Under the Overpass ~ SatoSugu

Chapter 1

"There is no curse more twisted than love."

"How do you know?" The boy crumpled and wept, turning the ring around and around the finger that leads to the heart. Gojo feared he may whither away entirely from the pain, and yet he saw himself in the eyes of the boy far too young to experience such devastation.

"It's my personal theory." He repeated. The young boy saw him bring the blindfold up and turn, but in that split second, waves swam in the teacher's blue eyes. Like small cups of water about to tip. A motion in them that the boy had never seen before. Then with a wipe, it was gone.

"Anyway," Gojo composed himself in an instant. He was reset. "Do more than just leave your name behind." He gave the boy an ominous command. In an odd sense, it made many things clear to Yuta, yet a behavior such as that was foreign to him coming from his teacher.

—-

"So, you wanna take this one out, or should I?" Geto asked, stretching his palms outwards above his head.

"You take this one," Gojo pointed to the squirming curse, "And then take me," he pointed two thumbs at his chest, "Out for crepes after." Geto blinked but recovered quickly and his nostrils exhaled in the slightest laugh.

"So that means I'm paying." Geto faced the curse. Gojo tapped both sides of his pockets, "Yeah," he drew the word out, "I seem to have left my wallet."

"Satoru," Geto turned, with fake shocked expression, "It looks like you."

The curse groaned, "It-S So- Hu-Mid..."

Geto didn't turn back, "It sounds like you too." By the end of the sentence, the overgrown, blue, slug-like curse had been obliterated and reduced to nothing more than a swirling orb.

The joking nature in Gojo then vanished and he wanted more now just to intervene. Before he could, his counterpart faced the other way, breathed in and swallowed. Though unannounced to Gojo, the toll of consuming the most vile, putrid, horrid acts and emotions of humanity's darkest moments, straight to his very core, made Suguru wince from every vein in his rejecting body. He didn't want to show that to Gojo, who he assumed would use it against him in a battle of 'who's stronger.' Little did he know, Gojo feared for the longevity of such acts to a large extent.

Geto cleared his throat, the speech now slightly more raspy, "You want crepes, then?"
Gojo smirked and met him by his side.

Upon entering the small establishment, Geto asked for his regular order, handing the whole wallet to Gojo, and retreated to the bathroom. He dry heaved, involuntarily forming tears. The sheer acidity of swallowing such an fetid, revolting matter tricked his body into thinking it needed to vomit, puke, or do anything to rid of the taste and texture. But once it was down, it was over. Even if his body didn't know as much.

He wiped his eyes with the thin toilet paper and flushed nothing but that down. He hoped the redness of his face wouldn't be too noticeable as he walked back out.

It was. It always was. Gojo read him like a book but knew better than to comment on it.
As Geto sat, Gojo had nearly finished his thin, filled pastry.
Suguru drank a full glass of water, asking if he could then drink the other, to which Gojo nodded, and only then, with a palette only somewhat cleansed could he even bare the thought of eating. When he eventually did, however, the foul taste was overridden by strawberries and cream and it was a welcome sense.

"Are you going to finish that?" Gojo asked, looking at the crepe that remained half-eaten across the small table.

"No." Geto pushed the throw-away plate towards him. He had wanted to finish the crepe but knew of Gojo's addiction to all things sweet, as well as the ongoing joke in just his mind. That being that Gojo's stomach was an endless pit, and though sometimes gross in its ability to inhale nearly a dozen burgers at one time, Geto respected the toll that his own techniques must carry too.

Therefore, he always ordered more than what he could possibly eat, or offered up the remainder of his plates with or without being asked. It was especially the case with crepes because he knew how much Gojo liked both flavors, but would never dream of ordering two for himself, even if his wallet wasn't the one to suffer.

Gojo tossed the wallet back to Geto, looking up from his sunglasses and the crepe still being halfway shoveled into his mouth.

They traveled by train back to Tokyo's Jujutsu High, and the pair silently fought on the bench seat. It was an odd time of day, and the train-car was relatively empty.

"Could you please move over?" Geto whispered, annoyed.

Gojo manspread his legs in a fake yawn.

"Are you serious?"
Geto shoved a knee back toward him. Gojo stuck his tongue out and took up as much room as possible once again. Geto's head turned slowly, like a rusted bolt, and stayed fixated on the sunglasses and vague blueness behind them.
He spread as far as he could too, pushing Gojo to the side slightly.

A battle ensued of who could occupy more of the bench. At first, only legs were at play, knees bumping each other and feet pressed against one another in hopes of budging the other's ankles. That quickly became not enough and Geto was first to unfurl his crossed arms and shove them in Gojo's face.

Onlookers began to stare and move away to other above hand holds, giving the two their quarreling space.

However, it only took one false move to cease all movement entirely. Geto dipped his head to remove the hand pressed against his cheek and jaw and elbowed his opponent in the stomach. In doing so, and aided by a turn of the train, a chain reaction occurred with the hand that was attempting to shove away his knee. It found itself precariously on Suguru's inner thigh. Geto looked up and couldn't quite see where Gojo's line of sight fell through the darkened shades.

Gojo retracted his hand instantly and snapped close all limbs back towards his body, looking forward. Geto sat for a moment before slowly doing the same and clearing his throat, scooting to put a small, but noticeable, gap between them.

A heavy awkwardness fell between the two, almost surely enough to create a cursed spirit that hugged onto both of them and resided on the train. Geto fumbled with one of his large earrings, now really hoping that his face was not red.

He was certain that Gojo was just an idiot, and that their relationship fell under the umbrella of friendship. He knew of Gojo's solitary upbringings, and how not only was he his only friend now, but his only friend ever. He took such with the conclusion that Satoru's comfortability stemmed from that fact. The comfortability that in turn, was very close.