━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 | ❝ oh, itadori. gojo-sensei's gonna kill you if he finds out you like his sister. ❞
▬▬▬▬ 𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵: yuuji itadori falls for his pretty white-haired classmate at his school on sendai, not knowing she's a gojo. ;)
❝ i do...
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—december 24, 2019
gojo satoru now hated the snow.
he hated the snow because it was harsh and prickly on his skin—how the ice would poke his warm defenses and made him shiver—he loathed it.
but mostly, he despised it because it just reminds him of the pale color and dull feeling that leaves him whenever it's that time of the year.
december 24th.
while everyone was too busy recovering from what happened last year—december 24th of 2018—paying respect for their loved ones that were dragged to that shinjuku incident by celebrating or reliving that spirit of christmas, that wasn't the case for satoru.
it wasn't a year ago and it will never be the case for satoru for as long as he lived.
december 25, 2018
the morgue was cold.
and it wasn't just the low temperature that gojo satoru hated in that confined room. it was the sterile bite of antiseptic in the air, or the chill of metal drawers and humming fluorescent lights above that flickered every now and then due to the power shortages that was caused by the aftermath of the shinjuku battle, or maybe... maybe it was the silence—that unnatural stillness that came when all warmth had been drained from a place.
it was hollow, it was dreading, it was torturing.
gojo satoru was never really used to the silence or the cold. he hadn't experienced it for a decade and a half.
ever since the moment his other half was born, satoru's life was never the same and he loved it that way.
from the moment she was born, he could remember she was this tiny thing, pink chubby cheeks, and screaming and warm. he still remembered the first time he held her, how her hand clutched his finger like she had chosen him from the start. how she looked up with eyes that matched his, satoru loved her more than anyone and anything in that moment.
she had never feared him.
she didn't bow, didn't look at him like a god or a curse. she would grab his hair and pull on his ears and fall asleep drooling on his shirt. and when she started talking—pestering him to no end, she filled the quiet.
"nii-chan, do you think santa speaks japanese and likes mochis?"
"nii-chan, can I warmp in your dorm and sleep there? I think there's a monster under my bed."
