longer control.

You took a breath.

"I don't want to fix you."

Suguru remained silent.

"I just don't want to lose you."

For the first time, he had no answer.

---

You did not leave.

Not because you believed love alone could solve everything.

And not because you believed that staying meant ignoring the ways his behaviour sometimes hurt you.

You simply refused to abandon him because he was suffering.

You loved the version of Suguru who laughed quietly at Gojo's stupidity.

You loved the version of him who wrapped his arms around you without realizing he was doing it.

You loved the version of him who remembered everything you said.

But you also loved the person who existed underneath all of that.

Even when he was becoming difficult to reach.

Even when he was angry.

Even when he was distant.

You did not stop loving him simply because he was no longer easy to love.

---

It was Friday.

Gojo told you that Suguru had not attended class.

Again.

The concern in Gojo's voice was hidden beneath annoyance, but you knew him well enough to recognize it.

"He's probably just being dramatic."

Gojo paused.

Then his voice became quieter.

"Go check on him."

You did.

With permission from his parents, you entered the house.

The silence immediately felt wrong.

You slowly walked toward Suguru's room.

When you opened the door, the curtains were closed.

The room was dark.

There were clothes and books scattered across the floor.

Things that Suguru normally would not have left there.

He was lying on the bed.

His hair was loose.

His white shirt was slightly wrinkled.

Black trousers.

Barely moving.

For a moment, you simply stood there.

The sight of him made something inside you hurt.

This was Suguru.

The person who once seemed incapable of being overwhelmed by anything.

And now he looked as though even getting out of bed required more energy than he possessed.

Still, you tried to keep your usual warmth.

You approached the curtains.

"Good morning."

Suguru made a quiet sound of annoyance.

You smiled.

"It's the afternoon."

"Then go away."

His voice was muffled against the pillow.

You stared at him.

"That's rude."

"I don't care."

You blinked.

There was a brief silence.

Then, despite everything, you laughed quietly.

Suguru had always had a dry sense of humour.

But this wasn't humour.

This was exhaustion speaking.

You slowly opened the curtains.

Sunlight immediately entered the room.

Suguru reacted instantly.

"What the hell—"

He covered his eyes with one arm.

You laughed again.

"You're alive."

"Unfortunately."

The response made your smile disappear for half a second.

Suguru noticed.

His expression shifted.

Regret.

But before either of you could say anything else, he suddenly sat up.

Too quickly.

His face changed.

At first, you thought he was simply dizzy.

"Suguru?"

He stood.

Then immediately rushed past you.

You turned, startled.

"Suguru!"

He did not answer.

You followed him down the hallway.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the house.

Then the bathroom door opened.

Closed.

You heard him struggling to breathe.

You approached carefully.

"Suguru?"

No response.

You slowly opened the door.

And everything inside you stopped.

Suguru was on the floor beside the toilet.

His entire body was shaking.

His breathing was uneven.

His hair had fallen around his face.

He was visibly unwell.

The physical consequences of everything he had been forcing himself through had finally caught up with him.

The cursed spirits he had absorbed had always left a lingering disgust within him.

But recently, with exhaustion, stress, and the fact that he had barely eaten, his body was struggling to tolerate anything.

He had tried to eat.

Because you had asked him to.

Because some part of him had still listened to you.

But after neglecting himself for so long, even that had become difficult.

You moved closer immediately.

"Suguru."

He did not answer.

His shoulders shook.

For the first time since the mission, you saw him completely without his usual control.

There was no calm smile.

No composed expression.

No carefully constructed response.

No intellectual explanation.

Just Suguru.

Exhausted.

Shaking.

Unable to hide how badly he was doing anymore.

And then you noticed something that hurt even more than the state of the room.

He was crying.

Quietly at first.

Almost as though he was trying not to.

As though even now, when his body had already betrayed him, he was still attempting to maintain control.

You froze.

Not because you did not know what to do.

But because something suddenly became painfully clear.

You had been telling yourself that Suguru was distant.

That he was cold.

That he was avoiding you.

That he was slowly disappearing.

But now, looking at him on the bathroom floor, you finally understood something.

He had not been trying to leave you.

He had been drowning inside his own mind.

And nobody had realized how deep it had become.

You slowly crouched beside him.

You did not demand an explanation.

You did not ask him why he had not told you.

You did not tell him that you had warned him.

Instead, you carefully moved closer.

"I'm here."

Suguru's breathing shook.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, barely audible, his voice broke through the silence.

"...I'm tired."

Your chest tightened.

Because those two words were perhaps the most honest thing he had said in months.

Not fine.

Not nothing.

Not leave it.

Not you don't understand.

Just tired.

And in that moment, you finally understood what had happened.

That mission had not simply changed Suguru's mood.

It had fractured something inside him.

The person you had fallen in love with had not vanished.

Not completely.

But the version of Suguru you knew had been buried beneath exhaustion, grief, trauma, and thoughts he had been carrying alone for far too long.

And for the first time, sitting beside him in that dark bathroom, watching his hands shake and his carefully maintained composure finally collapse, you understood the truth you had been refusing to accept.

That mission had taken something from Suguru.

It had taken his certainty.

His peace.

His faith in the meaning of everything he had been doing.

And if nothing changed, it might eventually take him further away from you than either of you could imagine.