Ex's & Oh's | Gojo Satoru ✓

➸ we're still in a flashback, we just have a different perspective this time

[Y/N]'s POV:

I stand before Principal Yaga—my hands shaking as I hand him my official resignation letter. My heart feels heavy and a lump forms in my throat as memories of everything that happened last night between Gojo and I flood my mind. I really do not think we can ever come back from this; I genuinely don't see how that can be possible considering our circumstances.

"You don't have to leave, [Y/N]." He looks sullen as he takes the letter from me, placing it down on his desk. I think he can see by the look on my face that I really do not have any other choice in the matter, that my decision is final, that's why he isn't stopping me. He isn't bribing me. He just woefully accepts that this is the way things have to be.

I struggle to find the right words to explain why I can no longer continue working in a place where every corner holds a reminder of my highly tumultuous, highly destructive relationship with Gojo that has all been built on lies. My heart aches just thinking about it. Even being in the same place as Gojo Satoru right now is too much to bear, and I don't think anyone in this world can convince me to stay. I must leave for the sake of my own healing.

"Did you know?" My voice cracks as I ask the one person in this entire world who is supposed to protect me from all the bad men and brutal lies. He has failed me in both these aspects. "Have you known all along?"

He doesn't respond.

That alone tells me everything I need to know.

I let out a bitter, caustic laugh. "Of course."

The tears well up in my eyes as I turn away from him. This is it. My life in Tokyo is over—and it's now time to finish this chapter once and for all and start a new one. I suppose I'll be going back to Yokohama for the time being until I decide what I want to do for the rest of my life. Maybe I'll go travelling around the world one day, I suppose it's something I'll have to think about. Hopefully I'll meet a handsome man who has tons of money and then I won't need to work ever again; I can just sit at home and be a pretty socialite wife who goes to brunch every day and takes Pilates classes and my only problem will be deciding what kind of tiles will be best suited to my bathroom.

A girl can only wish.

I leave his office—probably for the final time.

As I trudge down the dimly lit hallway, my heart heavy with the weight of my goodbyes, all I can think about is how much I want to do nothing more than curl into a ball on my bed and cry myself to sleep. I think...I think this is the true definition of the word heartbreak. I think my heart is broken. I have never loved someone this hard in my life before. I have never had my heart shatter into a million brittle pieces like this before, either. Every breath feels like a knife twisting in my chest as memories swamp my mind, of laughter and whispered promises and the way his touch set my entire being alight.

I know it still could.

And then I pause.

I look up.

There he is, his expression unreadable. Gojo towers over me, his lips pursed in a peevish crease. As our eyes meet, I realise with a start that he must have already discovered my packed bags, ready for my impending departure. The tension between us is palpable as we stand in the middle of the hallway, locked in a silent confrontation.

"Why are your bags packed?" He asks me; his voice is laced with acid.

I ignore him, attempting to side-step out of the way and make a break for it, but his hand immediately wraps itself around my elbow and he yanks me back so that we are facing each other. "[Y/N], I'm not asking you again."

"Fuck off—" but just before I am about to knee him in the balls and valiantly attempt to run away before he forces me to speak to him, which means I'd have to stay in his presence longer than I can handle, there is a blinding flash of light, and the next thing I know, I'm in my bedroom where two of my large suitcases and a duffel bag sit on my bed, fully packed to the brim with all my clothes and belongings.

This motherfucker really just teleported us.

"How dare you." My fury is a tempestuous storm, raging within me, ready to leave destruction in its wake. I can't fucking believe him. I pick up my duffel bag while Gojo stands before me, his countenance dark with anger and contempt, his arms crossed over his chest; his expression mirroring my own.

"You can't just leave," he bellows—the hurt in his eyes is like a silent accusation, leaving me feeling as if I was the one who betrayed him first, when in reality, it was the other way around. "You can't just fucking leave when shit gets hard! We haven't even had a chance to talk about it."

I force myself to meet his gaze, my own anger and resentment burning inside me. I am hurt, too. I am so hurt that I literally feel like I can't breathe. I need to get out of here before I combust, but unfortunately because of my luck, this asshole is not allowing me to leave without making sure I speak to him first. "What is there to talk about, Gojo? And I'm leaving, that is my final decision. What reason do I have to stay here anymore?"

"Me." He breathes out the word. "I want to make things work. I can't lose you."

"Where did you go last night?" My lower lip quivers. "You left and then didn't come back until this morning. Where did you go?"

He remains silent.

I bark out a short, humourless laugh, shaking my head from side to side. The bitterness in my laugh is like a cold winter wind, blowing away any warmth in the room.

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't find out?" If there are tears streaming down my face right now, I have no idea. All I can feel is my heart being squeezed in a vice, the pain of his betrayal cutting deep. "You were with fucking Shoko."

"You slept with Geto first."

"Yeah," I reply, my voice trembling with so many different emotions that I feel as if I am choking on the words I wish to say. "Because our entire relationship was a lie. None of it was real."

Gojo's expression softens, a hint of remorse creeping into his eyes. "I have never lied about loving you." His voice cracks. "I didn't lie when I asked you to be my wife, when I told you I wanted you to be the mother of my children."

I hear the sound of something breaking—I'm sure it must be my heart. A sound so unfamiliar to me, I try to drown it out but I just can't seem to shake it.

"You don't understand how far I am willing to go for you, [Y/N]." The way he's looking at me, those eyes, he makes me weak. He always has. Weak. Fragile. Vulnerable. He leaves me with the worst possible aspects of a human being, taking everything else away. "If you leave now, it will break me."

Why does this have to hurt so, so badly?

My resolve wavers for a fleeting second, my heart torn between my love for him and my desire for freedom and self-respect. He has broken me in every way imaginable and yet he still has a special place in my fucking heart and it's killing me. I long to stay, to forgive and forget the past, but I know that we cannot recover from this.

The damage has already been done.

"We are done." I say, shouldering my duffel bag. My throat goes hoarse, my voice gets dry. "I don't want you in my life anymore."

And then, without looking back, I leave.

I leave him behind.