Under the Overpass ~ SatoSugu

Chapter 15

The tone of his voice quickly shifted, "What the hell are you doing here?" Gojo asked.

Geto looked at the state he was in. Stained with blood, soaking wet, and shivering, he didn't really look like the strongest of all sorcerers.

Before that evening, everything had been at least somewhat normal. Somewhat happy even. But time is the biggest thief of them all and they were no exception. 

"Can I get into my own damn house?" He asked, pushing a hand against Geto's chest.

Gojo locked eyes with two girls wearing a couple of his older graphic tees as dresses. They stiffened like boards seeing him. Geto stepped in between, reassuring that everything was fine and they had no reason to be scared. His voice sounded like the one that Gojo knew never would have believed his current self had mass slaughtered a group of people.

"What are you doing, Suguru?" Gojo sounded annoyed in confusion, wanting to toss him out of his apartment and never look back, and at the same time, all he wanted was a hug.

"I had no other place to take them." He saw their worried expressions, "Can we go in the other room? You're scaring them."

"I'm scaring them?! What about you? You're just going to kill your only family and families of hundreds of others and then waltz in here like it's your typical Tuesday? Get out!"

"They'll kill me."

"I know. Your photo is already up on the walls."

Even now, after everything, Geto being dead sounded worse than this nightmare to Gojo. "You're vile. I hate you-" he corrected himself, "I hate that you did that. How could you?"

"I hate myself too."

Gojo was stunned. "This isn't you. I don't understand what's happening. Why didn't you talk to me?"

"You didn't hear me when I tried."

Gojo glanced back at the two girls who hadn't moved a muscle. He didn't like the fact they were scared by him. Annoyed, he clicked his tongue and grabbed Geto's wrist, yanking him into his bedroom/ office space. He slammed the door behind them.

"Fucking hell." Geto stared at the adorned walls and gilded furniture.

"What? I'm the head leader of a clan, it comes with its perks." This time it wasn't said in a besting comeback way. There were no more rapid responses, smart-aleck remarks, or quick-witted flirts. It was disappointing to have lost that.

Gojo half ripped half removed his shirt, as it was ruined anyway, and wiped the cold water off his forehead and the blood that still trickled lightly from his nose. He looked back up to see Geto holding a towel which he snatched and wrapped himself in.

He dug around for a top, hoodie, shirt, anything and grew more and more frustrated. He opened and closed cabinets, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to stop the last of the bleeding. Geto found one and extended another arm.

"Quit helping me! I don't need your help." He pulled it over his head, resecuring his shaded glasses with shaking hands. Gojo stared down at the wooden paneling, "We're the strongest," he nearly whispered after a minute of quiet.

"No," Geto looked up at the ceiling, "You're the strongest."

Gojo's lips found Geto's before his mind could retaliate. To Geto, they were cold and tense, but the same ones he'd grown to know very well.

Their bodies knew the other so easily. They opened the kiss and begged for it to go deeper.

Geto cupped his cheek, but knew that if they went much further he wouldn't be able to stop from a want for more, and so he brought the hand to cover the bottom of Gojo's face.