Chapter Text
HELLO and welcome to roomies au. I hope you like <3
***
Iori Utahime sat in the middle of the empty room, her hands wrapped around a beer bottle so cheap it could hardly be called alcohol.
The room was small, a little shabby, a little rundown. There was a tiny window set into one wall, cracked open an inch and catching just enough of the rays of the afternoon sun to illuminate the the flecks of dust in the air. She watched the dust swirl, floating slowly around in a roundabout pattern as if it too were disturbed to find itself in a space that was empty when it shouldn’t be. Utahime glanced around, her eyes moving over the bare walls and the uncovered floor.
There had been a dresser in the corner of the room by the window at the beginning of the month, and Utahime frowned to herself because it wasn’t there anymore. A poster had hung on the wall near the door, and that was gone too. She took a sip from her beer, drinking it even though it was too warm, the bubbles from the carbonation making her stomach feel a little fizzy in her frustration.
Utahime wondered, staring at the spot on the wall where the poster had been and almost laughing in her helplessness, if she was cursed. It was the only thing that made sense to her, the only way to reconcile that this was the third time this year she had come home from work to the second bedroom in her apartment unexpectedly vacated, no warning given, no contact information left. The third time she’d come home and done the calculations in her head; the simple, ageless problem of expenses versus income.
The math was, as always, as straightforward as it was damning. She couldn’t afford this place on her own, even so cheap as it was. The numbers didn’t add up.
Utahime went through them again anyway, considering this time the extra cash she had tucked away in her nightstand, funds hidden in case of emergency. And once more, the math was as straightforward as it was damning. She couldn’t afford this place, and she knew it. She couldn’t afford any place, not on her own.
Utahime shut her eyes, laying slowly back onto the floor, her hair fanning out around her head. She could feel the sunlight pouring down over her as she worked through the numbers one more time, considering different options like skimping on groceries, or showering at work to save on water. She thought of the ad for roommates she had placed online, and the small posters she had stuck throughout her neighborhood with her phone number on the bottom. Nobody had reached out to her yet in the few weeks since the ads had been posted, her pleas unanswered.
She set her beer onto the floor beside her, sighing heavily, the breath leaving her lips and expanding out into the nothingness that surrounded her. It was of numbers; her troublesome, unsolvable calculations, that she thought about as she drifted off into an anxious, slightly drunken, sleep.
It was dark when she awoke sometime later, a pitch black broken only by the distant sound of rumbling thunder, the scent of rain thickening the air. Utahime lay still, feeling the rectangle of her phone on her thigh and trying to find herself in the blackness. The streetlight outside had flickered out, and she knew that meant her apartment had lost power too, a common occurrence with the whipping wind of midsummer storms.
She could feel the humidity in the atmosphere because the window was still slightly open, the inch of space sucking in air from the outside. She realized vaguely that opening the window was the last time she had truly moved in hours, a quick trip across the room before sitting right back down again. Utahime felt a small disappointment alight in herself as she considered her laziness, remembering she had told herself she would do yoga today, or maybe go for a walk.
She hadn’t. But perhaps tomorrow.
The blackness of the room was suddenly broken, lit up by a bright, electric yellow as lightning streaked across the sky outside. A crack of thunder hit a moment later, and then the soft, supposedly soothing sound of the rain. Utahime closed her eyes, wishing she had slept through this. She thought of maybe getting another beer but decided not to, the idea of drinking suddenly making her stomach flip uncomfortably. There was another crack of thunder, the flash of lightning so quick she nearly missed it, and Utahime jumped, clenching her teeth.
She began, as she usually did at times like this, to try and find ways to distract herself. She could still feel her phone on her thigh and she started to think that maybe a notification would be waiting for her, were she to check for one. Perhaps an unknown number, someone responding at last to her ads for a roommate. Utahime considered this possibility, letting her mind redo the math from earlier. She threw in an extra variable this time, someone to split everything with, and felt longing curl in her stomach because everything added up that way.
But when she slid her fingers to her phone, squinting at the screen as she held it high above her head, Utahime saw only a text from Shoko, probably a meme to cheer her up because of the thunder outside. A slow gratefulness spread through her, because Shoko tended to do this sort of thing. She’d send things to make Utahime laugh, or potential options for roommates that she saw online, and it did usually provide distraction.
And Shoko always reached out during a storm.
She clicked on the notification and blinked, surprised because it was words rather than the meme she had expected, one short sentence that made her raise slightly up off the floor in astonishment.
Shoko - Suguru has a friend who needs a place
Utahime sucked in a breath, reading the message again, her heart thudding a little rapidly against her ribs in cautious excitement. She felt her fingers type out a response.
Utahime - really?
Shoko responded immediately, giving her no time to begin feeling anxious in the wait.
Shoko - yes. dinner tomorrow at ours to meet him?
Utahime felt her body pull itself fully upright, laying down no longer feeling correct. She briefly forgot the storm as she set her phone in her lap, and was a little confused because Shoko’s messages were the same from this angle. She had half-expected them to change into something else less hopeful upon the switch in position. The longing that had curled in her stomach turned into hesitant relief, a warmth that slowly unfolded through her body.
Utahime - sure. this is serious?
She lay back down while she waited, sitting up not feeling correct either, her body as unsettled as the rumbling clouds in the sky.
Shoko - yes. and I told him not to text you yet but he did anyway lol. sorry. he’s…well. he’s something
Utahime’s body made a roll onto her stomach as her phone vibrated again, more buzzing that drowned out the rain. One message, and then another, and then four more after that in rapid succession, lighting up her phone and making her eyebrows raise in slight bemusement.
Unknown - hi
Unknown - :)
Unknown - fuck, shoko says I shouldn’t have texted you yet
Unknown - hi anyway
Unknown - :)
Unknown - oh yeah, i’m gojo btw
Utahime frowned, wondering why she felt faintly irritated by the way he texted. He spoke too casually and it felt as strange as laying on her stomach did. She got two more messages as she pushed up onto her knees, her heart beating quickly at her restlessness.
Maybe: Gojo - sweet, shoko says ur coming to hers for dinner tomorrow. me too
Maybe: Gojo - :)
Utahime frowned, realizing through her haze of relief that she definitely felt irritated at the way he texted. She decided, with no evidence to back her claim, that he seemed like the sort of person to wear sunglasses indoors at night.
Staring at the messages, she typed a quick response, shaking her head at her own childishness.
Utahime - :(
Maybe: Gojo - oh.
Maybe: Gojo - ;)?
Maybe: Gojo - is that better
Utahime - no you idiot. who are you
Maybe: Gojo - i told you that. i’m gojo
Maybe: Gojo - ;)
Utahime grabbed her mostly-empty beer bottle from where it sat on the floor beside her, standing up because kneeling felt wrong too. She navigated the darkness of her apartment without thinking, perusing his messages with curiosity as she poured the remnants of her drink down the drain. She lit the candle that was by the sink, the wax already half-melted and the scent mostly gone. She didn't mind, focusing the small orange glow as a flame flickered to life, her only light in the darkness. It threw her kitchen into shivery shadows, breaking up the darkness in a different way from the lightning, something a little cozy rather than haunting.
Utahime let herself wonder freely about this person Shoko had said was a friend as she got ready for bed, carefully carrying her candle with her to the bathroom. She thought his name sounded familiar, something she might’ve heard once, or perhaps read. Gojo. She was sure Shoko hadn’t mentioned him before, and Geto certainly hadn’t, as quiet as he usually was.
Gojo. Definitely familiar.
Utahime considered it again, running through a mental list of people she had met through Shoko, but she couldn’t put a face to his name. She wondered if she ought to try and research him, and whether or not that would be appropriate before actually meeting him. She decided, as she pulled her hair out of her face to work through her skincare routine, that it probably wouldn't be.
Utahime glanced again at his messages, her screen glowing blue in the darkness of her bathroom and reflecting off of the mirror. His winking message was the last that had come through and she realized it bothered her for some reason, like he didn’t understand the seriousness of her situation.
Utahime poked her head out of the bathroom, her gaze flicking down the hall to where she knew the empty bedroom was. She could just barely see the outline of it, the hall opening to a deeper, more expansive blackness, certain emptiness. She tried to imagine someone standing amongst the darkness, her mind forming a picture of the person she had yet to meet, a random hodgepodge of features until she got something that seemed to fit.
Would he be the fourth, Utahime wondered, to leave when she was out at work? Would he, like her roommates before, block her number in his phone and leave no money to help cover expenses until she could find someone new to take his place?
The air vibrated from the thunder as she contemplated, a roiling crack that echoed through the darkness that surrounded her. Utahime squeezed her eyes shut, her heart beating quickly from nervousness rather than cautious excitement. She heard the buzz of her phone, and knew that this text would be the one from Shoko checking in.
She didn’t move for a while, the whirling of the maelstrom outside filling her mind and her body, making her feel almost like liquid. She remembered what it felt like, raindrops falling so hard that they felt like bullets slamming into her skin, smashed glass and a horn that wouldn’t stop blaring. She remembered tears sliding out of her eyes, and a pain like fire burning across her face.
It was always like this, the memories so vivid that they felt like thunder themselves, cracking through her and splitting her in half. But she was okay.
She was okay.
Utahime responded to Shoko as she stood in the darkness, her eyes on her candle and the warmth it gave.
Utahime - yes. I’m okay.
She was okay.
***
It was still drizzly the next afternoon, the sky grey and angry like it hadn’t quite finished letting loose its temper the night before. Utahime pulled her rain jacket tightly around herself as she walked the familiar sidewalks to the building where Shoko and Geto made their home together, the air thick with humidity. She stepped over puddles, walking past the smiling doormen and into a lobby made of marble, pristine and clean, new and fancy. A perfect opposite, Utahime thought grimly, to her own apartment, with the paint flaking off the walls and the ugly textured ceilings.
She let herself muse about the differences, wondering if perhaps her roommates had all moved out because they had wanted to live in a place like this—until she arrived at Shoko’s door, curling her fingers into a fist to knock. She could hear them, the quiet sound of Shoko’s calm and measured voice growing slowly closer, Geto’s equally measured tone tagging along.
There was a quiet click as the door in front of her swung open, and Utahime was pulled immediately forward, drawn into a hug by someone with surprising strength given how small she was. A hand gently ruffled her hair, and she looked up at Geto as he winked at her in silent greeting.
Their smiles for her were warm, comforting, and Utahime felt a rush of gratitude as she looked at them both. They had been kind to befriend her. She had been alone, curled up by herself in a hospital bed feeling as if she were only held together by the stitches on her face and the bandages wrapped around her arms, when a doctor with kind eyes had sat beside her, a warm cup of tea in her hand. Things had gotten a little better after that, the clouds in her own sky perhaps less dark than they had been before.
Less dark, but still thick and grey, a blanket of sorrow in her consciousness.
Utahime slid off her shoes before letting them lead her down their spacious hallway, past the expensive, antique art hung upon the walls. Everything was neat here, specifically chosen to create an atmosphere of airiness and sophistication, open and modern. She could smell dinner cooking and she knew already that it would be something fresh and healthy, something fruity for dessert. Always carefully selected, always flawlessly curated.
The perfect opposite, Utahime thought again, to herself.
They passed by the kitchen with food on the stove and a bedroom with the door pulled politely shut, eventually stopping together in the living room. They formed a habitual half-square, Geto and Shoko on one side and Utahime holding up the other on her own, symmetry offset. She gave Shoko a curious glance, because the sofa in the corner was not as neat as it usually was, the cushions slightly disturbed, the decorative pillows askew. There was a blanket folded over one arm and a pillow meant for sleeping stuck haphazardly beneath it.
“So this guy,” Utahime said slowly, looking back to the sofa that she now suspected had served as a bed for the person called Gojo. “He needs a place to live?”
Utahime heard the muted sounds of Geto and Shoko agreeing together, quietly answering her question.
“If you’ll have him,” Shoko said, her fingers tugging at the ends of her hair. “He’s—“
“Something,” Utahime finished for her, remembering how Shoko had described him the day before.
Geto chuckled softly, his dark eyes glittering with amusement as he held his hand out for Utahime’s coat, still zipped up over her overalls. Utahime shrugged it off, letting him take it.
“You could say that,” he said, still laughing as he walked back down the hall to the coatrack. “You’ll be entertained, at the very least.”
“Understatement,” Shoko muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Have I met him? His name sounds familiar,” Utahime mused as Geto slid back into place beside Shoko, resting his hand on her shoulder.
Geto opened his mouth, his eyes glittering again, but this time with something Utahime couldn't place.
“Well—“
A door slammed from down the hall before Geto could finish his sentence, and Utahime heard the squeaking sound of a raincoat being slipped off, and then two thunks as someone kicked off their shoes. Geto’s eyebrows rose, and they all turned to look down the hall at once, even though the newcomer was not yet visible.
“How’d it go?” Geto called out, rolling his shoulders. “Any luck?”
“Got my favorite sweatpants and my headphones. So—yeah, I guess. They were about the only useful things at the damn place,” came the shouted answer.
Utahime shot Shoko a questioning look, but Shoko was looking at the ceiling, shaking her head in faint exasperation.
“Hey, that chick from yesterday never texted me back—well, okay, she called me an idiot—are we sure she’s showing up to this?”
Utahime frowned at the same time Geto choked on a laugh, and Shoko looked up at the ceiling again, her expression still exasperated.
“I’d say so,” Geto said placidly, amusement back in his eyes.
“Oh, good,” the voice replied from down the hall.
Utahime felt her frown shift, because something about the way he talked sounded as familiar as his name. She thought the cockiness in his tone was somehow recognizable. Very foggy memories began to tug at her, threads of them tangling together, but Utahime couldn’t determine precisely what they were beyond simple recognition. She searched her mind quickly, running again through the small list of people she had met through Shoko, but once more came up empty.
It began to click, the fogginess of her memories clearing, as she looked over Geto’s shoulder and saw a tall shadow meandering down the hall towards them. He moved gracefully and she remembered that, the loose set to his shoulders causing another hint of a recollection.
“I guess you would say so,” the newcomer said, laughing as he spotted the three of them, Utahime half-hidden for Geto standing in front of her. “Thanks for the heads-up, man.”
“She should know what she’s getting into,” Geto replied, his mild smile the only sign of his mirth.
Gojo. Gojo.
Utahime could hear the shallowness of her breath as everything slotted into place, her synapses firing rapidly as a night from nearly a year ago burst into remembrance. She saw murky flashes of images, all of them smashing together in her head. A musty old dive bar in the city and a handsome stranger, his long fingers interlocked with hers as he'd pulled her into the closest bathroom, his hair falling into his eyes as he'd turned his head over his shoulder to look at her. She had needed to stand onto her tiptoes to kiss him and he had bent to reach her, lifting her up against the bathroom door as it had closed behind them.
He had not introduced himself to her, giving her no name with which to address him. Utahime felt sure of this even in the dimness of her memories, because she had not given him her name either, too stunned by her own behavior that night to be bothered with proper manners.
So why, she wondered, feeling entirely overwhelmed as the handsome stranger she had once fucked in a bar stepped fully into the living room, did she think she'd heard his name before?
“Fair enough,” the stranger—Gojo—chuckled.
Utahime, her heart throbbing in an uneven beat, stepped to the side as he slid nimbly around Geto’s body, coming to a stop beside her and completing their square without directly meaning to.
“So,” Gojo said from beside her, and Utahime’s eyes flew up to his as his fell gradually down to hers. “You’re the girl who—“
He stopped talking abruptly, white eyelashes fluttering over brilliant blue eyes, and his mouth fell slightly open before he quickly shut it again. His tongue slid slowly to the corner of his lips, and he regained his composure as quickly as he’d lost it, his voice meticulously even when he spoke again.
“The girl who's going to help me solve my little homelessness problem," he finished smoothly, clearing his throat.
He scratched at his nose in what Utahime imagined was discomfort, his gaze resting heavily upon her. She could hear that his own breath was a little shallow even though his expression was carefully neutral, not even a suggestion of surprise on his face. Utahime felt herself flush, and she bit the inside of her cheek to try and make the heat fade, trying furiously to collect herself.
“Homelessness problem?” she managed, her voice not nearly as smooth as his.
She looked over him, taking in his casual but clearly expensive clothing, nice jeans and a clean black shirt. His hair was messy, damp from the drizzle outside, but he had an air of healthiness about him. Even the sweatpants clutched in his hands were obviously well-made, the material plainly luxurious. She almost laughed, thinking of her baseless judgement from the night before, because he had sunglasses stuck into the collar of his shirt even on a rainy day.
“Yep,” Gojo said shortly, one corner of his mouth hitching up in a rueful smile. His eyes twinkled a little mischievously. “Wanna help me out with that one?”
“Gojo,” Geto murmured, a careful reprimand at his forwardness.
Utahime started, because she had forgotten that Geto was standing across from her. She was suddenly aware of him and of Shoko too, their dual presence oddly intimidating, like she was in a fish tank and they were looking in.
“Oh, right,” Gojo muttered, seeming to remember that in the eyes of their friends, they had not yet been acquainted. He inclined his head to her somewhat-respectfully. “Gojo.”
“You mentioned,” Utahime grumbled, thinking of his texts from the night before.
“Gonna tell me yours?” His eyes still twinkled as he looked down at her.
“Gojo—“ Geto reprimanded again.
“No,” Utahime said automatically, feeling a surge of an old, fiercely competitive nature that hadn't shown itself for a long while.
Gojo tipped his head back, his laugh loud and full. It brought forth more memories, and Utahime trembled a little because she could suddenly recall how rough his hands had been as they'd slid over her body, pushing her dress up and over her thighs. She could hear the clink of his belt buckle as she’d fumbled to unlatch it, and the pop of stitches as he’d yanked her underwear to the side.
“That’s just as well,” Gojo said, still laughing. “I already know that it is. They told me.”
Utahime frowned at him, and then at Shoko and Geto, both of whom raised their hands in an identical gesture of guilt.
“Ut-a-him-e,” he teased, drawing out the syllables.
He smiled widely at her in the same way he’d done at the bar, a quick flash of his teeth. His eyes were bright, a little blinding, and Utahime felt her heart make another uneven beat against her ribs. Gojo’s smile wavered, a brief flicker in his expression.
“Why should I let you live with me?”
His mouth twitched, his expression flickering again.
“I’m hot,” he said easily, eyes still bright. “Fun to look at. Entertaining. And I’ve been told I’m funny.”
“You’ve been lied to,” Utahime said flatly and untruthfully, trying to hold onto her frown.
Another laugh spilled out of him, and she grit her teeth as the sound once more caused a surge of remembered sensations, more memories drumming up. They were dreamy, uncertain, tinged from being left at the bottom of the hole her mind had become over the past year.
“Unfair,” Gojo murmured, clearly pleased at her rebuttal. He raised his eyebrows. “Fine. I can cook.”
“Can you?”
“No, not at all.”
“Can you clean?” Utahime asked, her hands on her hips.
“Probably,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Never tried before.”
Utahime reached up to rub at her temples. Her head started to pound as numbers began to swirl in her mind, replacing the hazy memories.
“Can you pay rent?”
Gojo’s mouth fell out of its smile as Utahime saw, for the first time, an expression he could not control slide onto his face. His lips slowly parted, like he was taken aback by her question.
“Come on,” Geto broke in calmly, stepping fluidly into the middle of their square. “Let’s eat.”
He dragged Gojo down the hall towards the kitchen, muttering something to him that Utahime couldn’t hear. Utahime made to follow them, suddenly realizing that she was starving, but Shoko held her back. She rested her hand lightly on Utahime’s shoulder.
Utahime turned to her, and Shoko put a finger to her lips, cocking her head in the direction of the kitchen. Utahime listened, hearing the faint sounds of Geto and Gojo having a quiet conversation. She couldn’t catch all of it, only bits and pieces of bickering whispers.
She looked back to Shoko, wondering for a mad, uncontrollable moment if she should tell her about what had happened at the bar.
“He was disowned,” Shoko explained softly, confidentially, speaking through Utahime’s madness. “His family—they’re old.”
Shoko glanced down to the kitchen again, where Gojo and Geto still spoke in low tones.
“Disowned?”
Shoko nodded, closing her eyes.
“You’ve heard of his family,” she whispered. “They were zaibatsu.”
Utahime’s eyes widened, the term extinct but the meaning still greatly significant. Her mind reeled, bits of information gathering together like pieces of a puzzle fitting together. She heard her own voice in her head as if from a dream, a lesson she had recited to her students only a few months ago.
The Gojo Financial Group, she had taught them, writing the name of the company down on the whiteboard, was a privately-owned corporation and one of the largest financial institutions in Japan. Centered primarily in Tokyo but with some six-hundred location dotted through the country, its clientele was predominantly retail and corporate customers. It was a bank for the rich, she had said, and not the poor.
Utahime had not, at the time, given much thought to the family behind such an organization. She did now, a slight pain still radiating across her temples as she began to consider it—but it all fell abruptly away, the realization of Gojo’s name unimportant, as parts of her hazy memories resurfaced once again. She forced them stubbornly back down into the depths of her mind where they belonged.
Fuck.
Utahime was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice that the talk in the kitchen had died down, the sound of dishes being laid out taking its place. She let Shoko grab her hand and pull her down the hall, following her in somewhat of a daze as they all sat to eat.
Gojo, who had dipped back into the living room to toss his sweatpants upon the couch before situating himself across from her, did not speak to her until Geto and Shoko were deeply engaged in their own conversation, neither of them paying attention to anything else.
“You’ve figured it out,” he said quietly, scooping rice into his mouth. “Who I am.”
Utahime nodded slowly, her stomach clenching as she once more took in his expensive clothing, his well-groomed appearance. He wore a watch and she speculated about how much it had cost, thinking it was probably worth more than several months’ rent.
Gojo smiled, another rueful curl of his lips.
“My dirty little secret,” he muttered, his jaw tensing.
Utahime drew her eyebrows together, thinking of his texts and his lack of hesitation in sharing his name with her. But then again, she mused to herself, he had not given her that name at the bar.
“Hey,“ he murmured slowly, carefully forming the word. "What—"
He trailed off, but Utahime saw his gaze move carefully over the ridge of thick scar tissue on her cheek before he lifted his eyes to hers, a silent question reflected in the blue.
She had been whole, she remembered, when they had met. Her face had not yet been ruined when he’d pulled her into that bathroom. She didn’t answer him, as was her wont when anyone asked about her face, and Gojo thankfully did not press the issue. He returned to his food and so Utahime did the same, inserting herself into Shoko and Geto’s conversation simply to have something to do with herself.
Dinner felt slow, the talk casual, the time gradually passing until they eventually began to clean up. Utahime, used to nights like this, fell into her usual duty of drying dishes after Geto had washed them, handing them off to Shoko afterwards so she could place them in the pretty oak cabinets where they belonged.
She could see, through the small window above the sink, that the clouds outside had begun to darken as the sun slipped through the sky. The trees planted in the courtyard outside were beginning to sway, the leaves rustling as the wind started to whip.
It was a reflex to think of her candle; the image of the soft orange flame not quite able to completely fill the pit of anxiety that had opened in her stomach. She watched the trees sway again, their trunks gently bending in the breeze. It was alarming to her how easily they could move, how something so solid and rooted could be rocked by something as insubstantial as the wind. She imagined them uprooted and tipped over, a loveliness ruined.
Utahime swallowed, realizing that she needed to leave. She thought she saw the faintest flash of yellow in the distance, a hint of lightning.
“I need to go,” she whispered as she handed Shoko a dish, her fingers feeling numb.
Utahime saw Shoko glance outside, her eyes lingering on the spread of the clouds.
“That's fine,” Shoko replied without question, looking quickly to where Gojo still sat by the table. “We’ll figure him out later.”
Utahime nodded quickly, and she took a step back from the sink. Shoko slid to the side to replace her, as if Utahime's presence had never been needed in the first place. Geto turned his head over his shoulder, smiling slightly at her in goodbye before switching his attention back to the dishes, handing Shoko a wet plate to dry. Utahime felt her eyes move back to the window, another flash of electric yellow illuminating the clouds.
She spun mutely in the direction of the hallway, her body feeling slightly numb as she headed for the door. She worked through the route home in her head, tracing the familiar sidewalks and not thinking about how the wind would blow through her hair. She knew how the rain would feel against her skin, were she to get caught in it.
It would feel like bullets.
Her shoes were waiting for her at the end of the hall, partially buried beneath expensive sneakers that had been shoved over them. She pulled them free, cursing herself for wearing sandals. She should know better than this.
She tugged her rain jacket on, sliding the zipper high as it could go. Perhaps it still would only be a drizzle, Utahime thought hopefully. Maybe she’d beat the worst of it.
She considered for a brief, hopeful moment, the idea of waiting until the storm had passed before leaving. It would probably be simpler that way, she knew, and much less of a risk. But she was always alone for storms, and Utahime thought she might prefer it like that. She had awoken by herself in the hospital after her accident and that had been the start of it all, her curse of loneliness and solitude, the beginning of the round robin of roommates and the end of her beauty. She had been alone after her accident and so it made sense to her that she should be alone for the lingering fallout from it too.
She was leaning back against the mirrored wall in the elevator, the doors sliding shut, when a hand darted between them to pause the motion, forcing them to ease back open. Utahime was too distracted by the rumbling sky outside to feel any surprise that it was Gojo who stepped inside with her, standing so that he faced her, his hands in his pockets. The doors closed behind him with a soft ding, sealing them in together.
Utahime didn't look at him for a moment, caught between her fear and her memories as they began to dawn once again. She realized from a distance that, bewilderingly, she was very faintly aroused. She could remember, her lips tingling at the recalled sensation, how he had covered her mouth with his hand when she had cried out in pleasure, a secret sound selfishly kept for himself.
“So,” he said softly.
Utahime lifted her gaze, looking over at him gradually. She tucked her lip between her teeth because his eyes were bluer than her memories told her they would be. She had liked them, at the bar. She’d approached him first because she had thought he had pretty eyes.
“So,” she echoed, swallowing the memories once more.
Gojo chuckled, pulling his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms over his chest. He replicated her expression, biting his lip.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Utahime felt a small laugh bubble up through her throat. It was a tight sound, a little anxious, nearly covered by the whir of the elevator as it sank down to the lobby.
“No,” Utahime agreed. “Me either.”
A remnant of her earlier madness gripped her again, and she found herself wanting to admit to him that her behavior in the bar had not been typical for her—she hadn’t done something like that before, meeting someone and then fucking them ten minutes later.
“You never called,” he accused quietly, one white eyebrow cocked, his mouth set into a slight smile.
Utahime shook her head as the elevator shuddered to a stop. She raised her hand, her fingers tracing over the scar on her cheek before dropping back down to her side. She had forgotten about it, the piece of receipt paper he'd shoved in her hand, a phone number written across it in an untidy scrawl. It had been lost, disremembered entirely in the bleak monotony of the days that had passed since then. Her accident had happened so soon afterwards, a great blot in the lines of her life.
“No,” she whispered.
She stiffened as another, more potent slew of memories forced themselves through her head. A pitch black sky, softly rustling leaves, and hard, hot pavement beneath her back. There had been pieces of glass embedded into her skin and she could recall how the jagged edges of the shards had made her gasp in pain. She had felt her own blood dripping down the side of her face and into her hair. Lightning had cut across the sky above her, a harsh, vibrant yellow.
She made to step out of the elevator and was vaguely aware that Gojo came with her, shortening his stride to walk beside her.
“Why didn't you?”
Utahime tilted her head in his direction, moving a little quicker across the pristine marble lobby as she heard thunder threaten again.
“I—“
She pressed her lips together, feeling her voice stall in her throat. She wondered if she should tell him that her snub had been unintentional, but found that she still couldn’t get the words out. They came to a stop by the lobby doors, Gojo situating himself once more so that he faced her.
“Sorry,” she said instead.
She tilted her gaze up to his face, feeling her breath catch because his eyes really were pretty. Blue as a clear sky, his white hair like clouds brightened by sunshine instead of filled with rain.
“Don’t be,” he grinned lopsidedly. “We had a good time. Yeah?”
Utahime exhaled, shivering as she heard the whistle of the wind outside, weaving through the trees as it sought to destroy.
“Yeah,” she confirmed, feeling the corners of her mouth tip slightly upwards.
Gojo’s grin evened out, his body shifting slightly like something had made him relax.
“Going home?”
Utahime nodded, her eyes on the broad slope of his shoulders, covered by the jacket he must've slid back into.
“I’ll walk you,” he said decisively, setting his hand against the door like he intended to push it open for her.
Utahime felt hesitation rise in her, looking at the drizzle outside and then back to Gojo, but then she nodded slowly, taking a deep breath as he pressed on the door. It opened, the wind slightly gentler than she had expected as it hit her in the face, catching strands of her hair. She pulled her hood over her head, feeling raindrops hitting her cheeks, her fingers, her toes in her sandals.
She knew, feeling suddenly very cold, that she should tell him to turn back. She was always alone for storms and she liked it that way, her only company the flickering flame of her candle.
“Utahime?”
She jolted at the sound of her name said in his voice, realizing that her body had frozen and that she stood unmoving on the sidewalk.
“Sorry,” she muttered, striding with purpose in the direction of her apartment.
“Don’t be,” he said again, keeping up with her.
He swapped to walk by her other side, nudging her further onto the sidewalk and away from the road as a car passed them by, the glare of the headlights shining into her eyes. They paused at a stoplight, and a restless, nervous energy began to twist in her because the rain had started to pick up, falling slightly harder.
Bullets.
“I can pay, by the way.”
Gojo's words floated to her from far away, the tiniest thread of reality breaking up her fear. Utahime gripped her hood to hold it in place as she tipped her head up to him.
“What?”
“Rent,” he clarified, blinking rain out of his eyes. His hair was plastered to his forehead because he hadn't bothered to pull up his own hood, drops of water sliding down his nose. “I can pay.”
“Oh,” Utahime said distractedly, stepping into the street as the light flashed for them to walk. “Good.”
“So I can live with you?” he laughed, pleased at his victory.
Utahime rolled her eyes, but she felt her mouth form a smile.
“I need you to,” she confessed, glancing at him. “I can’t afford—“
“Me either,” Gojo broke in, smoothly covering her brief, sheepish pause.
He laughed again, and Utahime let the sound act as a sort of buoy, holding her steady as the rain fell harder. She felt locks of her hair, now wet, glue themselves to her cheek, the wind not as gentle as it had been before.
“You know who my family is now?”
“Yes,” she breathed a little weakly, walking faster.
“Did Shoko tell you—“
“That you were disowned?” Utahime interrupted quickly. She could just see the top of her building in the distance and she wanted to run for it. “Yes.”
“Did she say why?”
Utahime shook her head, her breath uneven and shaky as it slid out of her. Black spots popped in her vision and she blinked them furiously away, thunder rolling through the sky.
“No.”
Gojo grunted quietly in response, and her breath shook in a different way, her bewildering arousal twisting again because she had heard him make a version of that sound before. He had been inside her then, his lips on hers, her fingernails digging into the muscles that lined his shoulders.
“You didn't do anything...illegal, did you?”
She again heard the steady sound of Gojo's laugh, and she felt it reverberate through her as if her body were trying to capture his joy and steal it for itself, his ease unthinkable to her.
“No,” he said lightly, his arm brushing against hers as the sidewalk narrowed. “I’m just a disappointment.”
His arm brushed against hers again, more firmly this time. She could hear the soft squeak of his jacket as it made friction with hers, slick for the water that had dampened the material.
“Are you?” she asked to have something to say, realizing that the sound of the rain hitting the pavement was louder when neither of them were talking.
“What, a disappointment?”
Utahime turned her head cautiously up in his direction, peering at him from beneath her hood because his tone was playful, pointed humor woven in. The rain hurt as it hit her skin but she didn't look away from him, relishing the pain that felt like justice.
“I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, his eyes sparkling with a fluid energy she had seen in them once before. “Was I?”
“N—" Utahime began, and then paused, realizing her mistake. "Shut up."
Gojo bit down on his grin, watching her face as her cheeks turned red. Utahime saw that he had droplets caught in his eyelashes, little peaceful moments hidden in white.
“Neither were you,” he murmured, his voice dipping another octave.
His steps slowed, but Utahime mumbled in protest, grasping his arm to pull him forward with her as a bolt of lightning streaked over their heads.
“What—“
"It's raining," she said in explanation.
She left her fingers on his arm as she stepped off of the sidewalk, dragging him with her as she cut across soggy grass to a familiar neighborhood of rundown buildings. His bicep was tense beneath her fingers, but Gojo kept himself quiet as she led him to her building, climbing the rickety old staircase until they reached the top floor. There was an awning, a blessed relief as they slid beneath it, her free hand digging into the pockets of her overalls to find her key. She glanced to the streetlight that lived outside her apartment, and felt some of her relief falter because the bulb wasn't lit, the power out again.
She would be okay, Utahime reminded herself. She would light her candle. She sat through storms alone and she was glad for it.
She would be okay.
"Here?" Gojo said quietly as Utahime stopped in front of her door.
She felt a worry build in her, a flash of a concern that melted to fretful anxiety as thunder shook the world. He wouldn't be used to blackouts and rickety staircases, or rundown buildings and textured ceilings, not with the staggering wealth of his family. He had probably expected something like Shoko and Geto's apartment, crisp and stylish, perfectly pretty.
"Here," Utahime apologized, sliding her key into the lock and kicking the door open.
Her apartment was as dark as she had known it would be, a pitch black punctuated only by the faint light that shone in from the world behind them. She was still holding onto him with one hand and he didn't seem to mind that her grip was tight as a vice. She turned to face him slowly, flinching because the clouds suddenly burst completely, rain falling hard and swift, too many sounds at once.
Somehow, unexpectedly, Gojo was smiling as he looked at the dishevelment of her apartment, rivulets of water dripping down his face and over the lips she had once kissed. Her mind reconstituted itself, because she had started to do the calculations again, adding up the numbers without splitting anything in half out of reflex, already knowing they would not add up. She let the calculations fade to the more pleasant version, neatly dividing up her household expenses so that it all worked.
"All right," he said steadily, as if she had asked him a question. "When can I move in?"
Utahime felt one more tight, anxious laugh work its way out of her throat. Her cheek felt like it was on fire and she couldn't tell if it was only the memory of pain or the real thing, the sound of a blaring horn echoing through her mind.
"Um—"
"Tomorrow morning?" he interjected, glancing into her apartment one last time before letting his eyes settle upon her face.
Utahime raised her eyebrows, Gojo's expression open and honest.
"Sure," she agreed, glad that his eyes made her think of a clear sky. She suddenly felt as soothed by them as she did her candle, perhaps something else lovely to keep her company. "Tomorrow morning."
He nodded, resting his long body against her doorframe. His eyes were frank, still honest as he looked at her.
”And—tonight?” he asked slowly, his meaning evident.
Utahime closed her eyes, hearing the blaring horn and feeling the hardness of pavement beneath her back, glass cutting into her arms. But she saw, behind the darkness of her own eyelids, a handsome stranger looking at her from across a crowded room, his blue eyes foggy with lust but somehow still as clear as a sunny day. She saw, letting herself remember fully now, the bathroom door closing behind them, feeling his warm hands on her body instead of the pavement beneath her back. She heard his quiet grunt of satisfaction as he'd slid into her instead of the endless rolling thunder.
She had been whole, then.
Her eyes opened gradually, the sounds of the storm and the echoes of her accident rushing back to her in an instant. She flinched, looking up to Gojo because she wanted to see a sky without clouds.
She squeezed his arm, her eyes wide as arousal kicked up in her again.
"I shouldn't fuck you," he murmured, softly like he was speaking to himself. His mouth tipped into his rueful smile. "If I'm going to live with you."
"You shouldn't," Utahime whispered, swallowing.
"Damn," Gojo chuckled quietly, sliding his fingers through his damp hair so that it stuck up wildly.
He pulled his hood up over his head at last, covering the wildness, and a small flicker of dread alit in her as she realized he meant to walk back to Shoko's, leaving her alone. She let go of his arm, clasping her own fingers together for stability.
She would be okay.
"Tomorrow?"
Gojo looked at her while he waited for her confirmation, and she thought she saw a hint of concern somewhere in the clearness of his eyes, the smallest cloud floating through.
"Tomorrow," Utahime nodded tightly.
She thought of her candle and of orange flames as Gojo nodded, his brow drawing together slightly as his concern seemed to grow. But he turned after a moment, and he lifted one hand in a wave as he stepped out from beneath the awning, and back into the storm.
***
This might be four or five or also six chapters? four for now :)