fuck buddies don't act like this (Gojo x Reader)

Chapter 61

War is an ugly concept to capture, paint and even uglier thing to feel as bayonets charges, skulls rupture and crumble underneath the force and pressure. It soars like fallen ash after the explosive eruptions of the volcano that you call Gojo Satoru waltzing back into your life. Another paralysing ache draws itself over your vertebrae, saliva dribbles past your lip and you wake in a fervour. Cheek plastered in linen, clammy cold sweats rash upon your body whilst the sheaf of light collapses your motivation in getting up, scrunching again your mind falls back into the comforts of your sheets.

Groaning you hunch over into a foetal position threading your fingers through your hair massaging at your scalp as the soothing sensations is brief and last as long as another intake of air. It breaks out in a fever at first paralysing you from the head down as if your cranium had a core of osmium then the ache travels down to your ribs caressing your organs with small spasms. Enough so that gut wrenching bile splashes up to your oesophagus and forces you out of bed, hands trembling around a glass of water. Dribbles of your own saliva and splashed water drip down beside the basin of the glass and onto your shirt that a bystander could mistake you for a wandering soul trapped in the heart of a desert.

"Argh, my head." Groaning your brows scrunch as your blurry vision blinks back into view of your messy apartment.

Your scattered portfolio case lies messily across the coffee table whilst your workstation; the hap-hazardously placed easel leaning against the wall covering your briefcase of paints. Glaring at the annoyingly slightly open window shutters sheafing gold rays of light across your face that you had forgotten to close properly after the fiasco Gojo had caused yesterday.

Coming back into your life graciously expecting forgiveness after telling a wild crazy story including monsters and wizards and then just vanishing before your very eyes. It's hard to believe and yet somehow your brain catches up faster before your feelings can tell what's up and what's down. Sure, he not only teleported you across the country and then proceeded to hold you with as much grace and care as he would have with a porcelain vase as he floated above Mount Fuji. But then telling a tale as if it rolls of the tongue sweetly weaving in sorcerers, a box? Evil spirits, a war and much more that soars your migraine even further into your temple.

Just who does he think he is?

Someone who can surely make a pass at you and then vanish after telling you that he loves you for the fourth time. It wasn't about the kiss... actually maybe yeah it was about that as well but suddenly appearing and disappearing as he pleases needs to stop. This isn't how it was last time; you're not going to fall into step with him and be there hanging on by the threads of his making. You have a life now, a good one to lead, it may be rocky and unsteady now but with the foundations that you're laying before yourself it just takes one simple moronic act of impulsiveness to ruin it all.

Him being that stupid, moronic act of impulsiveness.

It's not fun as it used to be waiting around on hand and foot for his beckoning call and then be taken somewhere lavishly, treated as if you were a golden encrusted crown that can be pranced around everywhere. As if those frivolous baseless actions jested to the world that you were well and truly his fool. Like many of them before you, you were expendable, replaceable but in the moment, you had it all, you were his and he was yours. The one and truly special one amongst a flock of sheep trying to barter for more time. More. More. More. But like the rest of them your usages for him ran dry and cold and you were no longer his plaything to toss around, poking you to do something exciting. Until you did.

You left and even then, that wasn't enough.

Only when your attention became someone else's that you're sure grated heavily onto his poor delicate ego, because no one can simply move on from 'The Great Gojo Satoru'. His techniques were sharp and always on point that you can't deny are his only truth, the luxury hotels, the fine wine and the great, no spectacular sex were his only selling points. However, you were sold like a desperate moth to a burning flame and somewhere inside your own twisted heart, strewn away in shambles is the scarred love for him.