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The first time Yuuji sees Gojo-sensei sleep is a realization.
Gojo is surprisingly still in his sleep, such a stark contrast from his loudly exaggerated movements while he’s awake. No, while he’s awake, Gojo is all throwing his hands up in the air dramatically or laughing with his whole body at one of his own jokes or crossing his arms and pouting when Fushiguro or Kugisaki call him a useless teacher. When he’s asleep, though, Yuuji could half convince himself that Gojo-sensei was vulnerable.
His mouth is slightly open—just a hint of teeth peeking through, perfectly clean, almost obnoxiously so. His head is turned slightly towards Yuuji, as if he’d been watching him for a bit before drifting off, and his arms are bent uncomfortably, one strewn across the back of the couch while the other rests awkwardly on his lap. His blindfold is still tightly wrapped around his eyes, though, and Yuuji has to press back the urge to reach out and slip it off him.
Yuuji figures Gojo probably didn’t mean to fall asleep, especially because the only reason he was here at all was because he was avoiding another “absolutely miserably boring like seriously talking to dirt would be more interesting” meeting. Yuuji had already been nearly asleep when Gojo-sensei popped in to hide, but he still managed to laugh, sleepily cracking up at the idea of his teacher making conversation with the ground.
The last thing Yuuji remembers is Gojo asking whether (and then complaining about) Yuuji was about to fall asleep on him in his time of distress. Yuuji would have thought Gojo would’ve just left after that, but from the proof of a sleeping Gojo-sensei right in front of him, it seems that isn’t the case.
Yuuji glances at the clock to see how much time has passed, blinking blearily when he realizes it hasn’t even been two hours. He glances back at Gojo.
No movement, still, even with Yuuji awake. According to Gojo-sensei just a couple of weeks ago, it could be difficult for him to sleep when there were others awake in the room with him. Yuuji remembers thinking that was kind of sad, wondering if that meant he always made sure to sleep alone.
So, Yuuji wasn’t exactly sure what to do in this situation.
Would Gojo be upset that he’s asleep right now? Maybe what Gojo had meant by that was that he was just mentally uncomfortable being around others when he was asleep—Yuuji supposes that’s a fairly normal thing to feel. So, would he be upset if he knew Yuuji was getting to watch him sleep right now?
Or would he be just as upset if Yuuji woke him up? Maybe he isn’t able to get much sleep anymore. Maybe, Yuuji would rip away his one opportunity to get some quick rest just because he didn’t know what else to do. How upset could one possibly get just from being woken up?
A part of Yuuji wonders if Gojo-sensei is even asleep at all. It’d be just like him to act like he’s asleep just to mess with Yuuji. For what reason, Yuuji doesn’t know. Gojo just has a thing with Yuuji and his reactions sometimes.
Another minute passes, though, and Gojo is as asleep as ever, no jumping awake to scare Yuuji or teasing him for staring so long in sight.
Yuuji continues to watch him, that low, sweeping feeling settling uncomfortably in the bottom of his stomach. He’s come to associate the sensation solely with Gojo-sensei, even though he’s never been quite sure what it means.
At first, he sometimes thought that it was fear, or admiration. Yuuji didn’t know; he never really let himself think about it too long anyway, far too busy training.
Now, though, as he watches the slow rise and fall of Gojo’s chest, even more proof that he’s just as human as everyone else, Yuuji can’t look away.
It feels… it feels….
It feels overwhelming. It feels simple.
Ah, he thinks. So that’s what it means.
Yuuji reaches out, not even fully aware that he was until his fingers are lightly brushing the edge of Gojo’s blindfold. Yuuji wants to see the way his eyelashes rest on closed eyelids. Yuuji wants—
He tugs, loosening it, and it falls, catching on Gojo’s upturned nose.
Gojo’s eyes are open, wide, and looking straight back at him. Yuuji flushes, pulling back immediately, his stomach turning as he glances down at his hands.
“A-ah, Sensei, sorry! I didn’t… ah… I just haven’t seen you sleep before so I was curious, I guess….” Yuuji berates himself immediately for not even being able to speak properly before he realizes something else. He looks back up at Gojo, whose eyes are still on Yuuji, so very blue that Yuuji’s breath catches. He swallows. “Ah, were you awake that entire time, Sensei? You did all that just to tease me, huh?”
At that, Gojo’s eyes scrunch a bit, and he laughs, reaching out to ruffle Yuuji’s hair.
“Imagine my surprise waking up to see my adorable student trying to sneak a peek at his handsome teacher’s face!” His expression shifts into something perfectly guileless. “Who knew my student could be so bold….”
Yuuji feels his face warm and Gojo laughs at him again.
“That’s not… I mean, I wasn’t trying to—”
Gojo’s hand hasn’t left Yuuji’s hair, Yuuji realizes when Gojo presses down, basically gripping and then tugging at the strands. “It’s okay, Yuuji. Don’t worry about it.” Yuuji relaxes. “I would have done the same thing if my teacher had looked as good as I do. Unfortunately, mine was Yaga and he’s not much to fantasize—”
“Sensei!”
The second time Yuuji sees Gojo-sensei sleep is a recognition.
They’re both tired. With the news, or lack thereof, about Mechamaru and the Patchwork Curse, there’s been a heaviness in the air that everyone can’t help but bear the burden of.
Yuuji, whose body was exhausted beyond belief after training with Maki, wanted nothing more than to sleep in the comfort of his own bed for as long as he possibly could.
Except when he opens the door to his room, Gojo-sensei is already in it, sleeping on the very bed Yuuji’s been dreaming about for the past five minutes, long body sprawled out languidly on top of his covers. At least he had the decency to take off his shoes.
He stands there in his door staring for a good ten seconds, determining whether Gojo was actually asleep or not, but when his teacher gives no indication of having heard Yuuji enter, Yuuji realizes that, again, Gojo has let his guard down for Yuuji.
It’s an interesting sort of feeling, his stomach turning in that same way it does when Gojo catches Yuuji staring at him or when Gojo’s hands make their way somewhere on Yuuji’s body, always settling so comfortably, as if Yuuji’s very existence was made for Gojo. Maybe it should be awful, how comforting that thought is, but instead it’s a revelation. Instead, it’s exhilaration.
He swallows, his uniform suddenly feeling so very tight.
Yuuji knows that as soon as he moves, his teacher will wake. A part of him wants it—wants to see what Gojo says, how he reacts, the minute changes in his expression when he realizes Yuuji’s caught him sleeping in his bed. Yuuji could even tease him for it, although he doubts Gojo would care enough to feel any kind of embarrassment. Sometimes Yuuji’s convinced the man doesn’t even know what the word “embarrassed” means.
Yuuji doesn’t move. He stands there and he waits and he watches the slow rise and fall of Gojo’s chest and he lets the feeling in his stomach eat him from inside out. He thinks the teeth in his stomach probably look like Gojo’s false smile, the one he gives when he’s being overly sweet just to annoy others.
Or maybe they look like the smile Gojo gives to Yuuji—real and bright, as if every time he’s around Yuuji he’s able to be himself completely.
It’s a delusional and yet simple thought, Yuuji knows, but he’s never been one for overcomplicating things.
Finally, he takes a step forward, just to stop feeling like his chest is about to cave in, and Yuuji’s proven right immediately.
Gojo-sensei wakes all at once, but lazily, like a cat unwillingly being disturbed by its owner. Yuuji can’t see his eyes, but he knows they’re directed at him, and Yuuji takes another step forward, slowly, as if Gojo would bolt if he moved any quicker. It’s a strange sensation—feeling this kind of power just from seeing the strongest sorcerer alive in his bed, quiet and almost subdued.
When he finds himself just at the end of his bed, he sees Gojo-sensei relax. He hadn’t even been aware of how tense it was before.
“You know,” Yuuji starts, “my grandfather always told me not to take in strays. He said they can be a hassle to take care of because they can get needy.”
Gojo’s lips quirk, small and knowing.
“Oh? And do you think I’m being needy, Yuuji?” He exaggerates the syllables in Yuuji’s name as he says it and Yuuji just laughs, sitting down at the foot of his bed, still so exhausted he feels like he could pass out on the spot.
Letting out a small groan as he does, Yuuji stretches his arms up and settles into his own body. Sukuna has been bored this past hour and throwing casual expletives or ideas about all the awful things he wants to do to everyone Yuuji loves, and it’s made Yuuji’s body feel tight with agitation. He wants to sleep.
“Nah,” Yuuji finally replies after he finishes, leaning back so his arms are supporting him, palms pressed against the firmness of his bed. If he leaned back a little more, he could lie his head on Gojo’s legs. He knows he’d let Yuuji do it, too. Yuuji yawns instead. “If anything, I’m the stray, aren’t I? You even gave me a room and everything. And a bed. Even if you are currently stealing it.”
“Hmm, but what if I like Yuuji’s bed and don’t want to give it back? I’m quite attached to it because of its owner. Isn’t that a classic example of strays getting attached too quickly?”
Yuuji wants to see the blue of his eyes. He wants to feel the warmth of his skin under his hand. He always wants so much when it comes to Gojo. Yuuji really needs to go to sleep.
“Are you saying you got too attached to me?” is all Yuuji can manage to reply, his brain finally catching up with what Gojo’s said instead of just helplessly pining for his teacher. His own eyes momentarily close after he asks it before he forces them open again.
Then, all at once, Gojo is moving, swift and abrupt, the bed creaking as he does, until he’s standing in front of Yuuji and looking down at him. Yuuji just tilts his head up to look back. He wonders if Gojo always sleeps with his blindfold, or if he’s only seen it because Gojo didn’t mean to fall asleep. Why was Gojo-sensei even in his room to begin with…?
Gojo reaches out, pushing at Yuuji, and Yuuji loses grip of the bed beneath him and falls, his arms resting a bit uncomfortably at his sides. Yawning again, Yuuji manages to scoot himself up the bed until his face reaches one of his pillows, his eyes already closed. He thinks he hears Gojo laugh at him, but that’s not anything new.
“Sleep well, Yuuji~ We can talk later.”
Yuuji isn’t awake long enough to even hear him leave.
Yuuji wonders if Gojo-sensei sleeps in the Prison Realm.
If he does sleep, even sealed, then, maybe, when Gojo is free from it, he could convince Yuuji that this was all just a bad nightmare.
Turns out Yuuji was the stray all along.
The third time Yuuji sees Gojo-sensei sleep is a redemption.
Gojo looks the exact same when he’s unsealed, but wholly and completely different at the same time. He tells the man as much when he’s pressed against him, his arms wrapped around Gojo’s back, holding on and on and on; Yuuji can’t believe he ever let himself hold back before.
He feels the hum in Gojo’s chest at his observation, and he feels the way Gojo’s arms move across his body, as if he’s experiencing the wonders of touch for the very first time, and he feels one of Gojo’s hands settle in his hair, holding on and on and on.
“I think you just see things differently now, Yuuji,” he had said, and Yuuji knew he was right. In what world could he see things the same? In what world could he have fallen in love with Gojo and accept the fact that staying quiet was enough?
Yuuji has changed; though, he doesn’t believe for the better.
Eventually, Yuuji unlatches himself, Gojo seeming just as unwilling to let him go, though, if the way he relaxes his entire body against his is any indication. He gets settled in quickly, being caught up to speed as if their world hasn’t completely changed, and Gojo’s eyes—ah, Yuuji can see his eyes again, he’s just now realized, and—are wide and focused, a slightly manic energy to them as he takes in everything.
Gojo-sensei spends that first night completely alone, secluding himself in his room, and Yuuji lies awake in his bed and realizes that Gojo is unsealed, that he’s back and will promise to save them all, and that he’s sleeping alone right now.
But who is Yuuji in the grand scheme of things? What can he do for the strongest sorcerer he’s ever met? What would Gojo say when he realizes the things Yuuji has done? The things he’s let happen because of his own lack of strength and because of his own body.
What can Yuuji do except be glad Gojo-sensei can finally sleep again, even if it’s never in front of Yuuji again?
A week passes and Yuuji exists and trains. Gojo is handling a great number of things, it seems, but he still manages to spend several hours of every day with Yuuji, following him around or commenting on one of his training lessons with Choso or pulling him away to eat lunch together. It’s strange how similar it is to their dynamic pre-everything and every time, Yuuji wants to say something about it, ask if Gojo is just faking the casualness and ease for him, but Yuuji doesn’t want Gojo to stop either, so he lets it all happen and never says a word about it.
Yuuji has lost too many people; he isn’t going to lose Gojo-sensei, too.
Still—Yuuji grieves and wilts and spites, the chasm that had opened in his chest over the past few weeks never filling up completely, never healing itself, never allowing for Yuuji to revel in the feeling that used to make up his chest and heart, especially when he was around Gojo.
Until, Gojo doesn’t let him go one night, Yuuji’s bruised body exhausted and tucked away into the harsh curve of Gojo’s, leading them to Gojo’s solitary, lone room where Gojo’s slept completely alone since he’s been unsealed.
“Yuuji,” Gojo says, and Yuuji yawns, moving his head so his face is pressed into Gojo’s upper chest, just underneath his shoulder. He shuts his eyes tight and prays this isn’t a dream. “Yuuji,” Gojo says again, and that’s already a lot, and, then, Gojo is yawning, a surprising sound that makes Yuuji finally pull back and look up at him.
Gojo hasn’t worn his blindfold since he’s been unsealed, claiming that he couldn’t risk any limitations on his eyes. Yuuji supposes that must be exhausting, but he can’t help but feel relieved nonetheless. Gojo’s also been careful about having his Infinity activated at all times, but it hardly affects Yuuji, who never once encounters the barrier. He briefly wonders why, and he thinks Gojo wouldn’t allow for it if he knew all that happened, but Yuuji doesn’t want to lose that either.
“Let’s go to sleep, Yuuji.”
Gojo walks them towards his bed, gently pulling Yuuji to sit down beside him, and they remove their outer winter clothes and shoes, both having just come from training outside, and Yuuji feels Gojo guide him to lie beside him on the bed.
He hears another yawn, but he isn’t sure who it’s from. He knows, though, that Gojo extends his arm around Yuuji and pulls him in close, holding on and on and on, one of his palms splaying out completely on Yuuji’s back, a hot brand against his shirt. Yuuji sighs at the feeling; he refuses to fall asleep first, wanting to live in this dream a bit longer.
“You can sleep, Yuuji,” mumbles Gojo, voice soft and amused. “Unless you don’t trust me?”
It’s obvious bait for a denial, Gojo probably expecting Yuuji to defend his honor, but Yuuji has lost nearly everyone he’s loved, barring the man holding him close now, and he knows denying it would just be following the script they once had.
“Did you sleep at all? In the Prison Realm?” Yuuji asks instead, swallowing as he does. Gojo blinks at him, mouth flattening, just barely.
“I did. For a bit. Not sure how long, of course. What with the lack of measurable time and all that.”
Yuuji moves even closer to Gojo; Gojo lets him, tangling their legs together. It’s horribly intimate, so intimate that Yuuji could convince himself it means something else. He’ll ask Gojo about it soon, he decides. Right now….
“What do you dream about?”
“In the Prison Realm or in general?”
Yuuji shrugs. “I don’t know. Both. Last night. What do you dream about?”
“Sweet things.”
Yuuji laughs, startled. Gojo smiles at him, obviously pleased. “What, like cakes and candies? You’re so predictable, Gojo-sensei.”
“And you, too, of course,” Gojo replies, his smile all teeth now. Yuuji’s mouth feels so dry.
“Me? You dream about me, Sensei?”
“Of course I did. I do. And… I dream about everyone, I guess. Megumi and Nanami. Old friends… regrets and what-ifs… they’re just dreams, though. They can’t do anything.” Gojo brings one of his hands up, lightly tracing at Yuuji’s scar. Yuuji is being burned alive by every movement. “What about you, Yuuji? What do you dream about?”
Yuuji shakes his head, pressing into Gojo’s hand a bit as he does. “I don’t dream anymore. I… I guess I used to have nightmares, briefly, when I was just with Choso, but now I don’t think I sleep long enough to even get the chance.”
“Well, why don’t you go to sleep now, then? Or is this a new form of masochism, hmm? You think you deserve that just because a crazy murderer took control of your body?”
Yuuji stills. “You know about it?”
“Of course I know about it, Yuuji. And do you know how little that changes my perception of you?”
“So, what did it change?”
Gojo’s hand moves to his forehead, pushing back his hair. “It just makes me think you’re even better than I thought you were. I admire you every day, Yuuji.” Yuuji feels every beat of his heart. “So, go to sleep, alright?”
“No, it’s just….” Yuuji’s lips quirk up, despite the way Gojo just nonchalantly ripped him open. “I want to keep looking at you. If I go to sleep, I don’t get to see you anymore. I want to see you fall asleep. I… I missed it.”
Gojo blinks again at the admission, his eyelashes fluttering in some kind of dramatic shoujo-lead way, and Yuuji’s tired enough that the thought makes him smile even wider. Yuuji even sees his cheeks flush a bit. It’s cute.
“Wowww, you want to watch your sensei fall asleep, Yuuji? So that’s what you’re into? You should’ve told me sooner, I would have—”
Yuuji kisses him.
Gojo’s lips are soft, but dry from the winter air, and Yuuji thinks the chasm inside him will break him open, but then Gojo’s hand lingers on the nape of his neck, pressing down with every gasp Yuuji makes, and Yuuji hasn’t been able to sleep in weeks and weeks and he understands now that it’s because he needed to know the exact taste of Gojo’s breath in his own mouth before he could.
He presses in even closer, as close as he can possibly be, and once again, Gojo lets him, his fingers pressing down hard against Yuuji’s neck, the nails a sharp pain that makes Yuuji’s entire body shake. Gojo’s tongue licks Yuuji’s lower lip and Yuuji gasps again, Gojo catching the sound by making his own, a soft moan that drives Yuuji crazy.
And then Yuuji yawns in the middle of the kiss. Gojo immediately cracks up, even though he’s fighting his own yawn as he does.
Yuuji rolls his eyes, laughing too, and he wants to complain or insist they can keep going, but Gojo is holding him and not letting go and that’s all he really wants anyway. So, for now, he just nestles himself under Gojo’s chin, his lips just slightly brushing Gojo’s neck, and he sighs.
“I’ll watch you fall asleep first next time, just watch, Sensei” he mutters. He feels Gojo’s laugh more than he hears it.
“Have I told you before that it’s quite difficult for me to sleep with others?” replies Gojo. His arms around Yuuji tighten, an obvious claim. “But you’ve always been different, haven’t you?”
Yuuji swears the chasm in him distorts—back into that same feeling he’s had for months and months and months. It feels a bit stronger now, though. The guilt and the grief and the spite is still there, but there’s that something else, too.
That something else that’s always been the very core of Yuuji’s being, no matter how deeply it was buried away these past weeks.
In the end, Yuuji’s breaths even out in time with Gojo’s, legs tangled, skin still heated and claimed, and they both fall asleep at the same time.
Neither of them dream.
It’s a relief.