𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐌𝐀𝐍

GOJO SATORU WAS HOLLOW. He was empty, mind and body separated and floating somewhere else. The sorcerer didn't know if it was the alcohol, or maybe the throbbing headache from the flashing lights, or maybe the way Mikazuki's ass curved as she sat by his side, the edges of her figure highlighted by the neon of the club.

Or maybe it was the way he could feel himself shrinking away, everything in him rotting away exactly like Mikazuki had said.

She was stunning, and had it been any other night, he might have stopped to take a good look to truly appreciate the view. But not now, not tonight, when he could feel himself withering away, part of him dying under his skin. Gojo didn't let it set in, he didn't let it take root and continue to poison him. Instead, he licked his lips, feeling the dry flaking skin underneath, before finally speaking.

"I am nothing like you." He called, his tone harsh and jarring like the hateful words he'd spewed only hours earlier.

It made him feel ugly and dirty, like the deepest parts of him were shrivelling away, dying and turning to ashes in his mouth along with the arrogance and hypocrisy. He was spiralling, tumbling down a dark and familiar road he'd already threaded through plenty of times.

He was losing sight of himself, pieces of him slowly being chipped away with every cruel word that left his mouth. Because Kinzoku Mikazuki was right, but that was just another terrible truth spilled from her lips that he wasn't ready to face. Instead, he fired back, protecting himself in the only way he knew how, which was by blaming her.

"I'm not a mass murderer." Satoru added, the word leaving his mouth like a bullet.

And there it was again. That line. The line that would forever separate them, the line that had been drawn by The Magistrate so she would firmly stay on her side, and he would never tread out of his. This was the line that had broken everything, ruined everything. From the day she climbed up those concrete steps, entering the abandoned light factory, From the day she was sent into an open execution, never expecting to walk out. From the day she became a murderer.

This was the line. Their line. There was chaos outside of it, at either side of it. But never in it.

"Neither was I, until they made me into one."

There was a certain sharpness to the words, a certain tone that made Satoru's ears ring while Mikazuki let herself get lost in the sound of it, the cruel truth she'd been holding onto for the past decade. She said the words kindly, the softness of her tone almost comforting. But there was also hatred, resentment and another host of words she could not even think of.

For the longest time, this has been the truth. What Satoru didn't know, was that these simple words would one day be his truth. The line was made to be broken, and sooner or later, Gojo Satoru would have to step through it. He couldn't see it now, couldn't even begin to imagine the scope of the things that were to come. But it was all there, hidden behind a handful of meaningless words and pretty sunset-coloured eyes.

For now, though, Satoru didn't waver, he didn't let it get to him. He continued to fight it, with his whole body and soul, willing himself to believe his own words.

"You're a bold-faced liar." He grit through his teeth, their petty argument suddenly surging like a tidal wave.

Mikazuki looked at him, eyes open so wide Satoru could see himself in the reflection. He could discern every single detail, every imperfection on his smooth skin, the small ridge of the glasses over his nose, but most of all, he could see himself. Something about the sight made him pause, his own reflection hitting hard, an onslaught of indecipherable emotions tumbling inside of him like an awakening storm.