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

Chapter 89

~Yn~

Glaring, onto the dim screen below past the smudged fingerprints that cloud the numbers beneath; from your constant tapping and trying to ignore the irritated red circles that continue to mock your absent mind. Day-by-day your strength returns, but not by a long shot are you able to write manually for hours on end. Tapping onto the screen too clears the grid again as the patterns begin to reveal themselves amongst the scattered numbers.

The days may be getting easier, but these menial tasks exhaust your creative abilities to a diminished child-like state.

It feels like you've been to war with how deprived you feel of your autonomy to move freely without feeling faint, and the independence to even relieve yourself without assistance has been stripped from you. Feeling vulnerable in front of Gojo isn't a new revelation, however, performing a task that is rather intimate and something that goes beyond washing yourself was both anxiety inducing and embarrassing.

Gojo didn't say a word or bat an eye whilst he helped you up, bathed you and got you changed, only for him to section you in the bedroom and make you call for him whenever you needed. You figure that if he had his way, he would be here lying beside you and helping you with your brain teasers. However, the doctor wants you to be independent wherever you can be, and something like this can't be rushed or cheated.

Surviving major brain surgery is one hurdle but coming back from death is completing a marathon you never signed up for. It's confusing, draining and most of all surreal to think that for a couple of moments you were suspended in darkness and woke up within a blink of an eye. As if the cord was pulled out and your last moments became lost to fantasy and reality. They are as fuzzy as the pillows cushioning your body and as light as the duvet straddling around your waist.

A faint thud at the door is all that alerts you of Gojo's impending presence at the door, with him, he carries a silver tray. Flamboyant, rich, and eccentric are becoming a list of traits you're beginning to scratch off your bingo card. Gojo rounds the bed and removes your tablet and places down his Victorian silver lap tray in its stead.

His welcoming and boyish smile charms you just as much as it reminds you of the flashing memory of the little boy in your dream. However, whilst charmed the horrifying memory of having him in front of you, steadying your balance whilst you wiped makes you want to shrivel up and die. The captivating smell and delightful course before you, however, makes it difficult to look away.

"Your lunch, madam. I hope the tasks today haven't been too strenuous." He formally greets you with his poshest accent.

The spread before you turns out to be a mackerel pate board with carrot and cucumber sticks and crackers with a large glass of ginger, honey, and turmeric tea. The sight alone inspires a type of hunger in you that you've never experienced before.

"If you're referring to my sudoku, then no." You lie.

Smiling coyly towards Gojo's suspicious look, as he likely saw your embarrassingly long-time stamp on your current game before the screen clicked off. He hums and crouches besides you, nicking a carrot stick or two as he assesses your strength. Over the last day, your strength has been getting better it was just this morning unfortunately that drew you into this bed, being too wobbly and feeling too faint activated Gojo's paternal instinct. Hopefully, by tonight or the next morning, you'll make a few rounds around the house before going out.

Getting some fresh air and sunlight on you is one of the best remedies out there, and if it means compromising with Gojo and having him chaperone you, then so be it.

"Oi, stop stealing my food." Batting his thieving fingers away and using your other hand to spread the pate onto one of the crackers.

Gojo chuckles, kneeling against the bed frame on your side.