December 24th, 2017 (the end of all things)

by kaeyafluent

Summary:

The dark haired man laughs softly, a quick chuckle more like and his face relaxes.

Then he smiles.

He smiles and Satoru's breath catches so fucking painfully in his throat because it's him, for just a moment he's his Suguru again, the years and distance melting away and it's just his former classmate, friend and lover in front of him just like before everything happened.

Chapter 1

This is the end, he knows it, and he knows that he knows it.

His best friend, his one and only.

This chase, this catch and release is finally coming to it's finale, and whether he's relieved or heartbroken he's not entirely sure. 

Suguru is cornered, slumped in a shitty alleyway and staring at the ground ahead of him. (Satoru can't help but hope it's because he feels unworthy to look at him, that maybe, just maybe he's realizing how wrong he's been. That, perhaps he's coming to his senses, that he'll change.) Blood oozes from his right side where his arm is entirely missing, he looks ashen, broken, tired.

A ghost and shell of the man he used to be.

The jujutsu sorcerer side of Satoru is glad he's finally getting what he deserves, that he's finally feeling at least some of the hurt and suffering he's caused so many. But the human part of him is aching for his best friend, his school lover.

Yet, he knows he shouldn't drag this out.

"Any last words?"

His eyes burn, but he won't let the tears fall. At least, not yet, no they'll be released later when he's alone and he can cry himself raw, head pounding from all the screaming he's going to do. He digs a corner of the student ID Suguru had just returned into his palm, the slight pain enough to distract him momentarily from all of the confusing feelings swirling inside, disorienting and choking him.

Suguru is quiet for a few moments and his heart sinks because maybe he won't speak again, maybe silence will be what he leaves behind. 

"No matter what I'll always hate those monkeys.."

He pauses and Satoru rolls his eyes in annoyance, god why does he call them that? But, at the same time, he's ashamedly relieved that he's said something.

"But it's not like I hate everyone at Jujutsu Tech."

His tone is strangely wistful and Satoru selfishly hopes he's included on whatever list of people he still cares for.

Or at least, doesn't hate.

"It's just that in this world.."

His words have started coming to him slower compared to the ranting he'd done when he'd first found him, as he's now clearly struggling to find the right ones and he really has to think them over. 

The blood loss is getting to him, making him sluggish.

"I couldn't truly be happy from the bottom of my heart."

Even with me, you weren't happy?

His heart falls and his blood feels like ice as he shoves the ID into his pocket.

"Suguru."

He doesn't mean for his voice to sound so final, ringing out like a weapon being dropped in an empty hall, clattering and ricocheting off the walls.

Suguru's head whips to face him for the first time in minutes, dazed eyes having trouble focusing on him, but his face quickly takes on a nearly "deer in the headlights" expression as he gazes up at his executioner. 

He's minutes from death, whether I kill him or not, this is truly the end.

The dark haired man laughs softly, a quick chuckle more like and his face relaxes.

Then he smiles.

He smiles and Satoru's breath catches so fucking painfully in his throat because it's him, for just a moment he's his Suguru again, the years and distance melting away and it's just his former classmate, friend and lover in front of him just like before everything happened.

His Suguru, who loved zaru soba a little too much and who ordered sweets he didn't like so Satoru would finish them. Suguru whose hair was so thick that he'd snapped so many hair ties Satoru started wearing one on his wrist, and kept a fresh pack in his pocket in case that first one broke too. Suguru who liked finding orange flowers to tuck behind Satoru's ear, "To compliment your eyes" he'd whisper before giving him a gentle kiss to his blushing cheek.

His Suguru that knew his body better than he could ever hope to, the way he made him feel, the noises he pulled out of him time after time. He'd never felt more whole than when his lover tore him apart and put him back together again, worshipping his body after wrecking it in the best ways. His kisses, his hands, him. It was all too perfect.

They were perfect.

"We're the strongest."

Suguru who always had gum or candy on hand for Satoru, and who always carried a lighter with him for Shoko, his hand shielding her cigarette from any wind so she could get a quick light. Suguru who helped him watch over and guide their underclassmen, Haibara and Nanami. Suguru had even helped Nanami open up and come out of his shell a little, they'd shared a lot of the same taste in music so they quickly became close friends, often jamming together instead of studying. 

His Suguru whose nose twitched in his sleep, and whose voice sounded heavenly in the morning. Suguru who liked his coffee as dark as his hair, and teased Satoru for drinking "creamer with a splash of coffee." His Suguru who halfheartedly complained about just how sugary Satoru tasted after eating cereal, to which he'd always reply "Don't kiss me then!" "Never." He'd rumble softly before devouring him again.

Suguru whose hand fit perfectly in his, and fuck there was nothing quite like how he fit in his arms, or the way he'd play with his snowy hair to help him fall asleep.

His resolve slips for the briefest of seconds, his heart screaming that he could, no, should run away with him and patch him up, they could be happy! It could be like it once was and they could forget about everything that's ever happened, he could easily carry him as he transports them both somewhere far away.

But then the rationality kicks back in just as fast, and the mental whiplash is almost too much. He knows that he was never enough, why would he be now? He'd just slither out of his grasp again to do more damage so he has to end it now, like he should have years ago when he'd first had the chance.

Everything is crashing down around him and it's just a fucking mess.

Maybe, in another lifetime things would've been different.

"You should at least curse me.. At the end."

The man's voice is haunted as he quietly begs for atonement, the words sapping an enormous amount of energy from him. His head sags forward again, muscles growing weaker the longer this drags on.

He wouldn't, couldn't curse him even if he wanted to. He'd been forced to swallow so many curses, why would he curse him, even if he wants it? But, he's a glutton for pain and so he wants to give him something that won't hurt him, but rather himself.

He kneels in front of the man who'd held his heart for so long, and still does even if in a drastically different way than before. He's always been his for better or worse in a way, after all.

"I'm gonna marry you one day Satoru, mark my words."

Shaking the memory from his head he places trembling hands on either side of his face, gently supporting and guiding his head up. A thumb tenderly working to wipe as much of the blood off his cheek as possible, because his Suguru is still in there somewhere and he hated blood. Suguru's once vibrant, velvety purple eyes, are now so dull they almost look as black as his hair and they don't focus on him even though he's inches from him. 

He wonders if he can even see at all.

"Hi."

It's so soft Satoru barely recognizes his own voice as he says it, but it's enough to keep the attention of the wilting man in front of him, his head ever so slightly tilting up just a little more in the direction of his voice.

"Can I kiss you, one last time Sugu?"

He knows he shouldn't ask, he's barely coherent and he's seconds away from death, he's wasting precious time. However, it would feel so wrong to not kiss him after so long, but he needs some sort of sign that he wants this. He would never just take his last kiss from him.

His answer is Suguru's eyelids drifting closed as he slowly nods once.

He doesn't waste a second more as he closes the distance between them, softly pressing his lips to the only ones he's ever kissed, the only ones he ever wanted to kiss.

Satoru wasn't prepared for him to feel the same as he always did, his lips soft beneath his own and his nose gently pressing into his cheek. It's all too familiar, and yet so incredibly foreign. 

Because instead of his lover messily returning his kisses, his touch in heated passion, his lips tremble as he does his best to reciprocate. (He feels a small flash of pride, of happiness that Suguru still wants to kiss him back after all this time.) And it's cold, so cold. His lips are like ice, and as Satoru breathes in just a little to silence the screaming of his lungs and the painful thumping of his heart, he catches the sickly sweet metallic tang of the blood Suguru's lost.

It makes Satoru nauseous and a thick lump forms in his throat.

He breaks the kiss when Suguru pulls back to breathe, and Satoru shatters when he hears how just labored his breathing is now, fuck he's so selfish to take some of his last breaths from him.

He pulls back just enough to look at his face, just one more time. Suguru must feel him staring, because a tiny smile creeps onto his face. Though he's surely suffering and in unbelievable amounts of pain, his face is calm, serene even. 

He looks almost at peace.

"Love you.. Toru."

Fuck, he thought he'd never get to hear Suguru call him that again, or that he still loves him. His heart skips a beat, just like it always did when they were together in school and for just a second, it's like nothing ever changed, because it feels like he's just kissed his sleepy boyfriend goodnight, not goodbye.

"I love you, always will."

His groggy smile gets a little bigger at hearing those words, and Satoru finds himself softly mimicking it. His breath is starting to rattle now, lungs no doubt filled with blood as he drowns in his own body. He places a hand over his heart, the beat is very slow, so incredibly weak.

But he'll be damned if he doesn't get to feel his last heartbeat before it stops completely.

"Finish.. It."

He wheezes out his last words and Satoru steels himself, he's not going to keep him here or let him hurt any longer. 

It's like a bandaid, I've just got to rip it off.

"It'll be really quick," His throat is painfully tight as he tries to give his love a heads up of sorts, emotions nearly choking him as they lodge firmly in his esophagus and make speaking harder than it already was. "I'll be as gentle as I can, I promise."

His voice is barely above a whisper now, but Suguru heard it and nods once, his lips forming silent words, "I know.. I trust you." He trusts him, even after all these years and in the face of a death that Satoru will momentarily bring him. He takes a deep, steadying breath and instantly releases it. 

He gently kisses Suguru again as he flicks the middle finger of his free hand not over his heart, hoping the touch of his lips helps soften any pain he might cause him. 

When Gojo Satoru issues a death, it is instant, enemies never know what hit them and words die on their tongue right along with them. He easily manipulates, severs and or snaps the flow of energy in their bodies to stop completely with a single movement of his fingers.

And yet..

He knows he didn't fabricate the small gasp let out against his lips before Suguru slumps forward against him.

It's over.

And a broken scream tears out of the strongest left behind.

Notes:

thanks for leaving that scene open ended gege :')

i mostly listened to this while writing it https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5aw1zA2cf7WhC0hFsHVrnr?si=EJJ_L-ZiQh-Jp5PCDOWd1g&utm_source=copy-link

i did write this in like two hours BUT if it feels like a mess or it flips flops, that's exactly what i was going for. it just feels (to me at least) like they're the definition of a mess in this moment, ya know? and i figured gojo would be warring with himself a lot, having so many conflicting feelings, thoughts and he'd no doubt be feeling like he's in chaos. he's only just found and is now losing his best friend and lover all over again :( so i tried to portray that as best i could but still somehow in a coherent, easy to read way.

kudos and comments are always appreciated, thanks for reading!! 😊❤️

Chapter 2

Summary:

i went ahead and wrote shoko's part too :')

** WARNINGS**

can't really tag these without spoiling jjk 0 so a heads up that there are mentions of blood and injury, descriptions of a dead body because it's basically just shoko reminiscing over her relationship with suguru as she starts to clean him up after satoru brings his body to her.

it's just really dark and sad and depressing lol

Her phone buzzes in the breast pocket of her lab coat, she pulls it out and sees Satoru's caller ID.

Her heart drops.

She already knows what he's going to say, what this call means, but nothing could've truly ever prepared her for it. Still, she has a job to do and so, she takes the deepest breath her smoker's lungs will let her take then answers the call.

"Hey."

Satoru laughs a little at her nonchalant greeting, and she thinks it kind of feels like just a normal call for a moment, maybe he feels the same.

"It's done, I'm-"

He hesitates, she hears his sharp intake of air and the way his voice was shaking.

"I'm bringing his body."

Her eyes sting from his words and just how small his voice sounds, it really is over, after all this time. She nods her head as she tells him she's ready whenever he transports, she’d been preparing supplies here in the morgue for the last thirty minutes or so. He surprisingly doesn't take long to phase over at all. Just as she's ended the call he appears in front of her, tightly clutching Suguru's body against his chest in a bridal carry. She tries to hide her shock, she figured he’d need or want a few more moments with him before surrendering him to her.

But, he must have already said his goodbye and had what he feels is enough time with him, because she knows he wouldn't be here if he wasn't ready to some degree.

Still, Satoru's eyes are heavier than she’s ever seen them before, and though he’s always towered over her, he looks so small, so shaken and terrified as he holds the only man who ever meant anything to him in trembling arms.

“Here-”

She motions for him to follow her to the exam table she’d set up.

“You can set him down here.”

He nods once, twice as he shuffles over to join her. She watches him struggle for a minute, his eyes bouncing frantically between the body he’s holding and the table, the heavy reality of what’s happening starting to set in.

She places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay if you need a minute.”

He shakes his head.

“No, I’m alright."

He chews on his bottom lip for a second, he takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out.

“I- I need to let him go. It’s time.”

The room feels weighed down at his words, because they are so incredibly heavy. She doesn’t say anything, letting Satoru have some quiet as he carefully lays Suguru on the table, taking a moment to make sure he’s laid comfortably, straightening his legs and head.

Shoko gasps and turns her head to the ceiling when she catches a glimpse of the mangled mess on Suguru’s right side, his arm is missing and it’s so incredibly bloody, she wasn’t ready for it. Her heart pounds in her chest, amplifying in her ears and her eyes burn. But, she takes a deep breath, and returns her gaze to Satoru, careful not to look at Suguru again, just for the moment.

"Do you want to stay?"

Her voice is gentle and yet he blinks a few times at her question, before looking at the broken body he’d just laid down.

"I should, but I- I just can't."

His voice cracks and his breath hitches, her heart aches for him, he’s still in shock but he’s coming out of it and will break down soon.

"I'm sorry."

She knows his apology is directed towards Suguru, which is confirmed when he presses a kiss to his forehead. He brushes his thumb across his cheek, taking a moment to look at him again. Then he steps away, almost like he’s been burned.

“Come here.”

She holds her arms open for him, he doesn’t have to be told twice as he wraps trembling arms around her, resting his cheek against her head as he tries to control his breathing. She runs a hand up and down along his back. Warmth starts to spread across her chest and she quickly realizes Suguru's blood is on Satoru’s chest, and it’s now soaking into her clothes. 

She tries not to focus on it too much, instead gently clearing her throat so her voice is steady as she tells Satoru:

“Hey, go home, alright? Let yourself break before you explode, I’ll come check in on you later.”

She squeezes him in her embrace, hoping to hold him together for just a little longer, enough time for him to make it home safely. He digs his fingers into her lab coat, the fabric squeaks. Her next words are nothing more than a whisper.

“I’ll take good care of him, promise.”

He nods slowly before letting her go and stepping back, his eyes already filling with tears as he gives one last look to his former lover, then he phases out of the morgue and she’s left alone, biting back a shiver. She gives herself a moment to breath, to prepare to really look at the body that’s waiting for her to examine and catalog.  

Because this one is so much different than the countless other bodies she’s handled over the years. Not only is this the body of her once best friend, but it’s the first time she’s seen him since that day in Shinjuku, not long after he left Jujutsu Tech all those years ago. She wonders if maybe she shouldn’t have a colleague do it instead, she doesn't know if she’s strong enough for this. But just as quickly she realizes it has to be her, he may have been Satoru’s lover, but he was her best friend, her protector even. Why would she let someone who’s a stranger to him take over? To give up her chance to see him again, to get to say a proper goodbye.

Something she never got to do when he was alive.

She stalls only a few moments more as she grabs a folding chair from a corner and shuffles it over to the left side of the examination table, the side of his body with the intact arm. She tries to ignore the scarlet staining her otherwise pristine coat and sweater as she kicks the chair open and places it on the floor, then finally sits down, takes a steadying breath and looks forward.

It’s still rather early after his death based on his appearance, his skin is very pale, his lips just starting to turn purple. But other than that he still looks a lot like the boy she grew up beside, and yet entirely different at the same time. He still has a bang that falls above his left eye, which is falling back due to his flat position and pointing towards the inky gauges he still wears.

His face is free of tension, almost as if he's simply sleeping, eyelids closed and his thick lashes she was always jealous of proudly on display. He seems to have died happy, a very slight smile on his face that anyone else probably wouldn’t notice. 

But she does, and it brings her a little comfort.

However, upon closer inspection, it’s clear he’s aged in the years since she’d seen him last, he looks older, tired. Dark circles below his eyes are easily seen under the fluorescent lighting above, small lines hidden in corners and shadows of his face.

She holds his hand between both of hers, running her thumb along his icy skin. She should really be wearing gloves, it’s protocol after all, but the idea makes her want to scream. It just feels wrong, too clinical. She knows who this is, and yes she should still be taking precautions because anything could be on him or in his blood, but she doesn’t want her final moments with him to be so staunch. Instead, she wants to give him as much warmth as she can, even if the masses would agree he deserves nothing but the worst treatment. 

She feels just a little nausea over the fact that she doesn’t feel guilty for treating him with kindness, and she wonders why. He was a monster, he easily slaughtered an entire village in a single night just before he’d defected from the school, among other atrocities and yet she can’t seem to shake the image of her best friend. Perhaps it’s because other than abandoning her and Satoru, his evils and the things he’s done never personally affected her. Maybe that makes her a bad person, but no one’s going to know so it should be fine. 

She always introduces herself to and makes one sided small talk with every body that she handles and cares for, letting them know what she’s doing just as she would for any living patient, she’s always done this. She always figured she could very well be the only person who knows they're dead and so she always likes to give them a little conversation, or hope, or tell them a joke, even if they aren't alive to respond to her. She doesn't want them to feel alone, and on her end it makes her feel a little less alone in this basement too.

But her tongue feels like lead, and her brain is empty. What the fuck is she supposed to say? 

She finally realizes why she's struggling so badly, it's because this isn't her Suguru at all, his hair is too long and it's down, he hated wearing it down. He hated it hanging in his face, and this man in front of her feels a little like a stranger at the moment.

She decides to fix that.

She reverently raises his head with one hand, her other one moves his hair out from under him, fanning it out against the table. She lowers him down again and gathers his hair as softly as possible, brushing snags, tangles and dried blood from it with her fingers as best she can before grabbing a scrunchie out of her pocket. She puts his dark layers up in a bun, just like he would've done, though she’s frustrated by how messy it is, he could always put it up in seconds and it would be absolutely perfect. But it’s the best she can do and she makes sure to let his bang fall forward, surprised he still has it after being teased so often because of it.

Now he looks like she remembers and some weight is lifted from her shoulders, she can breathe, she can get through this.

“Hey Suguru, it’s Shoko, long time no see, huh?”

She smiles at him softly, placing a gentle hand on his head, reaching her thumb down to gently try and smooth out the slight worry lines of his brow that weren’t there in their school days. She carefully runs her thumb over his cold skin for a minute or so, obviously knowing the lines won’t leave no matter how much she wants them to, they don’t belong there. So she moves on, asking in a gently goading voice:

“When did you go and get so old on me? Hag.”

She knows this would be when he’d respond - in a teasing tone that holds no real bite - with something like “It takes one to know one, you ugly bitch.” She laughs quietly to herself as she grabs a rag and soaks it in warm water at the industrial sink against the wall, wringing it out so it’s not sopping wet. She returns to his side, and uses it to gently wipe off the blood dried on his cheek - trying to ignore how it looks like it’s been streaked by someone’s thumb, probably Satoru’s - gently explaining and narrating what she’s doing.

He always hated blood.

She’s used to the smell of blood by now, but now smelling his as she cleans it is sickening, it feels so wrong. While no this isn't the first time she’s cleaned him up, the other times he was alive, joking with her to try and ease the lines that would appear on her forehead and the way her brows scrunched as she stitched something up. She half expects him to - and maybe even wishes he would - open his eyes, and make a snappy comment about how he’s supposed to worry about her, not the other way around.

“Watching you freaking out over me freaks me out kid.”

Even though she’s older than him, older than Satoru even, she always felt Suguru was like an older brother to her, though she’d never told him and now wishes more than anything she could fix that. Besides Satoru, he was the only one who could tolerate and understand her awful personality and harsh sense of humor. Even though he was concerned over her smoking habit, he never judged or belittled her for it like many did. No, instead he always carried a lighter for her since she often forgot hers, and he always shared mints from his stash that he kept on hand for times when he swallowed a curse.

As strong as she’d always liked to act, she often panicked and had anxiety attacks. He was the only one who had ever seen her cry, the only one she trusted to see her that vulnerable. The first time he’d watched her breakdown he’d been shocked, frozen in place for a moment, but then he recovered fast and pulled her in close, tucking her head into the crook of his neck as he whispered to her. 

"I’ve got you, you’re always safe with me."

He joined her on many walks in the middle of the night or even the dark hours of morning when she couldn’t sleep, or was stressed. His strong, warm presence beside her was enough for her even if they didn’t end up talking. He knew she liked scrunchies, and often came back from missions with some he’d bought from whatever city he’d just been in. He never brought back repeats or boring ones, they were always new and she loved adding them to her collection.

She still has every single one.

He teased and picked on her a fair bit too, just as she did to him. Those moments are what sealed her more familial feelings towards him, they often bickered like siblings, pulling rather harmless and tame pranks on each other too. She’d replaced his toothpaste with mayonnaise, he’d gotten her back by putting glue in her favorite hand lotion bottle. He was always very particular and protective of his conditioner, she replaced it with syrup and waited for him to go off on her. He scared her shitless because instead of getting her back, he simply acted like nothing happened, all smiles instead of attitude which freaked her out.

Until of course, she finally let her guard down and he put shaving cream in her pillow case.

She chased him all over campus, but he always managed to escape and evade her with those stupid long legs of his. But she eventually gave up and they ended up collapsing on the ground beside each other, exhausted and laughing hysterically. Satoru was incredibly confused when he passed by.

Why didn’t I ever tell him just how special he was to me? It feels wrong to do it now.

She snaps out of her reverie for a moment as she realizes his face is clean, finally free of blood which makes him look a little younger. She cheerfully wishes him a merry Christmas Eve, as she suddenly remembers the date, then moves on to start wiping away at the blood on his neck next, more memories creeping up as she works.

The three of them had been nicknamed “Triple S” by many of their classmates since they were always together and all of their names start with S. Many were intimidated by them, mostly because of her. Though she always felt like the baby of the trio, with her boys always protecting her, she smiles softly as she remembers she did have an older sibling moment of her own, just after New Year’s 2006. Suguru had come to her dorm room, knocking quietly which wasn't like him at all, he always knocked loudly to announce that he was on the other side and expected to be let in.

She opens the door to find a very anxious Suguru, wringing his hands and biting his lower lip with a hint of fear? In his eyes.

“Who died?”

He relaxes just a little at her teasing and that’s enough for her. She nods her head in the direction of her bed, letting him know it’s alright to come in and she closes the door behind him as he takes his usual spot at the end of her bed, legs crossed. She sits beside him like always.

“What’s up?”

“Fuck, I’m in love with him is what.”

He blurts out, she didn’t expect him to spill so fast and she laughs softly at just how nervous he is. He turns to face her, scowling in irritation but his lovesick flushed cheeks make him look anything but intimidating or angry.

“And? Why are you in my room? Satoru’s the one you need to be confessing to, idiot.”

“Ughh, how do I do that? It’s like all of a sudden I can’t even form a single sentence around him!”

He buries his face in his hands, muffling the embarrassed, whiny groan that escapes him.

“Where’s my confident Suguru at, hm? Fucking grow a pair and tell him how you feel before you end up regretting it.”

He runs his hands over his hair, interlacing his fingers behind his neck, staring at his lap.

“What if he doesn’t like me back? I’d never live it down. I’d have to like, skip town and change my name and disappear to some remote island and live out my days in solitude and shame.”

She sighs in frustration.

“Stop being so dramatic you dork! You’ll never know until you have a conversation, and besides, I guarantee he feels the same. He’s always looking at you like you’re some painting or something, it’s disgusting really.”

He turns to look at her again, a soft expression on his face.

“Really?”

“Have I ever lied to you before?”

He shakes his head.

“See! Now get out of my room and go get your man.”

She pats his shoulder reassuringly, he throws his arms around her as he gives her his thanks, then he’s out the door, forgetting to close it behind him which has her grumbling.

The next day she catches the two of them holding hands, Satoru gives Suguru a quick kiss to his cheek and Shoko laughs at the way Suguru blushes and practically wilts.

“He really loved you, dork.”

She lets her words sink in for a moment, even though he doesn't hear them. She’s cleaned all the dried blood off his neck by now, and she decides it’s finally time to look at his arm and other injuries and begin her examination.

But just as she starts to unfold his robes, she finds two photos tucked into the fabric above his heart.

One is of Satoru on the beach in his school uniform, it's clear he doesn't know the photo was taken. His pants are cuffed and he's standing in shallow water, a look of pure serenity on his face, eyes closed and head tipped back as he enjoyed the moment. On the back of it Suguru doodled a simple heart with the inscription "My love, July 2006."

She tucks it in her pocket to keep it safe so she can give it to Satoru later.

The other is of her and Suguru, tears suddenly start to fall as she remembers this photo being taken, and simply the fact that he’d kept photos of them this whole time. Satoru took it while they were in a restaurant after an awful mission. The two of them are sitting in one of the restaurant booths, Suguru's arm is slung around her shoulder and pulling her close, she's flipping off the camera, caught mid eye roll. While Suguru is smiling and throwing a peace like nothing bad had happened that day. 

But he'd always been like that, just like he choked down curses and moved on, he was the same with pain and disappointments. He internalized every single one of them, shoving them down and refusing to air them out or talk about them. Eventually he ran out of space inside and they all started to bleed into his eyes, his expressions. 

He probably thought know one knew or could tell, but she always could. She always did her best to sit with him, to keep him company and distracted from whatever was bouncing around in his head. She hoped and still hopes it was enough, at least for those moments.

She turns the picture over to see that he's written something on hers too, and the sob she lets out as she reads it echoes off the walls of the cold, basement mortuary.

"Shoko, my sister from another lifetime."

Notes:

i've never really seen many people talking about how suguru's death would've affected her, so i just had to do it 😭

kudos and comments are always appreciated! 🙏❤️

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of jjk character studies (mostly angst)