Bound In Love's Curse [Gojo Satoru x Female Readers]

117 ~ Hundred And Seventeen

[A] strange, unsettling silence settled over the room as you leaned forward to grab the box of treats, only for Nanami's hand to gently stop you.

You didn't even have to ask. You knew what was coming.

"It's nearly lunchtime," Nanami stated firmly, unyielding, as always. "Eat something proper first."

Your lips pursed into a thin line, surrendering almost immediately to the suggestion. "Don't wanna," you muttered, disinterested.

It wasn't that you were trying to be difficult—honestly, you barely had an appetite these days. So, why were they so persistent? Why couldn't they leave you be?

Nanami, of course, didn't flinch. "I think you'll like what's on the menu today."

His patience was endless, and somehow that made it worse. It felt like being treated like a kid, but not in the playful way Gojo did it—more like Nanami's quiet, relentless concern. The kind you couldn't ignore.

Still, his words sparked something mild in your thoughts. For days, they'd been trying to get you to eat something—anything—and so far, only Toge's egg drop soup had worked. But even that had gotten old. You tilted your head, half expecting the same routine.

"Oh? What's for lunch?" Your tone wasn't exactly curious, but there was a subtle hint of amusement in the way you asked, like you were playing along.

You weren't actually interested in food—more in the game they were playing. What tactic were they using this time to drag you into it?

"Ramen," he responded without a flicker of hesitation. "Tonkotsu Ramen."

"Ramen?" You repeated, your brow lifting slightly. Well, well, now they had your full attention.

You knew that smile was coming—he wasn't about to give anything away, but the air shifted.

Gojo was smug, no doubt. You could almost feel the smirk tugging at his lips from wherever he was. He knew you better than you cared to admit, and despite everything, he never missed a beat.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"About the ramen," you clarified, eyes narrowing slightly. Your tone was still flat, but there was the faintest edge of intrigue now.

Nanami sighed, a faint hint of frustration crossing his otherwise composed face. Talking to you now felt like navigating a minefield. You were unpredictable, your responses veering between detached and cryptic. They never quite knew how to approach this version of you—calm on the surface, but unreadable underneath.

"You picked Ichiran Ramen as your go-to when we were in Tokyo," He stated, matter-of-factly. "Besides...Gojo mentioned it."

Of course he did. You had been right all along—Gojo was behind this.

"Hmm, I see." Your tone was dismissive, as if the mention of his name had sucked the air out of the room.

Nanami caught the subtle shift in your expression—deflated, indifferent, and almost too casual. It was strange, really. You weren't like this before.

"Aren't you going to ask?" he pressed, though carefully.

He was hesitating, not quite sure how much he could push. But there was a need to know. Where were you mentally? How far could they go in understanding you right now?

"Ask what?" Your eyes stayed fixed on the teacup, barely even meeting his gaze.

"About him. Gojo Satoru," Nanami clarified, his tone patient. But the minute he said it, you felt the familiar ripple in the air.

Gojo flinched—like he had been caught, like the mention of his own name carried more weight than usual.

You smirked internally. Yeah, you could sense him.

The way your awareness of cursed energy had evolved lately was... impressive.

It wasn't just about sensing energy anymore; it was deeper than that. It was as if you could feel the vibrations, subtle changes in the flow around you. You could read it. Decode it. Instinctively.

It was almost like being blind, navigating the world through heightened senses alone. A new form of clarity. Pretty cool, huh?

"Nah." You waved off Nanami's question dismissively, like it was nothing.

But it wasn't that you didn't care. In fact, you did—more than you ever wanted to admit. Somewhere along the way, amid all the chaos and confusion, you had figured it out. Why you had been so insecure, why you had always kept everyone at arm's length. It all came down to one simple truth:

You liked him. No, scratch that—you were in love with Gojo Satoru.

And the fact that you weren't in denial anymore? That made it all easier. It was clearer now, your feelings, your situation. You could think straight, approach everything more rationally. A solution that worked for you. A healthier option.

So, why didn't you ask about him? Why not pry?

Because you didn't need to. You already knew everything you needed to know. Gojo had laid himself bare to you, stripped himself emotionally when he infused his cursed energy into you. You understood him better than he probably understood himself right now.

There was no need to ask. Heck, Gojo wouldn't even know how to explain himself. Words weren't his strong suit when it came to vulnerability. The strongest sorcerer in the world, but weak at opening up. And it wasn't just about the expectations placed on him—being the strongest, never showing flaws. It went deeper than that.

He didn't believe he had any flaws. And that was exactly the problem.

Another flinch. It was subtle but there. Like Gojo was getting stabbed in the gut, the heart, and the soul simultaneously.

You could feel it—hell, you practically reveled in it. The corners of your lips twitched, barely suppressing the smirk threatening to surface. 

But you didn't let it show. Not entirely.

"Actually," you murmured, voice smooth but laced with a deliberate edge, "I've been curious about something... or rather, someone else."

Nanami stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing as he tried to anticipate your next words. He probably thought you were going to ask about Yuki or maybe even Utahime. He'd probably hedge his bets on one of those two. "Who?"

Your answer, though, clearly caught him off guard. "Suguru Geto. I'm curious about him."

The room went heavy.

Alright, you had an idea of how that sounded. Like you were deliberately pressing on a bruise that hadn't healed. Like you were purposefully twisting the knife, knowing damn well that Gojo was within earshot.

You could feel him. His cursed energy, his presence, the way he was taking slow, controlled breaths like he was barely holding himself together.

But honestly? You weren't doing this to be petty. You truly were curious about Geto Suguru—the one Gojo compared you to, the ghost that lingered in his thoughts.

Nanami's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. You knew why—this wasn't his story to tell. It was a wound that wasn't his to open. "If you want information, Gojo's the one you should be asking."

"Mmm," you shook your head lightly before he could even finish. Nanami paused, waiting for you to elaborate.

"My question's not for him," you murmured, gaze shifting toward the door. Your voice softened, but the weight of your words lingered. "I was asking... her."

Nanami's expression tightened, his curiosity piqued, but also clouded by confusion. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head, trying to piece together what you meant—until Shoko stepped through the doorway.

"How are you doing this?" He frowned, the question slipping out almost involuntarily.

He wasn't one for superstitions, but you always seemed to know things. Like you had an unseen connection, an eerie sense of awareness that went beyond cursed energy.

"Did I miss something?" Shoko asked, stepping in with her usual dry tone, a hand balancing takeout bags, the other still resting on the doorknob. But even her gaze flickered to the side, her eyes briefly scanning the space just outside the door. A subtle move. One you didn't miss.

And there it was—confirmation. You weren't crazy. He really was there, lurking just outside. Gojo, trying to keep his presence hidden and failing miserably. At least, you weren't imagining things. Not entirely.

Nanami, perhaps sensing the tension, quickly seized the moment to divert the conversation. "Y/N's got questions," he said, voice calm and controlled. "About Geto Suguru."

Shoko's eyes flicked toward you, a flash of something unreadable crossing her features before she slid effortlessly back into her usual indifferent mask. "Ah," she sighed, her voice carrying that familiar dry tone, as if she'd known this conversation was inevitable.

She paused at the doorway, her eyes drifting upwards in a fleeting moment of thought. It was brief, but you caught it—the glance she sent toward the spot where Gojo was lingering. You could almost feel him give a subtle nod, like a silent permission for her to speak.

"I'm not sure Satoru would be thrilled about this," she averred, trying to sound casual. She wasn't aware that you'd already pieced everything together. You, staring out the window again, made no indication you had noticed any of it. "But... it shouldn't be a problem. What exactly do you want to know?"

Her words were light, almost careless, but there was an underlying tension that didn't escape you.

She moved closer, her steps unhurried but deliberate. Nanami, sitting nearby, leaned forward to take the empty tea cup from your hands—his movements deliberate, measured.

He wasn't just clearing space for you; he was watching, studying. They both were.

You could sense it.

It was subtle, but unmistakable. They were treating you like glass—fragile, about to shatter at any moment.