Under the Overpass ~ SatoSugu

Chapter 12

Gojo once again had a mission to go on, but before leaving bright and early, placed a note on Geto's kettle.

"Meet me at the entrance at 6 pm sharp, dress fancy!" Geto questioned what he meant, but when the evening rolled around, showered and dressed as requested. He wore all black. Shiny black dress shoes, high-waisted flare-bottom pants, and tucked into them was a form-fitting button-up shirt. He wasn't sure if it was "dressy enough," and opted for a sleek satin tie as well.

He looked himself up and down in the mirror, noticing that he had lost significant weight. His eyes looked tired and his shoulders lost their upright stance without him consciously trying.

He waited as instructed, checking the time on his phone when it was a quarter past the hour.
"So much for 'sharp,' Satoru."
Gojo did little in terms of apologizing, and it was clear he was excited about something.

A silence fell as they looked at each other.
"You... look really nice-" It occurred to Geto he hadn't really seen Gojo cleaned up before. He wore dark blues as his pants and a waistcoat that brought out his pupils, and under which; a white shirt hugged his figure. He rolled it up at the elbows as they started walking.

They crossed the city to a high rise, taking an elevator all the way to the top. The windows overlooked a park and in the distance, a sliver of the harbor could be just barely seen. Gojo had taken special care in choosing a place with zaru soba, knowing how much Geto enjoyed it. Their table, which he also reserved, was tucked into a corner.

"How... can you afford this?" Geto pulled out Gojo's chair then his own, taking in the high-end establishment, glad he opted for the tie. It was the first time he'd been to such a place, or any place even remotely like it.

"Don't worry about it," Gojo winked.

They shared pleasant conversation, though heavily one-sided by Gojo, over a large bamboo plate of cold noodles. Just for a minute, things seemed as they once were. Geto felt comfortable and at ease. And Gojo saw it too. Which made it even more heartbreaking to tell him.

"Anyway," he pushed the sunglasses up a little, "Well," he bit the bullet, "I have to move out. Into an apartment."

Geto's heart sank at the idea of spending more nights alone.
"I don't want to. Not at all, I'm terrified. But it was out of my control, and it was either that or be permanently transferred to the Kyoto branch. I don't even know why- they just sprung it on me. So, I guess I'll be living in a sort of halfway point between Tokyo and there."

Geto tried to hear what he was saying. Wondering if it was possible to join him, but knowing a piece of paper that wrote his life away said otherwise. "Hey, don't worry about it Satoru. I understand."
He smoothed the sides of his hair, "You've become stronger and I'm happy for you. I'm proud of you."

Gojo bit back tears, "It won't be too much different from now. And I'll be back every weekend for sure."

Geto wasn't going to show a side of him that might hurt Satoru, he just was not going to do that. He glanced around the restaurant cautiously before taking his hand under the table. Something lit up in Gojo's eyes, "I," he started, but couldn't finish the remaining words.

"Come on. I'll get dessert." They walked to a crepe shop that was open till midnight and as usual, ordered two just for Gojo to eat a majority of one plus the whole other. It was alright, Geto's stomach hurt and he couldn't really eat anymore if he tried. As phenomenal as the dinner was.

"Are you tired yet?" Gojo asked him, still confused as to why his dark circles kept on darkening every time he saw him.

"No, why?"
Geto answered truthfully. It wasn't yet 11.

"Let's go to an arcade!" He wasn't enthused by the idea, but also seemed to be enthused by nothing lately and would never turn it down. Gojo took his hand, swinging it. Geto let go of the hold and could hear the glass break in Gojo's heart.

"We can't do that here, Satoru." There was a scared tone in his voice, but Gojo quickly agreed, feeling dumb for not having thought about such a thing as they were in public. They walked closer instead, occasionally brushing up against the other lovingly.

They had the place to themselves, playing street fighter and similar games, both matched in skills.

"Ah look!" Gojo pointed to a claw machine.

"You want me to win you one?" Geto asked and Gojo nodded.

He got it first try. A small white bunny with a green tie and cute "x" shaped mouth.
"Here, hold it, I'll get you one so we can share." Gojo handed the bean-filled-bottom bunny over and sat on the sparkly red seat.

He was not so skilled and at six failed attempts, Geto suggested he take over.

And again, won the prize in a singular turn. This one had a little pink tie and blush but was otherwise the same. They decided to swap, so Gojo could have the blushing one. Green, though less of a favorite than blue to Geto, was one of his favorite colors and he was content in the trade as well.

Gojo kept the promise of visiting on the weekends. At the start anyway. A group of employees practically upheaved him overnight, and in a blink, they went from close to miles apart.

They worked him to the bone, and texting soon became their only communication. Gojo felt like he was close to collapsing yet his body persevered every time. Geto slept with the soft plushie every night if he could sleep at all.

At the news from Gojo, and as he'd be graduating soon anyway, Geto decided to move out too. He took longer than one night to move but chose to stay in Tokyo, not that he had much of a choice at all as he was still contracted there. It felt like every day the ball and chain around his ankle grew heavier.

All he wanted was to see Satoru. To take him out, visit festivals together, and talk about their futures together. Because truly, he didn't see himself with anyone else. He wanted him dearly. He's half of his soul, as the poets say. They complement one another. All the good in him resided in Gojo too.

But that looming cloud kept growing darker and in the absence of light, it ate away at him. At first, he thought maybe the toll of consuming curses was catching up to him. That his body could no longer take it, but reoccurring nightmares stuck posters to his face of what it really was. He had been wrong to tell Gojo not to kill that group of brainwashed husks.

He went to the high school's library, finding what he could on past sorcerers. All of these altruistic souls who've put their lives on the line for centuries in order to protect the world. He got out a pen and paper, taking note of their ages upon death.
20, 16, 24, 27, 60, 33, 31, 21, 18, 18, 28, 24, 17, 14, 44, 34, 28, 19, 20, 37, 18, 35, 19.
Young. They all, but a lucky few, died so young. He jotted down as many numbers as he could before the book ran out and calculated the median death age. Twenty-seven.

How can this be right?
Geto crumpled the paper in frustration, tossing and missing the trash can, kicking it on the way out.