break my heart again // gojo satoru x reader

Untitled Part 5

It was the twenty-fifth hour when Gojo was waken up.

He felt the tiny fist balling up his shirt, the small knuckles nudging his chest. He looked down to see a little boy- his little boy curled up against his chest, looking up at him with widened eyes, tugging on his shirt and whispering, "I'm hungry."

Gojo very carefully placed his son on the floor next to the bed, head flicking over to observe your sleeping body ever so often to make sure that he was not making any noise to wake you up. Once he tugged the blankets up to fully cover you, standing up behind his son, he was suddenly tugged by the boy towards the kitchen.

"What do you want?" he asked, still groggy and sleep-deprived, but trying his damned hardest to sound sweet and happy for his son.

"Okonomiyaki!"

"Well, I'll try!"

He opened the fridge- the cool air snapping him awake instantly, and scrummaged through all the ingredients. The house was always stocked full of things- food, clothes, money... his salary as a sorcerer paid well, and he loved providing for you and your son. He always went shopping with him when you were off at work, never chastising his son even if he was going off the shopping list, buying as many snacks and toys as he wanted. He never wanted to lose you or your son like he did so many years ago.

As he got to chopping the ingredients, he peered over to his son, his eyes still gazing at him longingly as he watched his father slice into the cabbage so delicately, so meticulously. How he managed to get every slice of pork belly sliced to the same thickness, same length, same size.

When he finally had everything ready, he used his Infinity to teleport his son to the other side of the room, afraid that the oil would splash high enough to hurt him. The elders and other shamans would definitely not be happy by the way he was using his powers.

But it was all worth it when he saw the way his son's mouth curled as he bit into the savoury pancake. But his eyes were starting to droop, and he sunk into the table under him.

———

He was waken up from his reverie by Nanami's voice. It was grovelling and low, as usual, but he could sense there was some sort of adoration and amusement in it.

What Nanami was talking about shouldn't have shocked or disappointed him. But it did.

"Y/N has a kid now. A cute one, in fact."

He couldn't even hide the surprise that was blatantly splashed across his features as he brought his head back up from the table, peering over Nanami's shoulders to look at the photos he was showing to Utahime.

They showed you holding a boy's hand, back turned towards the camera- Nanami had very obviously taken the pictures secretly, knowing how bad the breakup had been between the two of you.

The boy looked like a tinier version of you, just with nicer, slicked-back hair- at least, that was the impression he got by the backs of the two of you.

He hollowed his cheeks in regret, gulping. He couldn't help but imagine that if he hadn't slipped up, if he hadn't made that awful mistake he did those years ago, he'd been on the other side of the boy, the two of you flanking him, taking him by the hands, and swinging him along the sidewalk.

He almost had the nerve to snatch the phone from Nanami's grasp, to break it, in anger, in regret.. in any of the overwhelming emotions that were welling up inside of him.

But he merely gripped the water bottle he was chugging tighter, placing it back onto the table gently.

You'd moved on. He'd moved on.

There was no use regretting about the past. There was no use imagining what could have been. There was no use feeling bad.

—

Gojo wouldn't admit it, but he was tired.

After exorcising seven curses in this primary school, he couldn't help but slump on the school steps, leaning his head back onto the raggedy concrete, arms draped out on either side of him as he basked in the hot sunlight.

"Gojo-san!"

A child's voice, crisp and cool, yet piercing and annoying, earning it a scowl from Gojo- yet it reminded him of himself, but younger. Rolling his head in a small circle, his eyes rolling with the motion, he huffed a sigh of exasperation, turning to look at the source of the sound.

He would recognise those piercing, cerulean eyes anywhere. He'd stared into them in the mirror for at least ten minutes every morning, obviously, so he would be able to draw them even in his sleep. It was uncanny how they resembled his own eyes so well.

But other than that, nothing else about the boy resembled him. Everything else about the boy resembled you. The jawline, the shoulders, the legs, the mouth, even the ears reminded him of you.

He instantly knew it was his child.

All the regret and disappointment he felt when he'd just heard of the kid amplified, his mind flooding with scenarios and thoughts of what-ifs.

He missed the first words of his child. He missed his first steps, his first days at school, his first... everything.

But what hurt more was that he didn't know. He wasn't sure if he was madder at you for not telling him, or him for not actively seeking you out. At least he could've helped- financially, emotionally, anything, but he was left completely in the dark.

"Hi, little one!" he started, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. He hadn't had a great rapport with children- but he wanted to create a somewhat good impression in his own child, at least. "How do you know me?"

"My parents tell me everything about you! Even how you're the strongest sorcerer." The last word was spoken as a whisper, like a naughty secret the pair shared, like it was somehow a forbidden treasure.

"Yeah? And what do they say about me?" He could lie and say that he asked this just because he wanted to inflate his ego further, but he truly wanted to know what you thought of him even after everything he'd put you through.

"Well, in front of me, they say how you're so amazing, and how you exorcise curses like- like a superhero!" The boy was putting on such a show, punching his hand up in the air to accentuate that last word. "But... but behind my back, they sometimes say you're "a lying, cheating scumbag." I only know what "lying" means, and I know that's something bad, but... I believe in you!"

He knew the boy was just trying to reassure him, just trying to show him that he supported Gojo no matter what, but it didn't stop the pang of pain that stabbed through his chest. Apparently, you hadn't forgiven him, and even your current partner knew about it. But he didn't expect you to forgive him, of course. What he did was unacceptable.

"Ah, sorry sir that I'm a few minutes late, I got caught up with work- I hope he hasn't been a nuisance!"

Your voice brings him back to reality in an instant, yet he's still gathering the many thoughts still swirling in his head, still plaguing his steps.

But when he finally turns around to see you ruffling the boy's hair, asking him about how his day has been, all the thoughts flew out the window, and all he could think of was you. All he could think of was how you were absolutely beaming at your son, showing him a smile that Gojo hadn't seen in years.

As you stood back up to look at him, he saw the unsure and melancholy look on your face. He saw every single one of the memories between the two of you flash between the two of your eyes. He saw the small tick in your lips as you finally turned away, gently pushing the kid forward.

And you didn't see the tears streaming down his face. You didn't see him run to the nearest wall, cupping his mouth to stifle the wails he threatened to make, the other hand slamming into the wall in anger.

Because you would only talk to him in the sixty-first second. You would only smile at him in the thirteenth month.

You would only love him again at the twenty-fifth hour.