Under the Overpass ~ SatoSugu

Chapter 2

Ashamedly, the following mission was one that Gojo took alone, though as per usual it was offered up to him with the possible accompaniment of Geto, if he so desired.

He briefly explained in what he avoided to be a stammering panic that the reason was beyond him, and instead in the hands of those higher up: "They just love me more, that's all. Don't twist your panties, I'll be back soon!"

To which Geto's eye twitched, but both mutually dropped the train incident. Everything returned to as it was.

The mission went on for much longer than usual, as it was a further commute, and the curse took ages to reveal itself, but that didn't stop Geto from worrying. He knew that Gojo was as close as a human could get to godly, but the immense weight of his techniques, and the overwhelming reliance the elders had on him was enough to degrade any person after extensive exposure.

Heaven found itself on Earth in the vessel form of Gojo, at least in Geto's eyes. From birth, he was their savior and bridge between sorcerers and those not. He is the honored one.

Suguru kept to himself; training solo, and studying without the constant interjections. Yet he woke each morning hoping that day would be the one in which his friend returned. Without Satoru, things were too tame and quiet. He kept his phone on, but knew that when roles were reversed, picking up, let alone dialing first was a last priority or thought.

"HAHA," Gojo's sunglasses had exploded into shards below, but he had yet to notice. He floated. Off the ground many feet above the dim-witted curse. He rose both hands and a clap sent earth around the poor, squirming thing without giving any chance to know what hit it.

"Well damn, I liked that pair." Gojo bent from the waist with hands in his pockets to inspect his poor sunglasses, or what remained of them. He sent a photo to Geto with a broken heart carved into the dirt on both sides of the scene.

Just a few minutes later, he could already feel how much brighter his surroundings were. He was overwhelmingly more aware of everything he was, and the tension headache set in almost immediately.

He did the only thing he knew to do and called Geto, who had previously left the photography on read.

"Suguru," he looked up toward the blue sky, trying to avoid the busyness of everything around him. Geto had answered within the first cycle of ringing, "Yeah?" He tried to play off his nerves, and hearing that voice on the other end of the line was an easing sound for them both.

"Am I ugly? Yes or no." Had Gojo been face to face with him at that moment, he would have seen the most disturbed expression of disgust on Geto's face before he hung up the phone.

Gojo pretended to wave away a faint, "Oh, I knew it." He snickered to himself, but quickly stopped at the pulsating pain that wrapped around his eyes and to the back of his head, pocketing the flip-phone.

On yet another ride back, his pain had manifested into a raging migraine, accompanied by nausea and vertigo even when sitting still. He let strings of insults leave his mouth, all directed at his mind, pressing firm palms into the sockets of his closed eyes.

Upon his return, Geto pretended to be unfazed, annoyed even, but Gojo was beyond relieved and Geto would never admit that he missed him. For some unknown force entranced him when they were together, a power great enough to distract from even the most painful of pain. It made him feel like relief was something he had the privileges of indulging in.

It had continued to worsen though. "Satoru." The tone was immensely calm and soft, "How long has it been since you let your technique go?" He circled Gojo, taking note of his physical exhaustion.

"I'm fine." He came off far more irritable than having meant to be. Geto didn't step back, instead, he retrieved something from his pockets. A blindfold.

In Gojo's defense, he was fine when it came to Infinity. Geto was correct in deducing that he hadn't dropped it much the whole time he was gone, but Gojo could hold it up for hours at a time now. Something else he hadn't let him in on, but he knew what Geto meant, even if he wasn't quite spot on. This just didn't happen to be the moment to explain that his pain was birthed from that which he'd had since the same event. His innate gift that applied the honor of generations past was the same one that caused such agony.

"Sit down." The command made his heart jump, but his mind calm. Gojo found a seat and allowed his friend to stand behind him, dropping Infinity and his shoulders. Something wrapped around his head, and for a moment he considered putting up a barrier, but this was Suguru, and he knew it wouldn't be malicious. A fabric was wrapped in slightly messy laps around his head, and secured in a nice knot after.

It was as though he could think again. His thoughts also belonged to him again, and he wanted to laugh at the relief.

"Suguru, if you had wanted me in this position, you should have had me sit on the edge of a bed first."

It felt leaps and miles better than having just sunglasses on, but it meant that the small details of Geto were no longer seeable and that was not something that Gojo would allow to be commonplace moving forward. That feeling of closeness and ability to give off more emotion himself too was a trade that he would make, even if in exchange for throbbing pain. For this moment, however, he would keep on the wrapped fabric until new sunglasses were bought and felt the ease of conjuring one-liners that annoyed everyone around him return.

Suguru composed himself, something he found himself having to do more and more recently. "Yeah, I think I'll pass. In fact, I'd rather fully pass away than have you on my bed."

"So if it was my bed, you'd reconsider?" This time, the line even stunned Gojo momentarily after having said such a thing, but he continued to let confidence be the only emotion that his smile wore. A fire started in his heart, one that he hadn't let gain access to dry kindling for years.

"You've gone mad." Suguru whacked him on the back of the head sharply.