Chapter Text
Gojo never quite wakes up at the first two rings of the alarm. It’s 6:00 am and he stirs but soon enough is back to sleep until the 6:30 am alarm rings. He is awake but feeling lazy, he stays until 7:00 am in bed. He stares at the wall, white and meaningless and imagines the same scenario over and over again. Waking up in his room once again having this all being a dream— a nightmare. But it never is. And the moment he sees the wall his stale, monotonous day starts.
Wake up. Take a lukewarm shower. Have breakfast that tastes like shit. Workout. Eat. Shit. And go back to sleep.
An easy schedule, boring if he dares say. Nothing new gets added and nothing gets moved. Most of the time he even shits at the same time for days at a time. Days melt between each other and it all has become just a long day of nothingness. A penitence.
And he is, under penitence that is. He is in prison after all, and has been for the last four years of his life. Valuable time that he will never see again. Experiences. People. But Gojo is far too gone to even care about that. You lose hope by the second year and by the third the hound cages become your refuge and the dogs become your enemies or your most trusted allies.
But what never changes is the excitement of something new, the breaking of his boring routine.
Gojo knows today some new fish are being brought in, he walks to the yards to see the dogs making line in front of the gated doors as the sweat box slowly drives in.
He stands by the gate as some dogs make space. The COs jump out of it; It reminds him of when he first went in. It’s intimidating, he has to be honest and that’s why he never makes comments— the others do. Crude, disgusting remarks.
Someone stands by his side—Gojo doesn’t recognize his voice, his name or his face— everyone here is forgettable. Everyone here is stale and disgusting. Like roaches.
Six fish walk out the box, in flashy orange uniforms and chained, hands and feet. The COs are explaining the rules and where they’ll be staying. Gojo stares without much of a reaction. Most of them are old, one is fat and short— he hopes he has money— another one is sporting a black eye— fighting already? — and his eyes land on a slender figure with a bowl cut, big expressive eyes, and Gojo feels bad for a second. That poor thing is not lasting more than a day.
Behind him, however, a tall slender figure stands, and that one is attractive. Gojo blinks as the guy looks around, he’s sporting a strange bang on the side of his face and his eyes scan around— Gojo senses no immediate fear and it’s interesting to see.
The COs push them forward and the gates open, Gojo walks at the same pace, keeping his eyes on that one fish… one last time— one last time before he sees him again, humiliated and fucked up. Because if he found it interesting enough he knows what the dogs are thinking.
The guy doesn’t turn, he steps inside and Gojo is forced to move away before it looks like he cares too much. And he doesn’t.
Afterwards, he attends lunch and listens to the soft chatter of the dogs all around. He doesn’t talk to anyone, most of the time he keeps company only to himself. He half expects the fish to step in but he knows better. The first few days he won’t see them, it won’t be until approximately a week has passed that they’ll stop crying at night and come out of the cages to eat with the rest of the dogs.
It takes time to get used to it.
Gojo goes to workout and spends his rec time roaming around the yard. Not like he can do anything else. He has read every book, has sang every possible song, has written, danced, jumped and done every exercise possible; and now, four years later, he has nothing to do.
Sometimes he hopes for a dog to jump him so he can let go some steam and kill ‘em for once. For the tension to go the highest, for the COs to speak to him— but nothing ever happens. He spends his day exactly like any other.
That is until he steps into the showers— late at night and when most dogs are already at the cafeteria. Most wouldn’t dare come down at night because of the blind spot you leave yourself in. Sure, it’s empty, but sometimes it isn’t and that one time you’re gonna regret it.
None of that applies to Gojo, however, as he’s the top dog of this shitty, disgusting place. No one talks to him and he talks to no one. Sometimes he’ll sit by Yuta and Panda’s side and listen to their conversation, sometimes he’ll go and have a game with the jailhouse lawyer, but most of the time is spent going around the place doing absolutely nothing.
When he goes down he expects the place to be empty or for one or two dogs to be there— the one’s that shut up and stay out of his way. The ones that mind their business just as he does.
Today there’s two people at the entrance and as he walks in he sees him — the guy with the weird bang. He’s giving his back to Gojo, having finished his shower already and with a towel around his waist.
He doesn’t notice him, until he does and he comes to a halt. They examine each other for a second before Gojo frowns and snaps,
“What are you lookin’ at?”
The guy raises his brow but he doesn’t seem too preoccupied. Of course he isn’t. He’s here staring down the top dog on his first day, taking a shower in the middle of the night all alone— what is wrong with this psycho? Has he not watched a single movie about prison in his life?
He doesn’t say anything, simply walks away to the lockers and starts picking up his things, drying himself and changing.
Gojo stares from time to time as he takes his own shower and once the guy is ready to leave he shuts off the water and says,
“You need to be more careful ‘round here.”
He’s not entirely sure why he does that. Why he cares enough to warn him of the imminent danger— a dog standing by the shower on his left twitches in his stance and he knows he’s listening. Not that he cares, really.
“Pardon me?” The guy turns. His hair is wet and fully down, almost at his shoulders and his bangs frame his face. He’s handsome. Probably the most handsome in here—after Gojo— and he knows he’s in danger.
“Being alone is a blind spot.”
“I’m not alone.”
Gojo is starting to get annoyed.
“You stay where there’s more than ten fucking people around.” He turns around and starts the shower again, “Or don’t. Do whatever you want, idiot.”
The guy doesn’t respond and when Gojo takes a look over his shoulder he’s long gone. The dog by his side is drying himself and soon, he parts; leaving Gojo alone.
It takes a few days for Gojo to see the weird bang guy again. He has forgotten all about his existence until he sees one of the new dogs sheepishly walk in, and he realizes he has not seen any of them. Another one gets in— the fat short one who seems unharmed— Gojo waits patiently until the others arrive. At some point he gets bored and simply pushes his food around.
They’re quiet, that’s interesting. Usually they’re eager to talk to anyone that will hear them cry about their circumstances. That doesn’t matter anymore. They’re dogs here. The lowest of the low. The ones that bite the hand that feeds and the only way to deal with them is to put them out of their misery.
“Look at the face on the bowlcut.” Yuta says a few seats away from him. He looks up to see the kid he saw on the first day, the jittery one with shinny eyes. He’s still alive and kicking— and he doesn’t look dull or traumatized. Gojo wonders who his celly is.
Behind him a tall figure looms over him. Not exactly protective but Gojo knows alliance when he sees it. Slender but muscled, definitely strong— the weird bang from the shower. Gojo stares at him until his eyes draw enough attention that they make eye contact. And without thinking, Gojo looks away.
He hopes no one saw that. He moves his food around and takes a bite, trying to act as if the loss of the contact was a mere coincidence and not him backing away in any way.
There’s chatter, rough voices murmuring crude vile things. Gojo has never joined them. He looks at them again, tries to keep his eyes glued to the bowl cut guy. He gives that one a month at most before he has found himself turned out. It’s just a matter of time here. Weird bang guy stays close to him but is actually looking around when Gojo looks up. Ah, to have some sort of curiosity again. To be interested enough about the dogs here. Gojo doesn’t miss it. But he misses feeling anything at all.
He's feeling something now, however. As he stares at the guy who makes line and stands his ground. He’s interesting, he supposes. Interesting enough he can’t stop staring at him.
They stay in line for food, Yaga is serving today which means no spit for the newcomers and no extra salt and no fun. Bummer.
Gojo side eyes mr. bang and tries not to make it super obvious, but he knows he’s caught when once again they make eye contact, this time he doesn’t back down and the guy—amber shinning eyes—softly tilts his head. It’s not aggravating, not an invitation for a fight. It’s pure unadulterated curiosity and Gojo had almost forgot what it felt, when he fist arrived and everyone stared at him like that— what is a good looking guy with the face of an angel doing here with the dogs? And truth be told he doesn’t even know anymore himself. It is taboo to ask one another their crimes, over here there are no better no worse. Though if the dogs find out and they don’t like it you might as well kiss your asshole goodbye.
It is as they say and as they say there’s rules you can’t break. Don’t ask about the crimes, don’t accept gifts. Don’t look at the shot caller.
Gojo doesn’t break eye contact and finally mr. bang does. He looks at Yaga and thanks him for the food—he’ll like that for sure— and then he walks swiftly to sit.
Gojo can’t help but blink when it becomes obvious that he’s coming to his table.
Don’t sit where you’re not invited.
“Hey.” He says and smiles and sits his preppy, dumb ass down.
Gojo is so dumbfounded he doesn’t say anything for a whole minute as the idiot moves the food around with a grimace.
“I don’t expect it to get better, then,” he says and his voice is masculine yet soft and gentle. He’s talking to him like they’re friends. Like he knows him.
“What are you doing?” Gojo asks and despite him wanting to sound intimidating he sounds weirdly coy.
The guy looks up again making eye contact. Gojo’s skin is prickling. Just who the hell does this guy think he is?
“Eating.”
“You can’t sit here.”
He looks around, “Why? It’s like… all empty,” his eyes dart for a second before he turns to Gojo again, “…I see.“
“You see?”
“Yeah, I did something wrong, didn’t I?”
“You definitely did.” Gojo sounds more stern now but they’re both whispering, having a conversation that should have never taken place. Gojo should stand and kick him in the face—stab him with his fork, and truth be told he almost does it, but the guy turns to him again and his eyes pin him to his seat and render him useless.
“Oh.”
That's all?
“I apologize. Where else can I sit?”
Gojo attributes his lack of reaction to utter shock from how stupid this dumbass is.
“I don’t give a shit. Just move.”
“Right.” He says and looks to the side and before he can make any more mistakes, for god knows what reason Gojo discretely points to his side.
“With him.”
The guy turns to the side and stares for a second before turning and smiling at Gojo, promptly standing up and leaving but he doesn’t sit down with Yuta, no, he walks past, past even the other inmates and quietly trashes his food and leaves.
Oh, hell.
Gojo looks around. Everyone is silent and as he stares they lower their gaze. Good. Good. This was just a misstep. He was feeling lazy and non confrontational. That’s right. To further prove his point he covers his yawn with his hand and lifts his foot to the seats by his side. His blood is rising but he takes another bite and looks around once more. No one is staring, well Yuta is but he always is staring at everything. Gojo makes eye contact and he looks away almost immediately.
Gojo goes straight to the gym after that little incident. He trains lightly, just in case someone wants to earn an ass-beating but nothing happens. And nothing happens so hard that not even mr. bang is present. He hasn’t seen him for the whole day and it isn’t until dinner that he finally sees him again. His blood rises, not entirely out of anger but the guy goes and sits by the bowl cut.
“Huh, not dead yet.” He says to no one and he finishes his shit plate. This is the most interesting thing that has happened to him in the last—what? Six months? He brushes his interest off as that, complete and utter boredom.
Days go boring again however and it isn’t until three or four—Gojo doesn’t even count anymore— days later that an ugly mug approaches him during yard.
Gojo is just resting, lazily lying on the grass with his eyes closed when the sound of someone clearing his throat disturbs him awake.
“Hey, Gojo.” Dagon says and his little pack of bitches are right behind him. Gojo is getting ideas, but nothing ever happens at the yard—there’s too much space, and too many COs— so he just stares at him without the need to reply.
“We wanna kno’ if you’re taking the newbie as your bitch.”
What the hell are these gross bums talking about?
“I already got one.” His roommate, whose name Gojo keeps forgetting and that keeps his cock warm by night if he needs it.
“So, no?”
“What newbie are you looking at?”
“Geto,” the one right behind him says, “the one with..” he very poorly mimics a bang and Gojo is immediately standing up.
“You want him?” He asks and Dagon smiles.
“We do.” He says and for the first time they make eye contact. His eyes are dull like those of an animal—most probably because that’s what he is; what he has become.
“Nah, I gotta see him. You can have the one in my room though.”
“But you haven’t—“ one of them starts and the other elbows his side sharply—smart.
“Very well,” says Dagon but he definitely looks annoyed, Gojo basks in the face he’s making, “Have you been hiding him? we haven’t seen him.”
“Nope.” Gojo says and shrugs. And he hasn’t seen him either. He wonders what hole he got himself into.
The men don’t say anything else, simply turn and leave. And now Gojo has to find mr. bang— or Geto, as they called him, to get him to cooperate.
He hasn’t had a bitch in a long time, at least not one that the whole junkyard knows but as he walks through the empty cages he realizes the feeling taking over his guts is excitement. If he’s being honest he’s been looking for an excuse to talk to him or approach in a way that seems appropriate with their hierarchy and thanks to some idiots, he has found it. It’s a little strange they assumed Gojo wanted him, if they had taken him he probably wouldn’t have noticed, but he’s grateful for it either way.
Grateful for stupidity being a plague in this shit-hole.
Once he has gone through all the corners he knows he gives up and approaches the bowlcut kid without a care.
“Hey, where’s your shadow?”
The kid turns to him and his eyes still look shinny and alive. Weird.
“Excuse me?”
“Your shadow— Geto.”
“Oh.” He says and looks around, “I’m not sure but he shares room with me, you can see him then.”
What an idiot that sounds like such an invitation to fuck him up. Gojo chuckles and the kid blinks but smiles at him. Idiot.
“Alright, then.” He grins, “but you don’t know where he’s been?”
The kid hesitates for just a second, “No.”
Gojo knows he knows but he’s protecting him. Ballsy. Or stupid if he knew who the top dog of this place is. He could gain a lot from giving him up. He’ll learn, and Gojo will let it slide this once.
He simply turns around and leaves, walking to the showers to give one last round before completely giving up. He’s just annoyed, because now he knows others are looking and it’s not like he’s dumb, when he saw mr. bang being all tall and mysterious he knew lots of the fags would want him. He knows that’s why he’s hiding, wherever he is.
As night gets close, Gojo doesn’t pay him a visit. He goes straight to his cage and lays down on his bed with a huff. He’ll let him come to him. Bowl cut knows he’s looking for him now and if he’s smart he’ll show up tomorrow first thing in the morning.
“Gojo,” the voice on top speaks and he looks up to find his roommate—whose name he has forgotten— looking at him from his bed.
“What?”
“In the mood?”
“Nah and dude,” he sighs, fixing his position, “I don’t need you anymore. Just letting ya know.”
The silence that falls in the cell is cold and gruesome. Gojo knew he’d take it badly but truly it’s just the way things are. He needs something new, fresh and his roommate—fuck he couldn’t even pick him out of a line if he had to.
“So, it’s true.”
“What is?”
“You into the newbie.”
Gojo opens his eyes to see the dude still staring at him from the top bed. Creepy.
The doors close with a rattly sound and he can hear the dogs get as comfortable as they can in their beds.
“Who’s saying that?”
“Everyone.” He says and starts climbing down, “They said you didn’t fight him that day in the cafeteria because of it. Because you liked him.”
“Excuse me?” Gojo says as he sits up. His roommate goes down the last stairs and they stare at each other. There’s a pause.
“I can’t let you give me to them.”
“That ain’t my business. I have no other bitch I just don’t want you any—“
The man throws himself at him and Gojo barely has time to react before he pulls himself back to have space to grab him. He grasps his hair to keep him down as he kneels and then punches him right in the face, making him fall backwards.
“You don’t understand they’ll eat me alive! ” He claws his way up his bed and actually manages to connect a fist to his face. Gojo kicks him as hard as he can and drags himself forward to fight him properly. It takes maybe one minute and two punches before the COs are outside and yelling. Record time.
They pull the man out of the cell and he’s yelling and throwing profanities at everyone and Gojo simply stares as he is dragged away. His blood is rushing and he breathes heavily and actually gasps as strong arms grasp him and pin him to the bed frame.
“Stay still, this is the second time. You know what that means.”
“No—“ Gojo tries, “Oi, Nanami he started it. He— he hit me first and—“
The tall blond doesn’t care. He pushes him forward as he pants to get air in his lungs. His eye is starting to ache and he spits on the floor as he is dragged down the stairs.
“You need to start behaving.” The other CO says as they enter the long hall with the boxes. Gojo can’t help it, his feet dig into the floor as he tries to stop them from putting him inside of one of those cages.
“It’s three days,” Nanami says by his side, “and we’re being nice.”
Gojo struggles but it’s futile. He knows the result and he is pushed forward and inside the solitary confinement cage before the heavy door is closed.
He breathes. Pants and—he’s not sure how long it takes— he yells out in frustration. Hitting the door, the walls and lifting the bed as he lets this anger out. He circles the room like a caged animal, and that’s all he is here. An animal. Some nasty dog no one wanted and was sent to die a slow death. It’s the moist room, the smell, the heaviness of the air that makes him wish his sentence had been high enough he had been killed. Anything but being here.
Gojo’s biggest enemy is boredom and he has to entertain himself by counting, singing, jumping, exercising anything to get his head out of the state of abandonment he is in.
He doesn’t eat. He’s not sure if he even shits. He doesn’t take a shower and he doesn’t speak once. Not even when Nanami comes down himself to coerce him into eating.
By the end when they open the door his eyes are hypersensitive and he is pulled out almost blinded by the lights to the pristine hall—the only clean place in this shithole— before he is dragged out and about the cells until they find his designated cage and they all buy throw him in.
Gojo pants face down as he hears the door rattling and he doesn’t incorporate fully, simply raises his head and drags himself to his nasty bed. He’s hungry. He feels brain dead. The voice inside of his head has gone quiet and his thoughts have mushed and melted all together.
“Are you okay?”
He comes to a halt. And he stills in his bed as his blood runs cold. He looks up in a flash, and up there looking down at him is mr. bang himself. Geto. The dude that caused all of this.
He climbs down the stairs in a quick swift motion and Gojo tenses all up as he approaches and puts his hands on him. But he’s not punishing. He grabs him under the armpits gently and lifts him up, helping him climb the bed fully. Once he’s done he takes two steps back. He’s barefooted. His hair falling over his shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Gojo asks and his voice rasps and he coughs. Of course he gets him something to drink and of course Gojo rejects him in lieu of standing and walking to the sink, drinking the water from the tap. He tries to clear his thoughts but having him here is making him nervous for no good reason.
“Nanami came to collect my things and they just switched me. They said you tried to kill your roommate so maybe they want me dead.”
Gojo actually laughs and he turns to find him— Geto, standing in the middle of the room.
“He tried to kill me they just have a fucking vendetta against me here.”
Geto doesn’t seem convinced. He looks away briefly before looking back at Gojo.
“Haibara said you were also looking for me.”
Gojo’s thoughts are all over the place. He’s making him nervous. Not scared just— he’s not sure what exactly he is feeling, but his blood starts rushing like he’s in the middle of a fight and he wonders if his brain is recognizing him as a threat, or if seg got to him a little too hard this time around.
“Who the hell is that?”
“My roommate, or well,”
“Bowlcut.”
Geto chuckles and his eyes softly close.
“Yes. Him.”
“Hell,” Gojo grasps his head, heading for his bed and sitting down heavily, “let me rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Alright. Yeah you look like shit.” He says as a matter of fact and starts climbing his bed. Gojo decides he doesn’t like that attitude of his.
“Oi, this is the offer of a lifetime. I know you hide everyday because everyone wants to rape you to death. Since you’re already here…”
Geto freezes. He looks uncomfortable and that easygoing attitude finally dulls to show what is normal. What is normal here.
Fear. Disgust. Anger.
“You know I hide.”
“Yeah, but not where.”
“Did you arrange this?”
Gojo frowns, “Hell no.”
Geto swallows compulsively. Somehow it’s enjoyable to see him break character. Gojo was getting irked by his gentle face.
“But—“
Gojo waits but nothing comes out.
“But?”
Geto turns to him and his eyes are downcast and dull.
“I don’t like you.”
Gojo stares for a long moment. And then he bursts out laughing.
“No one fucking likes anyone here you dumbass!” He cackles as Geto looks away with an angry expression, “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
There’s a long time in which neither says anything. Geto looks conflicted and Gojo realizes… he doesn’t actually like that expression on him. Somehow his gentle face is more welcoming, something he hasn’t seen in almost four years. And it weighs on him. That he’s doing this to him, the way it was almost done to him once.
“Fine.” Geto says and sighs.
But that’s the law here. And that’s how it’s all handled. Geto climbs up the stairs heavily and lays down with what sounds like a sigh. Gojo’s stomach twists and he lays down with a clear of his throat.
“I’m probably the best looking guy in here, you’re being dramatic.”
“Whatever,” Geto says silently, “You ain’t my type.”
He ain’t his type? Those exist? This dude needs to fucking grow up and understand that the shit done here is out of necessity, never of desire or anything else. What a fucking cunt.
“You should be thankful.”
Geto doesn’t respond, but Gojo wishes he would. He wonders if this is the beginning of the end for him. The dulling of the eyes, the crouching, the skittishness.
He finds out he doesn’t care. And he doesn’t care even in the morning when Geto doesn’t even look at him. The silent treatment? What a child. Gojo doesn’t have to speak to him, let’s see who breaks first. He doesn’t talk to anyone, sometimes going days without looking people in the eye.
The doors open and he leaves. And Gojo walks right behind him just staring. Staring at how everyone looks at him, desires him and yes, all too familiar. And he should be thankful because in a few days no one will look at him again.
Gojo doesn’t see him again until lunch. Sitting with Haibara who is talking animatedly and smiling. Amazingly, he hasn’t been killed by cock. Gojo is impressed.
“Hey,” he says when he is close enough and he sees Geto’s shoulders tense before he slowly looks back at him, “sit with me.”
It’s how it’s done. If he doesn’t want to talk, so be it but the dogs need to know. Gojo doesn’t particularly like parading bitches around, though he has to be honest and say it is kinda funny sometimes but with Geto nothing is funny. He doesn’t understand why he feels so conflicted as they both sit and Geto avoids looking at him. He doesn’t even sit that close.
“I don’t bite.”
“Sure.” He says and takes a bite of his sandwich.
“Who the hell gave you that?” Gojo eyes him incredulously.
“Yaga, the cook.”
“Are you fucking insane? Did you fuck him? Do you know what the dogs will think if they realize?”
Geto takes a big bite, chews for a moment staring at him from the corner of his eye and then says, “I don’t mind.”
“Jesus christ. Are you suicidal? Or just plain stupid?”
“He gave it to a lot of us. Look.” He says and briefly points around. And it’s true. Some of them have sandwiches and all of them are eating them with gusto.
“Why?”
“I helped clean the kitchen.”
“Oh, what a goody two shoes.” Gojo mocks but Geto doesn’t respond. He simply eats his sandwich looking forward and promptly ignoring him.
And yes. It irks him. For the first time in a long time he feels annoyed that someone is not responsive to his presence.
“So, have you decided?” Gojo tries pathetically.
“Seems you have decided for me. Sitting me here with you and all that.”
Gojo can’t help but roll his eyes, “This is the safest fucking table in this shithole. Do you see how everyone stares at you?”
“Yeah, yeah. Everyone wants to fuck me. I got that.” He rolls his eyes and Gojo grins in annoyance as he breathes out half a laugh.
“Did they put you here for insanity? Are you sure you ain’t supposed to be in the mental hospital?”
This time Geto turns to him, straight up and with a glint in his eye and Gojo feels challenged for the very first time in years.
“I was put here because I killed and I’m gonna die in here being a killer.” He looks at his sandwich and gives an elegant bite to it, “Do you need to talk while you eat? You’re kind of annoying.”
Gojo will stab him. He will grab his fork and gouge those two pretty eyes out of his sockets.
“I’m kind of annoying?”
“Yep.” He says with a final bite, “So goodbye. I’ll see you around. Or not.”
He walks away. Free of consequence and with both his eyes. And Gojo sits there staring at him with eyes big as plates. And he does nothing.
By the time they meet again in the room Gojo is waiting for him with a resolution. No more playing around. He has been extremely lax with this guy, letting him insult him not once but a couple of times in the span of like a minute? That’s crazy. And it’s not happening again.
Geto is one of the last to walk through the cells and he stops at the door for a long moment, before stepping inside.
“Hey,” Gojo says with a mocking grin. And Geto side eyes him.
“I’ve thought about it. I want you to leave me alone.”
The room falls into silence and Geto seems to wait for a response but Gojo can simply stare at him stunned.
After a moment he moves as the door rattles closed and he climbs on his bed noisily and lays down immediately.
“You are fucking crazy,”
“No, I just don’t want you.”
“And you want everyone else in this shit hole to—“
“I’ll manage. I have so far.”
Gojo stands up and stares at his back.
“You have managed because everyone was under the impression that I wanted you as my bitch. Otherwise you would have—“
“Then so be it!” He turns around and yells at his face. Ballsy.
They stare at each other with scowls and deep frowns. Just like the dogs they are.
“You seem to forget why I was put in here.”
“We were all put in here for a reason. I don’t care about yours. You don’t understand how it is in here and I am giving you an outlet.” Gojo sneers.
“And I don’t want it. So keep your dick in your pants and stay away from me.” He says the last words so filled with venom it almost feels like he’s spitting on his face.
Gojo clicks his tongue and leans down to lay on his bed.
“You’ll come to regret that.”
“Get someone else to do it.”
And he could. He could offer anyone the same outlet and guess what? They’ll say yes and kiss his feet. And yet here he is quite literally begging for this idiot to take the bait. Well let’s see how he likes it. Gojo doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about his family, his so called friends and he most definitely does not care about a stupid stranger. Fuck him and he will be fucked soon. Next time he sees him he’ll be a limping mess with eyes filled with regret and Gojo will rejoice in that. No outlet and no nothing. Idiot. Stupid.
Geto is like a ghost in the room. He doesn’t speak, sometimes he makes noises as he flips the pages of a book—what a nerd— that he got to pass time. Otherwise he doesn’t talk to Gojo. At all. Sometimes he will say short phrases. What time is it? What does that alarm mean? Where’s this and that? But otherwise Gojo might as well be dead. And the worst part of this situation is that he somehow feels bad about it.
He feels like he defiled him somehow despite Gojo not laying a single finger on him. Did he come too strong? Was he too pushy?
The dogs start barking, as Geto stops sitting with him and they don’t interact. They know. And soon he hears it clearly, Geto’s schedule being passed around. Where is he and at what time. And he knows…it’s coming.
His stomach is knotted for most of the day, one Monday afternoon. He’s been counting the days as he has never before. On Monday by the showers. They had said and he had to break and ask Nanami what day it was.
Does Geto know? He watches his back as he leaves when the doors open. He looks tense, but he always kinda does. He hopes he’s not imagining it and he’s coming up with anything to defend himself. Why does he care? He shouldn’t. He’s a stranger that has done nothing but insult him, berate him and ignore him.
Gojo is restless all morning and by rec he has made up his mind.
The first day he stepped into the junkyard he promised himself— so long ago he promised to not become one of them. To retain something of himself, of his image that he so cared about. And he has been battled, punched, spit on and defiled. And he’s not sure it remains there. The Gojo that got in is definitely not the Gojo that is sitting there in the grass knowing what’s about to happen.
But maybe he is. Somehow, deep, deep inside a spark of empathy, of humanity…he’s not sure what it is— but it ignites and moves him as fast as he can to the baths and he goes down the stairs with a soft trot and a disgusted grimace because he can hear them. The animals that rest in this place. Barking, barking all the time. Guided by instinct and animalistic desire. But he’s not like them. He’s the top dog here, sure, but he refuses to be like ‘em.
Geto is standing in the middle of a circle of guys. Naked and with an angry glint to his eye. The shower is still on and Gojo can see it. The dogs are all circling him, the desire to destroy him overpowering in the mist of the moist room. Testosterone has a smell—and it smells like hunger for violence.
“The little bitch didn’t cut it, but don’t worry maybe we can loosen you up a bit. Teach you a few tricks.”
“You’re gonna be begging to be bred by every man in this place after we’re done with you.”
“Good riddance on not cutting that hair, I love pulling bitches as I fuck their faces.”
Gojo comes into view. Geto sees him first and his eyes glint even angrier. He has the complete wrong idea and he can only imagine what’s going on in his brain.
The dogs all turn to him. One by one and they step aside as he closes the space. Geto is completely naked, but he managed to hold them off. He has big balls that’s for sure and he’s not…talking about his actual balls— Gojo wants to take a quick glance. He might. After he’s done calling their bluff.
No one speaks and for a long moment the only sound is the water hitting against Geto’s frame.
“Scatter.” Gojo says simply and the dogs twitch in their places but one by one leave with their tails between their legs. Disgusting, vile creatures.
He watches them climb the stairs and leave and slowly turns to look at Geto who is looking at him with curiosity painting his features. He’s so… expressive. So alive, so human. And Gojo wants to put his hand inside. Feel what he’s feeling. Understand.
“You gonna be the instigator?” He asks but Gojo can tell the tension is gone and he’s just trying to be annoying.
“I might. I mean you’re standing there all naked.”
Geto smiles and his eyes flutter close and Gojo feels something twitch in his stomach.
“You’ve been hard to get rid of.”
Gojo walks up to him but Geto doesn’t move away. This time he seems to accept him near him, to accept whatever it is he’s giving him but Gojo simply closes the shower and rests by the wall, staring at him.
Geto side eyes him, before looking away briefly. Gojo takes the opportunity to scan his body and when he looks up their eyes meet and he is turning to face him.
“You checking me out?”
Gojo contains the need to roll his eyes, “Wanted to see if your build was enough to pull off the insanity you were about to pull.”
“You can check me out, that's fine.”
And because he has lost his sense of dignity he fucking does it. He racks his eyes down and stares at his his muscled chest, his flat stomach, at his abs and goes even lower to take in his cock, long and girthy and his pubes climb up his stomach and make him the image of masculinity—and Gojo would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. He has never looked at a man like this, despite having fucked a few in these cages. But all of those were dogs, animals to be trashed. This is a human Gojo wants to touch. To feel; and his desire is overwhelming him enough he is not sure how to reel it back inside.
“You done with your little brave act?” Gojo asks annoyed above everything and he stares at Geto’s eyes that are filled with humor—for some reason.
“Act? I’d rather go down fighting.”
“Oh, you were gonna go down lemme tell you that.”
Geto laughs. He looks relieved and Gojo knows he is. And it feels satisfying to know for once he caused something positive in him.
“What can I say?” Geto sighs and looks down at the floor, “Thanks for coming I guess.”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose I owe you one.” He says and the avoidance starts again. He looks away and toward the towels but Gojo stops him in his tracks by saying,
“Can you play pretend?”
“Huh?” He turns to stare at him.
“Play pretend.”
“About…what?”
“You know what. How about you and I play pretend? I’m not gonna touch you. You don’t owe me anything but play along with me.”
Geto stares with squinted eyes, looking for the catch, but this time around there isn’t one. Gojo doesn’t want anything to happen to him. He doesn’t want this beautiful man to be brought to shambles and humiliated. From the very first moment they made eye contact, he knew not this one. And not this one, he will not allow it.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Aren’t I allowed to be nice?”
“Sure but… well, I…” he seems to consider something for a long time, “If you really want it… I can like—blow you. Final offer.”
Gojo bursts into a laugh and Geto chuckles seemingly airless. Gojo brushes the thought aside and moves forward to get closer to him.
“You said I wasn’t your type.”
Geto's smile turns into a deep line, “Yeah. Sorry.”
“What is your type though?”
“Women.”
Gojo laughs again. Loud and carefree and human.
“Dude, we are all into chicks!”
“You didn’t seem that way a moment ago, checking me out and all you would have zoomed in on my dick if you could’ve.”
Gojo pushes him playfully and, surprisingly, Geto pushes him back with a grin.
He feels airless. Funny.
“Lemme change.” Geto says and walks to the towels quickly grabbing one and drying himself gently.
“Having your hair long is a death sentence here man.”
“Should I cut it?” He asks and sounds genuine. And no. Gojo doesn’t want that.
“No.”
Geto turns to him, pulling his hair back and into a low bun. Jesus.
“You got it covered, then?”
“Yeah.” He says airless staring at his face. Geto smiles and passes a shirt over his head. They end up leaving the showers together and when they exit Gojo sees the—the men waiting outside. They look annoyed, some even furious and he has to restrain himself not to pull out his tongue at them like a five year old would.