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Of course, if life was that simple, there would be no need for you to be screaming internally three days later.
In the hours after Haruto had left for school and Nanami had been dispatched for work, here you are, traveling to the city center for some café.
Why were you going there?
Well, because Gojo told you to.
Meeting up with your ex alone for the third (or was it fourth?) time is an awful idea. That much you know.
Nonetheless, when you saw Gojo Satoru's urgent text request to see you this morning, curiosity but moreso fury was what prompted you to agree.
Out grabbing groceries, you had messaged Nanami, knowing he would freak out and start flipping Japan upside down if he returned home to an empty apartment.
Conveniently for Gojo, the prearranged café meetup spot is not too far from his teaching halls at Kyoto Jujutsu High, which makes you wonder...shouldn't he be at work to begin with?
As expected for the noontime, the café is crowded upon your arrival, packed with lunch-hunting students, friend groups, and office workers.
Despite the sea of people, Gojo is easy to spot in the corner, his characteristic white locks and tall form making him easy to identify.
Today, he's ditched his sensei getup for a dark sweater, white Converses, and ripped skinny jeans.
The fit is an entire compilation that literally screams trouble, especially when he's got his iconic sunglasses to top things all off. Even if you should have run away then, here you were, pulled in like a sucker anyway.
Gojo, seated facing away from you, shifts slightly as you draw near, an indication that he senses your presence. As expected for the strongest jujutsu sorcerer.
Without turning around, the man raises a hand to greet you.
"Hey, how are you?"
Translation: I called you multiple times this week, but you didn't pick up so I wanted to check up on you. On you and your pussy, that is.
Remembering how you'd probably be pleasing him in the back alley by now during your twenty-year-old days, you cringe. As if you would fall for that trap again.
Silent, you take the seat across from him, folding your arms over your chest in the process.
Unlike your others encounters with him, you are no longer filled with yearning and heartache. Emotions in check, you are sure you won't break down in front of him again either.
Realizing there is no obligation to respond to his attempt at small talk, you respond with a question of your own.
"What is it?" you ask, or rather, seethe. Quite clearly, you are both irritated and impatient, much preferring to spend as little time as possible with your ex-boyfriend.
Meanwhile, Gojo stops stirring the coffee he'd ordered. "Woah there, princess." He looks offended. "That's no way to talk to someone who helped Nanami Kento find you that other night."
You think he's done but he adds, "I even texted him to ask if you were okay. You know, because I'm nice, I care. But he just left me on delivered."
You scoff.
Was he searching for some sort of sympathy?
Ever since this walking...walking disaster zone approached you that fateful night at work, he's been nothing but an instigator and troublemaker.
"That still doesn't make up for all your other shit. Five years of it."
Just to prove your point, you thrust a hand with all fingers stretched out at him.
Five years.
Gojo accedes reluctantly. "Listen, I'm returning to Tokyo on Friday."
Translation again: Free to come over anytime later this week? You know, to freak in the sheets?
When you don't immediately respond, he continues by explaining, "I finished my lessons as a visiting teacher at Kyoto Jujutsu High yesterday."
"Wonderful news." It's hard to hide the sudden relief in your tone. "This city is much better off without you."
Gojo raises a brow at your spunk.
Sure, even back in the days he had dated you, he was well aware of your hot temper, how you are a person who fights fire with fire.
Still, he had expected a more dramatic response.
Nothing about you upset or crying on your knees, but perhaps some pouts and whines that there'd be some time before you or your son could see him again.
Leaning over the table, Gojo gently places one hand over yours.
"I know you'll miss me, princess."
His other elbow is propped on the table, and he rests his cheek against that palm, gazing at you with such a loving look that ironically (or not) leaves you disgusted.
"You're really pretty," he crows.
In the ensuing silence, his fingers start to rub slowly at your knuckles.
"Why are you so quiet, hm? Are you still mad at me, even though I've made things up to you? Or are you shy? Don't worry. I'll still think about you too, Barbie."
As he ponders on your casted-away stripper name, he smiles slyly.
"Are you my Barbie girl in a Barbie world?" he asks, a stupid reference to that 1990s Aqua song.
He then pauses for dramatic effect before quoting the lyrics again. "Can I brush your hair and undress you everywhere?"
At that, you yank your hand forcefully away from Gojo's.
"I am not your plaything." The glare in your eyes deepens. "Not your baby, not your princess, not your pet. And most definitely not your doll."
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Happy early New Years' Eve and New Year!
Thank you for the wonderful year, and I hope your next year will be better than the last. HUGS!
