The Strongest | ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

Chapter 40

We've been talking for hours. I don't even know how many. All I know is that my eyes are burning from tiredness, but I don't want to close them. I don't want Gojo to leave. We're both lying on our backs, my hand behind my head, and we're looking up at the ceiling. Sometimes, when we both turn our heads to look at each other, I'm startled that I can actually see his eyes; those glowing blue eyes that can see everything.

Telling the truth and saying whatever we're thinking was a good idea. A great one, actually. I don't think I've ever talked this much with someone. We're talking about everything and nothing at the same time, about serious things and funny things. We laugh, we fall silent, and we hold hands. We barely kiss - we don't have time for that between all the talking.

I can now confidently say that I know Gojo Satoru a little better. The one thing, the only thing, that's still missing is what I believe to be the biggest thing about him. I know that the way things are right now, if I asked, he'd tell me. He'd tell me, and it would break my heart. I can't make him look like that again. I can't stand seeing him so genuinely broken as he did during lunch on Monday.

But the truth is... I want to know. I've already decided that I want to know his whole entire truth, and this is it. In everything Gojo says and does, in everything he feels and believes, there's always a trace of what happened. It runs through every part of his life and of his being, and it makes him who he is. Can I ever really say that I truly know Gojo Satoru if I don't know this?

We've just been talking about our favorite times of the year, mine being spring, his being winter, when I turn my head to look at him. It must be the look on my face that makes him frown. How do I do this? How do I begin a conversation that will tear him apart?

"The truth, right?" I ask.

Gojo nods. "Whatever you're thinking."

"Even if you might not like it?"

He sits up, so I do the same. We're both leaning against the wall now, and I lean my head back against it so I can feel the coolness against my scalp.

He knows what I'm thinking. Which is why he says, "You want to know about my best friend."

I feel awful. He mentioned him once. A single time during dinner at the hotel, and that was enough for me to know that this is something important to him, something I swore myself never to ask about. The look on his face back then... I couldn't stand it. But the look on his face now? It's unbearable. I think he realizes that he should tell me. I believe he would have told me back then, too, if I hadn't told him not to. I didn't feel like I had a right to know. I was a stranger to him, and he was a stranger to me. All we were to each other was annoying. Now, we're something else. Something more.

"I do," I say carefully. "I want to know about what happened, but not if you don't want to talk about it. I would never, ever want you to -"

He stops me with a kiss. I'm so tense that not even his lips against mine help me loosen up. When Gojo leans back and opens his eyes again, they're sparkling with tears. My heart tightens, and there's a knot in my throat that threatens to suffocate me.

And then, on a cloudy Saturday night in the middle of summer, at almost three in the morning, Gojo Satoru spills his heart and his whole, entire truth. And he's smiling. When he tells me about Geto Suguru and about their time at school together, he's smiling despite the tears welling in his eyes. When he tells me about the best years of his life. When he tells me about the last spring they had together.

But when he tells me about Geto Suguru and about the end of that spring, he's crying. When he tells me about the villages that were burned down and the people that were killed, he's crying. When he tells me about the worst day of his life, when the man who was his one and only best friend walked away.

"And I could have stopped him," he says, tears running down his face, so happy for the release, the feeling of freedom on his cheeks. "I could have put an end to all of it right then. But I couldn't."

There is nothing for me to say. There are no words that can make this okay, no actions to take the pain away. All I can do is sit here, hold his hand, and feel the pain right with him. I can feel the hurt inside him, but I don't think I realize just how deep it goes, just how rooted inside of him it is. So I just sit and feel insignificant, like a tiny little thing next to this big ball of sadness and betrayal and grief.

Gojo holds onto my hand with both of his, and he's just staring straight ahead now, letting the tears dry on his face. He takes a deep breath, as if a ton of weight just fell off him. After a few moments of silence, I finally dare to move. I turn to him and lift my free hand to his face. He slowly looks at me, and he doesn't say anything when I wipe the tears off his cheeks with my thumb. I dry the tears that are dripping down his chin with the back of my hand, and he smiles again.

He catches my hand before I pull it away and holds it with my other hand inside of his two hands. They're warm and feel like safety and comfort and peace. "Thank you," he says. "For asking me."

It really doesn't feel like something he should need to thank me for. But I smile back at him, and I can feel the sadness leaving the room. Gojo slides down, so he's lying down again, and I smile at him for just a moment, then do the same.

Gojo has his one hand on his chest, and I watch it moving up and down with every breath he takes. After a while, I roll to the side and put my arm under my head so I'm a little elevated. My other hand meets his on his chest, and our fingers intertwine. I'm so incredibly happy, and it feels like everything outside of this room doesn't exist. It's just us, and for the first time ever, the thought doesn't terrify me.

"This is strange, isn't it?" I say in a low voice.

The beautiful man looks at me and smiles a big smile. "It is strange," he agrees. "But so nice, too."

I can't hold back a smile as I nod. "So nice."

My head replays everything that happened in the past hours. What time is it, anyway? Three? Four? How long will we still be awake? Will Gojo go back to his room? He should, right? That's the smart thing to do. Right?

The questions answer themselves when we both fall asleep after talking for a few more hours, still holding hands. I only know this because I wake up sometime later, when the sun is already rising slowly but surely, and I find Gojo still next to me, his eyes closed, his white lashes resting on his flushed cheeks. He's absolutely beautiful in the morning light.

I smile, slide closer to him, and close my eyes again. I don't want the next day to start yet. I want to stay here with him for just a little longer and pretend that there's no one chasing us, no students to teach, and no coworkers to annoy. I want it to be just the two of us for a little longer.