Under the Overpass ~ SatoSugu

Chapter 10

"Should we kill them all? I doubt I'd feel a thing right now."
His moral compass spun, waiting for the iron in Geto's voice to stabilize it in the direction he'd take. He entrusted the decision to him and would have gone either way from the state he was in. The cold body under the cloth grew heavier in the silence surrounding the anticipated answer. The insipid clapping didn't matter.

"No. There's no reason to that." Geto answered, solemnly. The fluorescent lights put a weird glow into the eyes of a god. His mind kept flashing back to the echoing sound of the gunshot and the look of Gojo now, in such a delirious, far-gone state made his stomach twist. Seeing him carrying the corpse of a friend was nauseating.

The clapping began to drill itself into their minds, infesting them. They both grew a new sense of determination. An ache to get stronger, to avoid unnecessary death like that ever again.

Shoko had flown out on a red-eye flight to tend to them both, shocked at the state they, but especially Geto, had been in upon her arrival. She knew something was truly wrong when he hugged her.

They all flew back on a triple seat and it's then that she noticed them. Their hands interlaced from the moment of takeoff and Gojo, still exhausted, leaned against the crook of Geto's neck, sleeping for the whole flight, and not saying a word, which was also very uncharacteristic.

"Fucking finally." She whispered to Geto, snapping photos on her crappy flip phone from any angle she could get.

"I love him," he whispered to her with certainty in his voice, and her eyes widened. She could tell he was tired too, but his voice was truthful and she believed it easily. As the flight continued, he rested his head on her, sleeping as well.

But time carried on, as did the weight of their struggles in grief.

After her passing, they didn't separate much at all. Nights brought terrors and being woken by unconscious tears came for them both. When dusk set across the sky, it helped to be with someone and have even just that warmth nearby.

Yaga seemed understanding, and took multiple blunts from those up above who exploited them, to get time for proper rest. They put the time to good use, the best use they could in growing stronger. Again having to regain stamina and deal with healing scars both physical and mental.

What Gojo had said in that cultist room stuck with Geto. Was what they did even worth it? He tried to push those questions aside, but their smug smiles and faces, they haunted him.

"Suguru!" Gojo skipped toward him, swinging a plastic bag. It was a gloomy day, rain coming and going off and on, and yet there was the sun shining right in front of him. Geto waited for him under an overhanging.

"Why do you carry an umbrella? You can just repel the water, can't you?" He inspected Gojo, who had not one drop of water on him.
Gojo lifted the clear plastic a bit higher, and Geto took the bag so he could click the umbrella open, "So that you don't get wet, duh."

They walked, one enjoying a bag of seaweed-dusted chips and one enjoying fruit gummies respectively.

The sun parted from the clouds, deep orange in the late sky, and turned the air into a soupy humid. Understandably, the couple retreated to Geto's dorm for the night, sneakily. Though no one cared. It was Geto's dorm that they chose, as Gojo's was a right mess of magazines, snacks, and clothes in need of sorting.