Toji x Gojo

The Long Road To Nowhere

By : elthedane, nocturnvl
Source : AO3

There was something to be said for complete and total darkness. The vacuum. The abyss. The absence of light and life. There was a peace to the absolute void, devoid of the mystery that arose upon the introduction of a single thread of light, sewing shadows in dark corners.

That thread of light - of life - opened a door. A door that let in unwanted things, made them a home beyond its unravelling edges. These things lurked in hallways illuminated by exit signs, crimson light bleeding over shadowy corners. Or in abandoned streets where mist swirled beneath a single flickering streetlight - swirling as if recoiling from the movement of a passing ghost.

Silence was much of the same. The tranquility of nothingness was so easily shattered by the sound of footsteps or a slowly passing car, corrupting, becoming something that sowed the seeds of fear deep within one's soul. The fear of blood on streets and bodies in dumpsters.

Darkness and silence were two things Satoru was well acquainted with. They were old friends, walking together every night as he sat in his taxicab. Waiting.

It was an unfortunate string of events that led Satoru to taking a job as a cab driver. Being disowned by the Gojo family had effectively ruined his life, stealing away his prospects and livelyhood. Satoru wasn't cut out to be poor. He had expensive tastes, bad work habits, and an aversion to authority that didn't lend well to most jobs. As with all the low-level jobs he'd tried in the past few years, he had a feeling this one wouldn't last.

It was a slow night. The bar rush had just concluded and the early risers had yet to rouse. So Satoru spent it as he often did, eating doughnuts and reading comic books as he waited for a call.

Satoru was halfway through a sprinkle doughnut when the passenger door was thrown open, a hulking figure dropping into the seat next to him. His clothes glistened wetly, the stains appearing black in the low light. It took Satoru a moment to realize it was blood .

Satoru's protest died in his throat as a gun rose to his temple, skin on bloodstained barrel.

"Drive , " a low voice ordered.

Ice-cold fear seared through Satoru's veins as the man pulled the hammer back.

"You deaf? I said: Drive. "

"Fuck. Sure. Okay. Fuck." Satoru fumbled with his keys. It was too dark to see what the man looked like, but the distant streetlights were reflected in his eyes. Eyes like knives against his skin, the cool kiss of metal promising nightmares becoming reality if he looked at them too long.

The headlights illuminated the alleyway, their beams reflecting on the dirty puddles lining the potholed road.

Satoru pulled onto the main street, forcing his attention on something - anything - other than the gun pointed at his head.

"Where to?" Satoru asked, his voice hollow. Robotic.

"Just keep driving 'til I tell you to stop."

"That'll cost you."

There was a hoarse scoff, the bastardization of a laugh. Satoru got the feeling the only payment this man would offer was Satoru's life.

The dim city lights raced by the windows, extending trails of neon through the fogged-up windshield, marred by residual raindrops. Speckled light shifted over the dashboard, sickly beams stretching and retreating increasingly slowly as the streetlights became farther apart. In brief spurts, Satoru caught a glimpse of the stranger in his cab. His hair was dark and lanky, falling over those unsettling eyes. His lips were chapped and cracking and one side was stretched by an angry red scar, raised and puckered.