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

Chapter 88

~Yn~

The pounding in your head wanes away as the presence of another's breath tickles the back of your neck. A tug at the waist secures you against a soft but hard wall that is rising and falling with your rhythm. The lumbering echoes of the past dredging their claws in the back of your mind leaves you feeling a fresh, stark reminder that death was near. Held you close and sucked everything out.

It hurts to breathe.

Your flesh has become gritty and chalky. Your skin, waxy and thin that it peels away like a scab. Your voice is an echo lost in time. All that you are, were, is a shroud clinging to memories that are not your own. Trapped. Sealed. Forgotten. Alive. Free.

Taking in your first real breath.

The strain of cracking your eyes open spills a waterfall of tears that blur your vision and tickle your face. The room is clear, the monitor in front of you beeps calmly and consistently now as full wakefulness stirs. The brown leather sofa that is pushed up against far the wall and sits opposite to you, has impressions of someone having sat there for a long time. The creases, folds, and dips paint a picture of Gojo sitting there, waiting patiently and anxiously for your return.

You laugh at the hallucination of him there now.

From behind, your keeper stirs, but not to full wakefulness as he clings to the little sleep fluttering through his tightening grip and quivering breath. You are here and no longer there. An awful place that would strip away any boy who is placed on a pedestal and hunted and worshipped and spoilt without any care for his humanity. His relationships. His soul.

It takes great effort and a scorching ache pounding in your skull to turn over to face him. Home. Who's eyes are red and puffy, white fluffy hair a fray and crazy, and whose grip burns into your skin like a tether of gold starlight binding you both together. Bright blue wide eyes watch you in a state of hunger and awe before they too unleash a waterfall of tears. His eyes scrunch closed and an intense longing to squeeze him like a sponge urges your fingers to thread through his hair, scratch his scalp and soothe him into your breast.

Against your beating heart.

"I'm here, I'm here." You croak, the dry words chafing up your throat.

His cries soften and his body soon relaxes. Gojo looks up, and you can't help but swipe away the shards breaking down his face and white wisps blocking his sight.

Gojo opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. The words he wished to say did not come, failing on the tip of his tongue. A small smile springs up, capturing his wide wet eyes as you now recognise his boyish features still lurk behind his goofy exterior. There is no mask to hide them now, and they are far too raw to resemble the boy in your dream but hold the same sense of longing he had for that girl.

Someone who sees him.

When no more words come, you take a deep breath and only notice then of the shuddering ache in your head follows down into your ribs and sternum. They feel as though they have been punched or pounded by a great force. No wonder you find it difficult to breathe with the added dryness in your mouth and the sores in your chest.

"Why so sad? I thought we were going to get Kikufuku." You add, trying to poke the unexpected sadness out of him.

It's strange to see him like this that the only other time that you can remember when he cried was when you and he got together. However, the sadness from before was from happiness, whereas here they feel more from relief and exhaustion.

His eyes aren't just puffy because he's cried a swimming pool's worth, but because the tiredness still lingers like crescent moons sinking under his eyes.

Gojo's frown eclipses into a weak smile.

"I heard you. You were there." He whispers, his voice deep and dry.

His words spark the memory alight, and you can see his him as a boy being beaten by his father, his family, and his servants. Outcasted and alienated by everyone who should protect and care for him, all because of his inherited abilities.

You weren't just there but pulled into every fibre of his being and saw aspects about him that couldn't be possible without the so-called gifts Shoko and Gojo mentioned to you before. The tether still lingers like a frayed thread hanging on for dear life when foggy clips clear revealing to you what had just occurred.

Taking a deep breath in, your shuddering heart quakes angrily to expel the trapped wind as your body goes through the mechanisms of remembering numerous hands pounding and prodding into your body. Gojo seems to recognise the swift change and pulls himself up and cradles the side of your face, and suddenly everything goes still.

The surging thoughts, your quickening breath and the nauseous events that took place after your surgery until now. Clear like the skies after a rainy day, and your mind and body relax under the buzz of his fingers. The push and pull returning like a cloud pillowing under your head.

For a while you just sink into the cushioning, feeling unaware of Gojo and his many questions. Many of whom from yourself.

"I see you." You whisper, wincing as you turn to face him and stroking his cheek.

Finally, understanding the meaning behind those words and why so few are just as powerful as a whole romantic spiel about undying love. He is not to blame for his upbringing and for who he is when everyone else has failed him, to see him for who he is and not for what society deems him as.

There are so many things to be said, yet now as you gaze up into his beautiful blue eyes, you find that silence is the only gift of peace.

~*~

Me trying to round out and finish this thing whilst simultaneously trying to patch up plot holes 😅

Just take it as not everything needs to be recounted and detailed - simple is key