ex-husband

can you move on ?

Nanami wouldn't say he really enjoyed being around Gojo. 

But right now, he decided, that if he had to be around one state of Gojo, he would rather the annoying one rather than whatever mopey state his senpai was in right now. (It's been over a decade, and Nanami still can't believe that this white haired freak is his senpai). 

Happy go lucky, no care in the world Gojo was easy to ignore. Nanami would just ruffle his newspaper, preferring to read the same page over and over again, rather than listen to Gojo. If Gojo drew little penises on small pieces of paper to piss Nanami off on purpose, he could just throw the paper back at him or in the garbage. 

This Gojo made him feel bad though. 

This Gojo had his chin on the table, his lips pulled into a frown. This Gojo was quiet. 

And that was very eerie, to Nanami. 

Nanami didn't want to make the situation worse. He was now glad that Gojo had made a big deal of his wedding anniversary for the past two years, because Nanami knew exactly what day it was and why Gojo was mopey. 

So he knew not to ask. 

But for some reason, for once, Nanami could not keep his mouth shut. 

It was shocking to feel sympathy for Gojo. His body was fighting the words as they left his mouth.

"Why don't y-you get her flo... flowers?" Nanami really struggled. He stuttered as much as your toddler. 

When Gojo's eyes lit up as he sat up from his slouched position, Nanami regretted his words even more. What had he just encouraged this hyper manchild to do? 

"Nanamin! You genius!" 

"Don't call me that." 

Gojo practically giggled like a high school girl giving chocolates to her valentine. He had bought a fairly small bouquet - smaller than anything he'd gotten you when you were married - because he didn't want you to be freaked out or anything, by such a gesture. 

But it was beautiful, the flowers carefully arranged by the woman who owned a small flower shop business on a nice, quaint corner. Of course, she made this her best work yet, since Gojo provided such a hefty tip. 

His original plan consisted of leaving the flowers at your doorstep. 

He would walk away. You would look around when you noticed the flowers, wondering who had dropped them off. There's no note, no clue as to who sent the flowers. You're curious, but you pick it up, smiling fondly at the kind gesture. You realize who sent it. You fall back in love with him. Gojo can hold your hand again and kiss you and move in and marry you again and - 

Well, the plan was first ruined by Gojo not having the discipline to leave. 

But Gojo wouldn't say that. 

He would say that it was ruined when the second the door opened. From where he stood, he couldn't see your confused reaction to the flowers. But he saw a hand reach out for it. A hand. 

A hand that was not yours. (He knew your hands very well). 

They actually looked fairly manly. 

They looked like a man's hands. 

And those hands probably belonged to a man. 

A man who had a body. 

Whose body was in your house. 

A man's body was in your house? Right now? On this day? 

No way, right? Gojo shook his head. 

Absolutely no way. You can't have moved on, right?