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“Here, for you two.”
Gojo looks up from his desk. Beside him, his best friend also does the same when their one and only female classmate approaches them right after class is over, handing out two identical-looking gifts. They are wrapped neatly with a ribbon at the top; the familiar logo of a famous chocolate brand can be seen printed in the corner of the package.
“What’s this?” he asks dumbly.
“Chocolate, one for each of you. Can’t you see?”
“Ah, right. Today is Valentine’s Day. I almost forgot,” Geto says, having just recalled the date, “Thank you, Shoko.”
“No problem. It’s just giri choco , after all,” she smiles and shrugs casually, “Well, enjoy then. I’m going to go find Nanami and Haibara to give them their share.”
Saying this, she leaves the two of them and walks out of the class.
“...Valentine’s Day, huh? I wouldn’t realize it if she didn’t do this,” Gojo starts to peel off the wrapper while leaning back in his seat.
“It can't be helped. Our school is different from others. There are only five of us here. If we were in a normal school, maybe we would’ve noticed since many people would be talking about it, especially the girls,” replies Geto, “And we’ve been getting quite a lot of missions, too, in the past weeks.”
“That’s true. Who has the time to think about something as trivial as Valentine’s Day when you have to run around everywhere exorcising stuffs all day long?”
Gojo takes a huge bite of the milk chocolate bar he’s unwrapped. His face beams the moment sweetness spreads in his mouth. At the same time, he notices that his classmate hasn’t touched his share of chocolate at all and simply lets it sit on the table.
“Hmm? Why are you staring like that, Satoru?” Geto notices his glare through the sunglasses.
“Aren’t you going to eat that? If you don’t want it, I can eat it on your behalf.”
“Out of appreciation to Shoko for going through the trouble getting this for us, I will eat it myself,” Geto laughs, “But I’m not sure I can finish a whole chocolate bar like you do, so I might share it with you later.”
“Awesome. Let me know when you need to borrow my stomach.”
Before long, almost the entire bar of chocolate disappeared into Gojo’s mouth. After stuffing himself with the final piece, he rises to his feet, stretches his long limbs, and tosses the wrappers into a nearby trash can.
“Alright, class is over. Do you have any plan after this, Suguru?”
“Nothing in particular.”
“Then, wanna come with me to town? Since it’s Valentine’s Day, the stores must be selling all sorts of cakes there. I want to check them out.”
“There’s really no end to your sweet tooth, isn’t there?”
“Eh, what’s wrong with that? So you’re coming or not?”
“I’m coming,” saying this, Geto also leaves his desk, “I need to keep an eye on you so you don’t go overboard with your cake hunt. I’ll be the one in trouble if you come crying to me afterward for getting yourself a toothache.”
“Whatever.”
Gojo puts his hands behind his head as he walks out to the corridor. However, he hasn’t walked far when he hears Geto calling from behind him.
“Satoru.”
“Hmm?”
Suddenly, Geto takes his hand. He then feels a weight falls on his palm.
“...What’s this?”
“Chocolate,” Geto says lightly.
“Huh? For who?”
“For you,” his best friend replies, “From me.”
Gojo opens his mouth but immediately closes it again. He looks at the small object now sitting on his palm. A faint sweet smell wafts into his nose; he can easily tell that there is a piece of chocolate in there. The wrapper and packaging are nowhere near as fancy as the store-bought one Shoko gave to them earlier but the small, translucent light blue pouch and the bright yellow ribbon seem pretty neat in and out of themselves. No matter how he looks at it, this one must be homemade.
“You… How…?”
“I made it myself. Don’t worry, I didn’t put anything funny in there,” to his dumbstruck face, his best friend only smiles, “The taste should be alright, but it may not be as tasty as the one you buy from the stores. Sorry about that.”
“No, I mean… You giving me this… Does this mean what I think it is…?”
“It does. Are you surprised?” Geto lets out a small laugh, “But if it bothers you, there’s no need to eat it. You can just throw it away.”
He speaks so calmly as if the topic of their conversation is nothing of much importance, as if they are simply talking about the weather. Gojo cannot understand how this person can retain so much composure while he himself is about ready to explode. In all his life, he has never felt his heart falling into so much turmoil as it does now, and he thinks it is unfair that the cause of his suffering does not look anywhere as troubled as him.
However, right before he voices his complaint, he catches the sight of Geto’s hands quivering ever so slightly at his sides.
“...Suguru, you bastard. You’re actually pretty nervous yourself, aren’t you?”
As though to confirm his suspicion, Geto looks at him again with a little smile.
“I said you can throw it away, but if possible, please do it later when I’m not looking, alright?” he says.
And that is all it takes to wipe away all of Gojo’s worries.
“Are you kidding me? You’re telling me to throw this away?” he snorts, turning the small pouch of homemade chocolate in his hand, “Suguru, are you being serious?”
“Do I strike you as someone who will do something like this as a joke, Satoru?”
“No, definitely not,” Gojo scratches the back of his head, “Aah, seriously, you…”
He struggles to find the right words to say. Yet Gojo soon realizes that it would be faster to just express his thoughts through action instead of fumbling with confusing ideas. And so, he unties the ribbon on the pouch, unwraps the small bag of chocolates inside, then tosses one piece into his mouth.
The smile on Suguru’s face disappears at that very second, and Gojo cannot help but revel in the rare sight of his best friend’s dumbfounded expression.
“It’s not half bad,” he says, smiling from ear to ear, “Should I give one back to you on White Day, Suguru?”
“...If you don’t mind,” to his question, eventually, Geto can only smile.
“I wouldn’t mind giving it to you. In return, next year, make me something like this again. And you better maintain the quality and taste, if not improve them.”
“Alright. I suppose I’ll need to start practicing from now on.”
“You better,” Gojo says, “Suguru.”
“Hmm?”
When his best friend turns at him, Gojo takes a step forward and leans into him. It lasts only for a few seconds, but it is more than enough to convey his feelings to the chocolate giver through the brief touch of their lips.
“I change my mind,” in a low voice, Gojo whispers to him, “I don’t really want to check out those cake shops anymore.”
“...What do you want to do then?” Geto seems slightly flustered but he does not pull back.
The faint scent of chocolate floats between them as they speak.
“Let me think…” he takes Geto’s hand into his own, “Right now, I feel like I really want to hold you.”
He sees the dark spheres in his best friend’s eyes dilating for a split second. Does his statement take him by surprise? Perhaps, perhaps not. All he knows is that in the next moment, that familiar, gentle smile of Suguru finds its way to him once more.
More than pretty words, that is all he ever needs.
***
“Here you go, Gojo.”
Lifting his face, Gojo sees his old friend, Ieiri Shoko, standing in front of his teacher’s desk. Through the white gauze blindfolding his eyes, he notices that she is placing a small object down on his table, pushing it toward him.
“What’s this?” he asks, pulling a part of the gauze to reveal one of his blue eyes.
“Chocolate, obviously.”
“Oh, right, right. It’s already that time of the year again, Valentine’s Day,” saying this, he accepts the small gift, immediately catching sight of the familiar chocolate brand printed in the corner of the neat packaging, “Thanks, Shoko.”
“No problem,” she smiles subtly, “How many of those have you gotten this year, Gojo- sensei ?”
“Huh? What makes you think I’ll be getting a lot of chocolates?”
“I thought you always say how good of a teacher you are and how popular you are with the students?”
“Shoko… How many female students do you think we have this year?” sprawling over the desk, the strongest sorcerer of the modern world purses his lips and shamelessly displays a pouting face, “I mean, we never have that many students to begin with, and Maki- chan even glares at me when I ask her if she’s going to give me chocolates. I’m so hurt…”
“Well, I can't really blame her for that,” Shoko shrugs heartlessly, disregarding his complaints, “But you do get one, don't you? You always get one every year.”
“...What if I tell you I haven't received it today?”
His answer makes his old classmate raise her brow.
“For real?”
“For real,” Gojo displays a smile that isn't quite a smile, “All these years, it always arrives in the morning but look, it's already way past lunchtime by now.”
“Perhaps he's delayed,” Shoko's voice is perpetually calm yet for once, there is a hint of concern in her tone, “There are still many hours left until the day ends. You just have to wait a bit longer.”
“Really? When he breaks the regular habit he's been keeping for years?”
“Then, why don't you go look for him?”
Gojo looks up at her.
“You mean you want me to collect my annual offering from the person himself?”
“That’s one excuse you can use,” Shoko neither agrees nor disagrees with him, “It's not like you don't know where he is. And even if you don't, you can easily find his location in a short time. After all, he hasn't exactly been trying to lay low either all these years.”
She taps on the desk a few times, then straightens her back.
“In any case, I'm getting back to work,” she says, “Enjoy your one and only giri choco this year, Gojo- sensei . See you later.”
And so she leaves, just as suddenly as she arrives.
In the meantime, Gojo remains sitting behind his desk for a long time; all traces of smile and jest have disappeared from his face.
“...It's not like I don't know where he is…huh?” he mumbles to himself, “That’s pretty straightforward of her, to put it so bluntly like that.”
Because he, of all people, knows that everything she said just now is true.
Ten years have passed since Suguru defected to become the vilest curse user known in their time. In order to pursue his ideal, he has been presenting himself as a monk with a cult of his own, known for his capability to exorcise evil spirits that have been haunting people who believe in it — certainly for a price.
Shoko was right. It isn’t as if Geto has been trying to hide himself all this time. The reason why those old farts in their high seats haven’t been pushing on his immediate detainment and execution is, probably, due to the fact that they are lacking in sorcerers strong enough to defeat a special-grade curse manipulator like him.
Of course, there is always the option to rely on him, Gojo Satoru. But would they, when they know exactly how opposed he is to the way they are governing the Jujutsu society despite lacking neither the strength to overpower Geto Suguru nor the resources to find him?
“How complicated…” Gojo thinks while stretching on his seat. He picks up the store-bought chocolate that his former classmate has just given him and starts peeling off the wrapper, soon stuffing himself with the sweet treat while drowning further in thoughts.
Trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved is like chasing after the sun setting into the mountains. You can see it, but no matter how far you try to reach out, you will never be able to get a hold of it, similar to how one can never arrive at the foot of the rainbow regardless of how far they run.
It isn’t as if he hasn’t been looking for Suguru. He simply never tries to do so. After all, what is he going to say to him once they meet? What should he do once they come face to face? Suguru already made it clear on the day they parted: This is the life he’s chosen, and all he can do is give his best effort to achieve the justice he has chosen to believe in. He was even prepared to be killed by Gojo right then and there, a statement clearer than words that he has no plan on turning back.
That’s why, Gojo never tries to look for him.
In spite of their falling out, however, for some reason, Geto is still keeping that little promise they made in their youths. For nine years straight since then, even if they have never seen and spoken to each other in person, a set of homemade chocolate will always find its way to Gojo’s doorstep on the morning of Valentine’s Day. They are all wrapped in a small, translucent light blue pouch and decorated with a bright yellow ribbon, exactly like the first gift that person offered to him that day, along with his heart and feelings.
And Gojo always eats each and every one of them down to the very last bite.
They smell the same; they taste the same. In all those nine years, the taste of those chocolates never change.
Only this year, only this year he has not received anything from that person.
“...Ahh, dammit–!” tossing the now empty chocolate wrapper to a nearby trash bin, Gojo rises to his feet and pulls out his phone, dialing a number before placing the device to his ear, “Ichiji? Yeah, I need you to do something for me. And no, it’s not work-related. I’m asking you for a favor.”
***
It is already dark by the time Gojo arrives at his destination. The snow is falling heavily; wherever he walks, his shoes sink into the pile of snow on the ground and leave a long trail behind him — though they are soon erased by the snowfall.
Three and a half hours — That is all it takes for Ichiji, with the resources Gojo provided to him, to complete his search on a wanted criminal who has supposedly been on the run for ten years. And as he expected, the person they are looking for really never leaves far from the city.
Gojo stands in front of an inconspicuous-looking house standing in the midst of a quiet residential area. From the outside, it doesn’t look any different from all the neighboring houses next to and across from it. The building is neither new nor old, neither big nor small, with a small garden at the side that is now covered entirely in white. All in all, it is a modest-looking house in a modest suburb inhabited by modest families.
This is definitely not the only hideout Geto has ever used throughout all these years but among all the other properties owned by his cult, his most recent traces are found around this particular area. Therefore, Gojo decides to take a look for himself at this house first and foremost before checking the other places — and he can tell that he hit the mark without needing to go inside. Why, he can never mistake the existence of a man named Geto Suguru, be it his presence, his cursed energy, his smell, his everything.
And he is sure Suguru feels the same way toward him, too.
“...That said, if I were him, I would’ve sent out at least a cursed spirit or two to block my entry. They won’t be able to stop me, of course, but he could use them to test and see what my intentions for coming are.”
In fact, he does not sense any notable cursed spirits standing guard around the house at all. There are a few weak ones, like the Fly Heads and their kin, but those are the type of weaklings that can be found practically everywhere around the city. Someone as careful and calculating as Geto would never make the careless mistake of leaving himself open to external threats like this, not to mention that he has those two girls from that village living with him — the final catalyst of his descent to the dark path of a curse user.
Finding the circumstances bizarre in a way so unlike the person he believes to know well, Gojo decides to take a step forward, easily jump over the gate, and enter the house from the side garden. The lights are still on inside the house. From where he stands among the bald snow-covered trees and bushes, he can see a sliding glass door leading to what looks like a kitchen and a dining room.
Beyond that door, someone is sitting alone at the dining table, completely oblivious to Gojo’s intrusion into their property.
Thump.
For the first time in ten years, Gojo feels his heart beating hard — not just once but in rapid succession. He manages to quell the racing heartbeat quickly, but it does not change the fact that it has happened.
Was it excitement, nervousness, or fear? If it’s the first, was the idea of a reunion excited him? If it’s the second, was the thought of meeting someone he hasn’t seen for ten years unnerved him? If it’s the third, what was he scared about?
Refusal?
Or was he actually afraid of acceptance?
Behind his calm exterior, Gojo’s mind is running at a speed faster than light, turning and churning like a maelstrom with no head or tail in sight. In the meantime, his body is moving on its own before the brain can decide on a command to give, approaching the glass door and knocking on it three times.
The lone figure sitting in the dining room is alerted. When they finally realize Gojo’s presence right there, a mere few steps away on the porch, their eyes widen as they stand up abruptly, almost toppling the chair.
“Satoru?!”
Geto stares in disbelief at him. For a moment, he seems to be petrified, and Gojo cannot help but wonder if he would decide not to let him in. However, in spite of his shock, Geto scurries toward the door and slides it open for him at once, all the while still staring straight into his eyes — as if trying to see through the blindfold.
“How did you get here?! Did you search for– No, forget it, of course you’d be able to find me if you want. Rather than that, what are you doing here?” he asks.
Gojo is just about to open his mouth to answer but at that very second, a pile of snow falls from the roof onto him — though it ends up floating just above his head courtesy of his Infinity. In fact, all of the falling snow from the time he arrives in front of the house has accumulated so much above him, stopped by the Infinity before touching his hair, that it looks like a thick, solid cloud is hanging above his head.
Geto sees this and his expression turns into a complicated one. It seems that he does not know if he should laugh or cry at this unexpectedly comical display. In the end, he chooses to take a step aside, making way for his old friend.
“Since you’re already here, come in first,” he says, “Sit down wherever you want.”
“You’re letting me in?”
“I’m not that heartless to let someone stand out there in the cold at this hour,” the man known as the most dreadful among all curse users sighs, “So? What are you doing, trespassing into someone’s house like this out of the blue? Were you trying to get yourself arrested?”
“Hmph. Who can arrest me? I’ll give them a hundred million yen if they can so much as lay a finger on me,” Gojo shrugs nonchalantly, “That said, Suguru, you–”
Geto raises his brow, waiting for him to finish what he wants to say. But for a long time after that, Gojo finds himself falling into a pause.
In all these ten years, he had never seen the man who was once his best friend and beloved in person. The last time he laid his eyes on him was on the day they parted ways in Shinjuku, so his memories of “Geto Suguru” are frozen to that specific timeframe and the previous years they spent as students. Sure, he’d seen Geto’s candid pictures taken by the Windows and others, donning a monk’s robe wherever he went, letting his hair grow long. But a picture can never fully represent the real person; when he looked at those photos, a part of him always felt like he was looking at someone else.
Yet now, the person he once loved is standing right here in front of him, the actual person himself in the flesh.
Suguru is not wearing the black robe with a green-and-gold outer garment that has become his signature look in the past decade. On his person, there is only a loose black sweater and similarly long black pants that look like they have been worn many times. He lets his hair loose instead of tying it up into a half bun like usual. Save for the fact that his body is slightly taller and his hair is longer, there is almost no difference between the Geto Suguru he is looking at now and the one who went to school together with him in the past, who used to live in the same building as him, and shared a bed with him after their moments of passion.
At this sight, a single realization thus emerges in Gojo’s mind, making itself loud and clear:
Even now, he is still very much in love with this person.
“Satoru?”
“...Your hideout is completely unguarded,” Gojo finally says.
“What?”
“You didn’t put up a barrier or have cursed spirits keeping watch around the house. I practically strolled in here and you didn’t even notice until I knocked on the door, did you?”
“Huh?! But– Shit, you’re right. How could I forget?” rumpling his hair, Geto unconsciously curses under his breath, “Wait here for a moment. I’ll go let some of my cursed spirits out.”
“No need for that,” Gojo catches his arm, stopping the latter in his tracks, “You can rest easy for tonight. Nobody will come as long as I’m here. More importantly…”
He steps closer, leaning down to speak in a lower voice that only the two of them can hear.
“I haven’t received my annual offering this year, even though I’ve been waiting for it all day since morning,” he whispers, “So I thought I should just come and collect it myself.”
At first, Geto stares at him in bewilderment but it doesn’t take long for him to understand what Gojo means. A tiny smile appears on his face; Gojo does not know if it is a smile of amusement or something else entirely.
“You’re right. I really am late to deliver it this year,” Geto throws a glance at the dining table behind them, “I was just about to put it together and send it over to you.”
Gojo follows his line of sight. Pulling down a part of his blindfold to reveal one of his blue eyes, he finds several pieces of chocolate sitting on the table, fresh out of the molds. There is a set of clean, new wrappers next to them, as well as an empty, translucent light blue pouch and a roll of yellow ribbon.
He really was in the middle of assembling the gift before Gojo interrupted him with his unannounced arrival.
“Well then, since you’re here, I guess it’s actually perfect. I don’t need to–” Geto coughs once and clears his throat, “–I don’t need to sneak around and give it directly to you instead.”
Coughing once more and sniffling slightly, he turns around and heads for the kitchen.
“Have a seat, Satoru. Is tea alright with you?”
“As long as it’s not too bitter,” Gojo says, “That said, Suguru, are you alright?”
“Hmm? As you can see, I am perfectly well and not missing any limbs.”
“That’s not it, you idiot,” clicking his tongue, Gojo steps forward and grabs him by the shoulder, “I’m asking if you’re sick.”
“I’m not–”
Before Geto can say another word, Gojo already places his hand on the other’s forehead, feeling his temperature.
“...Liar. You definitely have a fever.”
Now that they are standing face-to-face in the same room, having been speaking to each other for some time within close proximity, Gojo finally notices that the other person’s complexion is slightly pale. The tip of his nose is a bit red; when he speaks, his voice actually sounds somewhat nasal and his movements are sluggish. Is this the reason why he inadvertently lets his guard down, neglecting to cast a barrier or making cursed spirits guard his home? Gojo cannot help but consider this possibility in mind. But more than that, he wonders why he only realizes this now. Was he really that overwhelmed by their reunion that he failed to see this earlier?
“...I caught Mimiko and Nanako’s cold the other day,” eventually Geto concedes. He gently removes Gojo’s hand from his face. “Fortunately, the girls recovered quickly, though I still told them to rest early for the time being.”
“What about you?”
“I’ve taken my medicine, so I’ll be alright. The fever’s actually not that high compared to yesterday.”
“I’m alright.”
“The fever’s not that high.”
“Fortunately, the girls recovered quickly.”
Gojo listens to him speak while keeping his thoughts to himself.
Suguru has always been like this. It does not matter if it was in the past or the present day; it does not matter how many years have passed. He always puts others before himself, especially those he cares about.
“Geto Suguru massacred the entire village.”
“Geto Suguru killed his own parents.”
“Geto Suguru is the worst among all curse users.”
And yet the man condemned by the entire Jujutsu society is now standing in front of him, coughing and sniffling from a cold that he contracted from other people.
Gojo is willing to bet his entire family’s fortune that the reason Geto catches this illness is because he was tending to those girls that he raised like his own daughters. But he knows Geto will never admit it. What was it again? “Suguru, have you gotten thinner?” — he had asked him this question that day ten years ago, and the answer he received was “It’s just fatigue from the heat, I’m alright.” Yet the next thing Gojo knew, he had lost the person dearest to him, his one and only best friend, forever.
“Satoru, what are you doing?”
“Taking you to bed,” Gojo pulls on his arm, “Tell me where your bedroom is. How can you be sitting there making chocolates when you’re not feeling well?”
“But I’m–”
“No ‘buts.’ A sick person must stay in bed.”
“Satoru.”
There is no hint of irritation in Geto’s voice but he still put some strength into standing his ground, forcing Gojo to stop and look at him.
“I’m almost done with it,” Geto says with a subtle smile on his face, “I’ll go to bed after this, so… Let me finish it…please?”
A soft laugh escapes his lips.
“I mean, you’ve come all the way here to get it, after all. I couldn’t possibly send you home empty-handed.”
Gojo looks at him and thinks that this person is very unfair.
Does he know that there is no way Gojo can say no to that face and smile? Despite his unhappiness, Gojo ends up letting the other man return to the dining table to complete the last step of his chocolate-making. In the meantime, he sits on the chair across from him, staring at the person and the process both while sipping on a cup of warm sweetened tea provided by the homeowner.
“...That pouch, where did you get it?” he asks after a long silence.
“Hmm?”
“You always give the chocolate to me in the same light blue pouch and ribbon. Did you keep buying it from the same store in the last ten years?”
“I bought the ribbon roll when I decided to make the first chocolate for you. Since I never use it for anything else, it doesn’t really run out to this day,” replies Geto, “As for the pouch, it’s not store-bought.”
“You’re telling me you made it?”
“Does that surprise you?” Geto smiles at him.
“No, just… I didn’t know you could sew.”
“Just the very basic. When you live alone, like the time when we stayed in the school dormitory, sometimes you’d end up learning some new life skills, even if you never plan to. It proves to come in handy, especially after I took in Mimiko and Nanako to live with me,” says Geto again, “But you probably couldn’t relate to that, could you, Satoru? After all, you’re the kind of person who’d throw away a whole shirt and buy a new one even if it’s just missing a button.”
“If I had known you could do this, I would’ve asked you to sew the button back for me,” Gojo purses his lips.
“What a pity. I really should’ve done that and charged you a service fee every single time.”
Gojo watches as Geto’s eyes shrink into a pair of crescents when he laughs. Despite not being in top health, the movements of his hands are nimble when he arranges the chocolate pieces into the wrappers one by one. It’s the first time Gojo has ever seen him making this chocolate gift in person, even though he has been eating this exact same thing for ten years straight on the same day every year. While he continues to be secretly mesmerized, Geto swiftly finishes assembling the gift. He puts the chocolates into the light blue pouch and ties the ribbon neatly around it.
“Alright, here you go. Sorry for the delay,” he smiles at Gojo, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Satoru.”
For a brief few seconds, Gojo almost forgets that the two of them are supposed to stand on opposing sides. That smile of his and his gentle voice bring him back to the days when they were still nothing more than a pair of foolish youths who knew only how to have fun and fight to their hearts’ content. He accepts the gift, untying the ribbon that has just been placed on it, and pops one of the chocolate pieces into his mouth.
“Oh, you’re eating it straight away?” Geto looks somewhat surprised.
“Is that a problem?”
“No. I just thought you’d be more alert or something. What if this wanted criminal put something weird in there?”
“Well, did you?”
“I didn’t, of course,” Geto laughs again in a slightly raspy voice, “How is it, Satoru? I always tasted the chocolate before sending it to you, but as you can see, I’m having a cold now so my nose and tongue aren’t working too well.”
“It’s good,” Gojo says while chewing.
“It is?”
“Yeah,” he swallows the first piece of chocolate and immediately eats the second one, “It tastes the same.”
“By that, do you mean my skill hasn’t improved in the past ten years?” Geto pretends to pout, “I guess that’s as far as an amateur like me can go.”
“When did I say that? I never mentioned anything about your skills not being up to par,” says Gojo, “I’m telling you that I’m glad it still tastes the same.”
“You do?”
“It’s a taste that only you can make,” Gojo quickly finishes the whole set of chocolates, “The taste of Suguru’s homemade chocolate that only I know about.”
“......Then, I’ll gladly take that as a compliment,” says Geto, brushing the hair falling to the side of his face to the back of his ear, “Well, I’ve fulfilled my duty this year. I can finally rest easy tonight, knowing that I’ve cleared my debt.”
“You’re going straight to sleep?”
“After seeing you off, yes. Aren’t you the one who told me earlier that a sick person must stay in bed?”
“Hmm…”
“What is it, Satoru?”
“Nothing,” Gojo drinks the rest of his tea to rinse his mouth from the sticky chocolate, “I did plan on going back home after collecting my annual offering, but now I finally remember that there’s something else I want to do.”
“Oh? What do you want to do?”
“Let me think…” pulling off the entire white gauze covering his eyes, those bright blue spheres of his look straight into Geto’s, “Right now, I feel like I really want to hold you.”
***
What does a longing for ten years look like?
How does a yearning for a decade feel to the person who yearns and the person being yearned for?
People change with time. Their image that lives on in the minds of the ones missing them is but a fragment of memories from a frozen past. The longer people are separated, the more distorted that image will become. Positive feelings will exaggerate the beauty of the original image while negative feelings will result in the opposite. Sometimes, it will even birth an entirely fabricated image, jumbling imagination and reality together to blur the initial memory.
Gojo is well aware that no matter how strong of a person he is, sorcerer or not, his mind is no exception to this phenomenon. Throughout these years, whenever he remembered the person named “Geto Suguru” who once stood at his side as his equal, he sometimes asked himself if he was thinking of the real Geto Suguru or the Geto Suguru who was born from the longing in his heart. He would not deny that he frequently wondered how it would be if they were to meet again. He would even go as far as to admit that there was at least a tad bit of uneasiness budding in him from the mere thought that the real living Geto Suguru of the present day would be entirely different from the one living in his thoughts.
Yet tonight, he discovers that all his doubts and fears back then were unfounded when it comes to the two of them.
“...What a way to care for a sick person,” Geto laughs in spite of his heavy breathing, “So when you said you wanted to take me to bed, you actually meant that you wanted to join me, huh?”
“I wasn’t thinking of joining you before, but you made me want to do it.”
“Now it’s my fault? Truly, Satoru, how more whimsical can you get?”
“I’ll take full responsibility and nurse you back to health after this,” Gojo ignores his teasing, “For now, let’s just focus on this.”
Geto’s body tenses as he bites back a moan from leaving his lips when the other person’s manhood resumes its repeated movements of sliding into and out of him. A drop of sweat falls from his temple; his back arches slightly in a clear display of how much pleasure is beginning to eat at his usually unassailable composure.
From the place where they are connected, lust drips and overflows to stain the bedsheet beneath them.
Myriads of thoughts run through Gojo’s mind as he holds Geto’s waist in his palms and pushes himself deep into his body. It’s much warmer inside Suguru than he expected, perhaps due to his slight fever. The longer he ravishes him, the more Suguru’s defense crumbles, and the sweeter his voice sounds. His hair is scattered down his back, his fingers are clutching at the pillow, and tears begin to form in the reddened corners of his eyes.
Just like in the past.
The weight of his breasts in Gojo’s hands remains the same.
The places that will bring him the greatest pleasure when touched are the same.
The way he would grit his teeth and bite down on his lips to hold back his moans also remains the same.
He clings to anything he can get his hands on, depending on the position he is made to face by the man ravishing his body. When he is lying face down, he will clutch and pull at the bedsheet or the pillow. When he is lying face up, he will cling to Gojo as if his life depended on it, unconsciously clawing at his back.
And when the pleasure has become too great for him to withstand, he will resort to breathlessly calling to “Satoru” in tears, begging him for salvation from the unbearable suffering born from their mutual desire.
Geto Suguru has defected from the path of righteousness and murdered hundreds of people, but his Suguru has never changed.
Geto Suguru has lied and deceived many others, but his Suguru is still as honest as ever when there are only the two of them together.
Geto Suguru is the vilest curse user of their time, just like how Gojo Satoru is the strongest sorcerer in this day and age, but nothing about him changes in Gojo’s eyes.
Nothing, save for the fact that after this night passes, they must walk their separate ways once more, unlike their past selves who were free to spend all their waking hour staying side by side.
“Satoru… Satoru…”
His voice is both a knife that tears at Gojo’s heart and spring water that makes flowers bloom in his chest. If he listens to it any longer, he hasn’t the slightest idea what it will do to him, or what it will make him do. So Gojo decides to seal this voice by kissing Suguru and inflicting more pleasure on his body, until the latter can no longer find it in him to speak.
“I like you. I love you. I adore you the most.” — These words that should’ve been easily shared between lovers are always sparsely shared between them. When they were younger, they could say this to each other whenever they wanted without thinking about the consequences, but it is different now with the way things are between them and the outside world. It is like a taboo, Gojo thinks, and when he looks at Suguru’s eyes in front of him, he knows that this person also understands as much — that should one or both of them break this unspoken rule, the road they are walking on and everything they hold in their hands would shatter beyond recognition.
Neither of them can change the past, just like how they cannot turn back time.
That’s why, Gojo decides to send these words in the form of a kiss instead, and receives the reciprocation in the same form from the other person. And it is also the reason why they find it hard to part, now that their lips have finally met one another.
“...Will you keep making me those chocolates again next year and the years after?” Gojo asks him, “If you can’t deliver it, let me know and I’ll come to pick it up in person.”
He sees Suguru smiling at him upon hearing his demand.
“Sure,” Geto says, “I’ll make it for you every single year.”
***
“...Now that I think about it, you’re actually quite a liar, aren’t you, Suguru?”
“Huh? What brings this up all of a sudden?”
In the airport’s spacious waiting lounge, the two of them are sitting next to each other on the long bench, dressed in their regular high school uniforms.
Gojo sees Geto raising his brow, throwing a confused and protesting look at his earlier remark. But he has a basis for his argument, and he isn’t going to take back what he already said.
“First, every time I asked you if something was the matter, you would always brush it off and say that you were fine. Second, you told me you’d make me chocolates every year on Valentine’s Day, but you went ahead and left before the next Valentine even arrived after that. Be honest with me, Suguru. When I came to visit you that night, you already started your scheming on that so-called ‘Night Parade of a Hundred Demons,’ weren’t you?” Gojo stares at him, pursing his lips, “And you still said that to me when you have no intention of fulfilling that promise. What a horrible person you are.”
“...Haha. Yeah, I supposed I was at fault for that. Sorry,” Geto casts his gaze down slightly, “But, Satoru, if I had won instead of Okkotsu, I would be able to send you chocolates as usual, wouldn’t I? Though, you probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do anymore with someone who hurt your students.”
“If you had won and obtained Orimoto Rika, you would’ve proceeded with your plan on eliminating all non-sorcerers from this country, or even from the whole world. Putting aside me wanting to accept it or not, there might not be a lot of those chocolate shops left for you to buy your ingredients from.”
“You’re right. It would’ve been difficult to procure the ingredients,” Geto laughs.
From the side, Gojo watches as his best friend’s eyes shrink into a pair of crescents, unchanging even after everything that has happened.
“Anyway, that means you owe me a year’s worth of chocolate,” Gojo crosses his long legs carelessly, draping both of his arms along the head of the bench; one of them goes behind Geto’s body, “Next Valentine, you better give me at least three sets of those gifts.”
“Three? But I thought I only missed one year. Added with the one for next year, that only makes it two sets.”
“One is your penalty for missing that one year and making me terribly upset. I deserve a compensation, don’t I?”
“Alright, alright, I understand,” Geto does not fight him, “But Satoru, where do I even find the place to buy the ingredients here?”
“Well, it’s an airport. There are sure to be a lot of shops here, and at least one of them must be selling sweets.”
“What about the kitchen to make the chocolate?”
“There must be one somewhere out there. Or…” Gojo throws him a cheeky grin, “We can go back to the school dormitory. That was where you made your first chocolate for me, right? Were you nervous back then, Suguru? Or were you blushing while assembling the gift?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geto avoids his question but still smiles at him in return, “But sure, let’s go there. It would take a while to walk there on foot, though, because we have no one to drive us there.”
“It’s fine. We’re not in a hurry, aren’t we?”
“And we have all the time in the world now, just for you and I.”