Chapter Text
Gojo is born guilty. He's brought into the world already bearing all the sins of his clan, peers, strangers. This is his fate—a congenital twist that shapes the rest of his life. It's an awful lot to bear but Gojo is never given the opportunity to consider that. He's prodigious in everything but acknowledging his own pain.
There are layers to being a sorcerer. You have an obligation to defend simply because of an innate power that you never asked for. It's hard to be selfless when cursed energy itself is so selfish, making a house of your body and forcing your own happiness to become secondary. Gojo takes it all in stride because he has to. He does it better than anyone else because he has to.
He doesn't know what he would be if not for this.
Happy?
There's little room for regret when you walk the border between the living and the non-living. Gojo's eyes see too much. He's never been shielded by any sort of veil. He's never had that luxury.
"Are you listening?" There's a clicking sound and Gojo redirects his focus to the person in front of him. Itadori's snapping his fingers for his attention and it should be annoying but the kid looks concerned, so earnest with his emotions that it's sometimes painful.
He had found him in the lounge and started talking his ear off—flitting from topic to topic as if he were in a race. Gojo's mind had drifted without meaning to.
"I'm listening." Gojo nods, having not heard a word but he's sure that he can figure it out. It's probably to do with Kugisaki and her impromptu desire to go skydiving. "You should be glad that Kugisaki pushes you to do exciting things."
"So, you agree then?" Itadori asks, grinning in a way that Gojo can't quite decipher.
"Of course. It would be a good experience." Gojo nods sagely, hand stroking at his non-existent beard in what he believes to be a wise manner.
"Kugisaki thought you would say no but I said that you're not that stingy." Itadori looks very pleased at the thought of reporting this back to his classmate. Gojo just stares, feeling a little lost.
What's this about being stingy?
He's left even more confused when Itadori holds out an expectant hand. There's a pause of several seconds before Itadori finally says, "do you not have your card on you?"
Oh.
Somehow, Gojo had agreed to give the kids money without noticing. He fishes his wallet out of his pocket and finds his card, handing it over in relief that it wasn't a more serious request.
Itadori's smile lights up his face. It doesn't take much for him to appear happy. Gojo feels guilt well up inside of him. Itadori should save his smiles for people who have earned them. He shouldn't let others have them so freely. Especially not when there's something behind the smile, the same insidious thing that always lurks behind all of Itadori's expressions. But Gojo dismisses the thought, shrugging off the phantom cursed energy with one move.
"Thanks sensei. I'll give it back to you when we're done." Itadori is already rushing away after a quick bow. Gojo watches him leave, only now wondering about why they needed his card.
There's a sound from behind and Gojo pivots where he's sitting to look at Nanami who's mid-snort. He had been faithfully typing away on his laptop for the last thirty minutes, but must have been listening to their conversation if his amused expression is anything to go by.
"What?" Gojo says, glaring as best he can considering Nanami has never seemed to have been intimidated by him.
"You didn't hear a single word, did you?"
"I'll have you know I heard everything."
Nanami looks at him over the rim of his glasses, sceptisicm practically oozing from his eyes. "Why did he take your card then?"
Why?
Gojo has no idea. He stares. Then he stares some more, mouth twitching as he attempts to say something, but coming up short. Nanami tuts, waving a cavalier hand as if to dismiss him, before looking back at his work.
"You'll find out soon enough by checking your account statement."
It's clear that the brief interval is now over. He's lost Nanami's attention; something that is very hard to catch in the first place. He feels an absence—a craving for something that he knows is linked to his colleague.
In Gojo's daydreams, when his thoughts float so far away he can no longer touch them, he's striving to deny the heavens of his fate. He's no longer a product of a bloodline that runs as wide as a river. Gojo flees from every written creed that touches his name. In his daydreams, he is powerless and it's Nanami who shapes the skies, bending the earth to his will just as metal becomes liquid under heat.
He doesn't know why this is a source of comfort; he believes a therapist would probably have much to say, though.
Nanami is the one saving grace that Gojo allows himself to privately cherish.
It's too quiet. A fan is whirring somewhere above and Gojo shivers, goosebumps rising along his arms as he worries at his lip. He's not afraid of anything but this silence—doesn't have any fear other than rejection.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," he says, despondent despite himself.
"What?" Nanami says, quickly, like he was waiting for this, had known it would happen.
"Be so dismissive."
"I'm working." Nanami's hair is always meticulous in how it's styled, but today a strand is coming loose, slowly falling down to where his forehead is. Gojo wonders what Nanami thinks of himself; wonders if he's aware how he comes across—that he's always the most beautiful person in any room.
He pushes back the strand and continues to stare at Gojo, always looking straight at his eyes despite how strange they are.
"Have you eaten today?" Gojo asks then, thinking of a little cafe ten minutes away that makes the best madeleines, the ones that make Nanami smile when he eats them.
Nanami startles slightly, eyes widening before he glances at the watch on his wrist. It's a quarter to twelve. "I haven't, no. But it's good that you mentioned it because I'm meeting someone for lunch and almost forgot." Nanami starts packing away in a flurry, his hands moving so fast you'd think he was in combat. The laptop is put away in seconds and Gojo deflates, courage seeping away as he watches that same strand fall forward again.
When Nanami strides to the door, he pauses and turns back to look at Gojo, a discerning look on his face that feels like being see-through.
"They're reserving rooms at an all-inclusive resort with your card. You agreed to chaperone." Nanami tilts his head and it seems like he might be sympathetic for the plight Gojo has landed himself in but then he grins, languishing in mischief.
He's gorgeous, Gojo laments. The ones you can't have always are.
Nanami is still grinning, not bothering to wave goodbye as he leaves. Gojo is left alone to debate on whether he should run to catch up with Itadori and set the story straight.
He doesn't have the heart to do it.
***
It's the middle of the night and Gojo is tearing himself apart under the careful watch of God. It's not a regular occurrence. Usually, he has no issue falling asleep and staying that way until daybreak. But tonight Gojo had woken up gasping, remnants of a dream still plaguing him. He had a gun and the world was stitched together the wrong way, trees growing downwards and the pavement a sludge of never-drying concrete.
There had been someone with hair as dark as ink. He shakes his head, unwilling to entertain the thought.
He's at the bay windows, curtains pulled open so he can see the turn of the moon, the blink of the stars. Gojo wants to see the world for what it is but is stuck seeing only blue, branded onto the backs of his eyelids at birth. Yet, the moon is steady, unchanging regardless of his strength.
The truth is that being the strongest is the most defining fact of Gojo's existence. The chaos of the universe is white noise in comparison to his abilities and he should be grateful, should worship at every cosmic altar for deeming him to be worthy.
He's revolting.
Gojo can't look in a mirror without seeing a monster—something plasticine and unnatural. He can't acknowledge himself without a voice in his head telling him that he's never going to be enough, that each death is on his hands.
The moon is obscured by a cluster of clouds and Gojo rolls his eyes, not even able to be melodramatic in peace. Sleep is still out of the question so he settles for sinking down onto the loveseat and laying down so the heavens are flipped.
He fears that he may be a burden. More than that, he fears he may be nothing at all and—
There's a buzzing coming from his bedside table. Gojo slides off the loveseat and slinks over to grab his phone. The screen tells him that it's just past two but that's not the pressing issue. No, what catches his eye is the message notification from Nanami.
Nanamin: do you want to get lunch tomorrow?
The message causes something in Gojo to short-circuit.
I'm still in my dream, aren't I?
He pinches himself. It does nothing.
Gojo: why are you awake?
Nanamin: is that a no?
Gojo: it's an "i'm confused but intrigued"
Nanamin: you were going to ask yesterday, weren't you? if i wanted to have lunch? well i do.
Gojo: why are you awake
Nanamin: probably the same reason you are
He grimaces, both hoping and knowing that can't be true.
Gojo: i'm awake because i was thinking of you
Nanamin: you're not funny
Nanamin: but i'll see you tomorrow
Gojo: goodnight nanamin
The night stretches onward and Gojo finally falls asleep, phone in his hand like a lifeline.