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One thing is true in the world, and that is Gojo Satoru’s love for you.
Gojo Satoru loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. With all his heart and whatever’s left of his soul, he loves you.
For sure. For real. Forever.
For now.
He sighs as he looks at you. He looks around, out of a window, at the hauntingly beautiful garden, the acres of land that are his now .
He looked down at his hands. Gnarled, wrinkled hands.
I’m old , Gojo Satoru thinks. So damn old.
He looks at you and his heart pinches.
You’ve gotten old too, sweetheart. How come you’re still so damn pretty?
He laughs a quiet laugh, teeth still white and healthy and strong. How had he gotten here? Lying in the Gojo mansion, his mansion, musing on his life. What’s next, he’d coddle a newborn grandson in his arms and predict his future?
Nah, I already did that last week.
Children and grandchildren, he thinks reverently. Sons and daughters with sons and daughters.
He looked at you again. How the hell did we get here, sweetheart?
The Gojo clan had grown, all from him and you. Strong and healthy and regal. Good people, his people. He ruled them with a gentle hand now, softened with age, and they loved and respected him so. The Greatest Jujutsu Sorcerer , he thinks wryly, has now fathered those far greater than him.
And it was true. He had fulfilled his mission, hadn’t he? His life and all his losses were not in vain. He was seeing the birth of a great generation of sorcerers. Less deaths now, and more victories. Less enemies and more friends. Less of the past and more of the future.
Power, he thought, a deep pride running through him. Power and peace. I have been a good king, haven’t I? He spared you another glance. With a good queen by my side.
Your hair was as white as his now, and he’ll never get tired of teasing you about how we match now sweetie, look at us.
Your replies would come easy as breathing. Just a couple of old geezers now, you and me.
Back and forth you’d go, much to the dismay of your many children. Walking corpses. Mummies. All it takes is a gust of wind and all that.
Jokes about death came easy now, when he had lived his fill.
Lived my fill.
Bitterness finds its home back in Gojo Satoru’s life.
But he had long since accepted bitterness. He had learned to make peace with it, treat it like a mildly annoying friend that showed up once in a while and bit him on the ass.
Lived my fill.
Easy as breathing.
Life with you was as easy as breathing. He loved you. All these years, all these adventures, has led him to you. Sweeping you off your feet on the first date, dropping his ring when he proposed, a big white wedding filled with everyone you both loved.
Cooking, half-dressed in the kitchen. Making love under the stars. Holding your hand as you pushed out his children, his eyes filled with indescribable love as he watched yours twist with pain. Travelling, lots of it. Paris, Rome, Greece, the Americas.
Visits from his beloved students. The way his chest turns warm and molten when he holds Yuuji’s twin boys in his arms, while eight more pink-haired children run around and make a mess of his grounds. The Itadori battalion , he thinks in jest. He loves those children like his own. Nobara dropping in out of nowhere, a new boyfriend every other month, gorgeous as ever, endlessly teasing him on his liver spots.
Megumi, his Megumi, the first son he’s ever had. His Megumi, tall and willowy and immoveable in his power. His Megumi, his equal now, ruling the Zen’in clan alongside his legendary twin cousins. No more raging feud between these two families, because the blood of the covenant had triumphed over the water of the womb.
It always has, and it always will.
Laughter and love. Peace and power. Good food and good times. A good, happy life. Many beloved children. Children that had never, in his life, shamed or disappointed him.
A good, happy life with you.
You.
Lived my fill. Gojo Satoru has made peace with bitterness.
But he never really learned how to make peace with longing.
I’m old.
So damn old.
And I grew old alone.
Bitterness accompanies him in his waking hours, even at his happiest. But it stays by his side, like a loyal dog. It does not encroach, it does not intrude or take up any more space than it needs to.
It’s longing that does all of the above.
It claws at his heart and clamps around his throat. It makes his eyes burn, his jaw ache. It crawls under his skin and sits deep in his mind. It sends tingles all along his skull, and pushes into his ribs. Longing, so much longing.
Longing for the past. Longing for old friends. Dead friends. Friends that should have been here but weren’t.
Friends that were nothing but gravestones he visited weekly. Friends that were nothing but nightmares that roused him in the middle of the night. Friends that were nothing but regrets and what if s and so goddamn close s.
Friends that he had failed.
Nanami would never get to kick his feet up in Malaysia. Haibara never got to eat the food at his wedding.
Satoru sighs deeply, once more casting you a look. His eyes are as clear as day, the bright blue never changing after all these years.
One thing is true in the world, Gojo Satoru loves you.
Gojo Satoru loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. With all his heart and whatever’s left of his soul, he loves you.
For sure. For real. Forever.
For now.
Because no matter how much Gojo Satoru loves you, no matter how much you love him. He will always love him more.
His one and only.
His Suguru.
I’m so damn old.
I’m so, so damn tired.
And I miss you so damn much.
Gojo Satoru loves you. Gojo Satoru has lived a good life with you. He loves you, oh, he loves you so.
But Gojo Satoru wakes up at 3 AM, the hole in his chest gaping wide, spilling his guts out on the floor. Gojo Satoru lights cigarettes he never smokes, and downs liquor he never liked. Gojo Satoru looks for something he will never see again. Gojo Satoru says a name in his sleep, and that name is never yours. Gojo Satoru is a haunted house, half a heart and half a soul, and he misses Getou Suguru so damn much that he’s done nothing but break and break and break, all his damn life.
Gojo Satoru loves you, but Gojo Satoru loves Getou Suguru more.
Guess I’m just like any other person, huh, Suguru?
I got lonely, darling. I got so damn lonely out here without you.
I got lonely and sad and tired of being sad.
I got tired of missing you.
So I found her. I married her. I loved her because you’re too dead to love me back.
Sweeping you off your feet on the first date, dropping his ring when he proposed, a big white wedding full of all the people he’s ever loved. All that, he did for you. All that, he did with love and joy and deep, deep pride.
All that he did, and then some, knowing who was waiting for him when he died.
You were no fool, and he loved you for that. He never spoke to you about the only man he had ever loved, but he knew that you knew. He would be eternally grateful, in this life and the one after. You know why he married you, know what he needed you to be, so you kept him in good company all through the years. You kissed him when he walked out the door. You bore his children and piled sugar in his coffee. You exorcised curses, shoulder to shoulder with him. You fought and bled and won, side by side with him. A queen to his king. A soldier and a friend and a partner.
A way to pass the time.
So you watch him light cigarettes he never smokes. You pour him liquor he never liked.
You hold him as he cries for Getou Suguru in his sleep, in the way he would never cry for you.
Gojo Satoru is a good husband, a great, loyal, caring husband. A greater father. He loves you, pampers you, takes you with him everywhere he goes. He treats you as his equal, he worships and adores you.
But Gojo Satoru never misses you. He never longs for you. He never dreams about you.
He shares his laughter with you, but his tears are spent on another.
He wakes you up with a kiss and a smile, but he never, never dreams of you.
And while you shared his life with him, his death would always, always be meant for someone else.
And that was alright. He had never made peace with his longing, so you went and did it for him. You refuse to hold his doomed love, the ghost of Getou Suguru, against him, so instead you loved him back in double for it.
Some would say you were a fool for loving a man who saw ghosts during the day. Some would say you were a fool for loving a man who dreamt while he was awake. Some would say you were a fool for loving a man with holes in him, so many fucking holes, the biggest one smack dab in the middle of where his heart should be.
You’d say they were the fools, because loving Gojo Satoru, with all his ghosts and unsmoked cigarettes, was the best thing you’ve ever done.
Just love me now, you pray everyday. Love me now, and you’ll be free to love him forevermore.
Gojo Satoru smiles at you now, eyes bright as day. I’m old and so are you. How come you’re still so damn handsome?
As if reading your thoughts, he squeezes your wrinkled hands in his equally wrinkled hands. My wife, my beautiful, devoted, too-good-for-a-selfish-bastard-like-me wife.
It’s such a pity he had lost the ability to speak three days ago.
But who needs words, anyway?
Thank you.
Anything for you.
I love you.
I love you too.
I’m sorry.
I know, and I forgave you long ago.
You squeeze his wrinkled hands in your equally wrinkled hands.
And there, holding him tight, you let him go.
He looks at his legacy for one last time; his children, his grandchildren, his greatest, most beloved students. Yuuji had an arm around a sniffling Nobara, and his Megumi, his son, another man’s blessing but his pride and joy, was holding them both. Together, the three bow to him, their final thanks, and Satoru has never been more proud of them. My legacy, my pride and joy.
There, on his deathbed, holding you, he thanked you, he loved you, he said apologies that were long overdue.
The great Gojo Satoru closed his eyes against the afternoon sun. They will never open again.
I’m coming, Suguru.
Just a little while longer.
I’m coming.
His breath leaves him, and it will never come again.
I’m here, my love.
My one and only.
I’m here.
An arm snakes around his shoulder, pulling him closer. Gojo Satoru opens his eyes to the warm afternoon sun.
“Yeah, you damn idiot,” Getou Suguru laughs. “You’re here.”
“And what the fuck took you so long?”