The Strongest | ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ

Chapter 18

Hours pass without me noticing it. They slip through my fingers like sand and blow away in the evening breeze. By the time a man in a suit comes to ask us to exit the dining room so they can clean up, it's not even evening anymore. It's ten minutes after eleven. Night.

Gojo and I get up, and I bend down a little to smooth out my dress. When I stand up straight, he quickly looks away, making me grin. Idiot. We leave the dining room, and as we stand in the hallway, someone closing the doors behind us, we look at each other. I can tell that Gojo is thinking the same thing as me: we can't go to bed yet.

"There's a bar upstairs," he says, and I nod, remembering the glass of lemonade he had on Thursday. Gojo holds his arm out for me to take it. "Would you like to join me?"

I damn my face for blushing so easily, but I hook my arm into his and roll my eyes, trying to make him believe that he's still annoying me. He kind of is, to be honest, but I don't mind it that much anymore. Maybe I've just loosened up. Maybe it's because of the talk we just had, or because of the time we spent here together. Maybe it's because we both realize that we're not so different and that we both just want -

"When do you want to leave tomorrow?" Gojo asks me before I can finish my thought, making me grunt a little.

I don't look up at him when I reply, "I don't know. I haven't thought about leaving yet." And it's the truth. I've thought about tomorrow, but I haven't thought about leaving. My heart keeps pounding in the same rhythm as a mockingbird flapping its wings. It's too fast, and I can't explain why.

"What are you saying?" Gojo asks as he guids us into the bar room.

There are a few people in here, mostly men, and mostly older than us. They sit in black leather armchairs and look up at us when we enter. Unbothered, they turn back to their conversations and keep sipping at their dark liquor. Gojo and I take a seat at the bar, the bartender giving us a smile as he cleans a glass with a towel.

"I don't know," I reply to his question. "I just..." But there's nothing for me to say. I have no idea what to tell him.

And I don't have to because the bartender comes over and asks what we'd like to drink.

"I'll have a..." Gojo glances at the bottles displayed behind the bartender. Cheap liquor on the lower shelves, expensive liquor on the higher ones. "A scotch on the rocks for me and a vodka martini for the lady."

He surprises me yet again by knowing my drink order. Maybe it was a lucky guess, or maybe Shoko told him even that, but either way, the fact that he knows... I raise my eyebrows at him, and when he gives me a wicked grin, I roll my eyes and chuckle.

"Shocked?" Gojo asks, referring to my drink.

"Not at all," I answer.

"So. You don't want to go back tomorrow?" he asks.

I shrug. "Well, I don't know. I do. Kind of. Don't you?"

It doesn't take him a single second of hesitation to shake his head. "No. No, I don't."

My brow furrows. I'm reminding myself not to blush because, in fact, I don't know what he means by that. So I ask, "You don't want to go back?"

Gojo shakes his head again. "No." He doesn't elaborate on that as the bartender slides us our drinks. Gojo picks up his glass and lifts it to a toast.

My companion and I look at each other even as we sip at our drinks. I'm glad he's still wearing the sunglasses because even though I'm less drunk tonight, I'm in a way better mood than yesterday. Who knows what I might do if his eyes were out on full display and this weird tension between us would last.

Even though I wonder why he doesn't want to go back, I don't ask. He's probably just enjoying getting away from all the responsibilities. I never really thought about it, but sometimes he's gone for days on end. Why did I never consider that Gojo must be a really busy guy? He's the strongest. When sorcerers have a situation they can't handle, he's sent to help. I do my job, I do what I'm told and I do it well, but Gojo... He does everything. He's the ass for everything. He takes so much responsibility on his own shoulders, and sometimes I think he crumbles a little from the pressure he's being put under by the elders. That's probably why he's such an upbeat and loud personality. Because what else is he gonna do?

Oh my God, I feel like an asshole. I judged him by my own margins, saw his world through my eyes, and never even considered seeing it with his eyes. I sink my head into my hand and hide my eyes behind my palm. There's no wonder he's so amused by bothering me - because I respond differently than the elders, even encourage a confrontation sometimes.

"What's wrong?" Gojo asks. "Are you okay?"

I look up at him and force myself to nod, but the movement seems so insincere that I shake my head immediately after. "I've been a real bitch to you, haven't I?"

A smile breaks out on his face, and it's so familiar that it's almost painful. He's beautiful. "Well, I deserve it." He shrugs. "I've been an ass to you, too."

I snort. "Yeah. You have."

The man raises his glass again. "To Yaga proving us wrong," he says, and we toast with wide grins.

We sit for a while and laugh and drink and talk and actually have kind of a nice time. The hours feel too short, and when we both agree on finally going to bed, it's half past one. Gojo grunts and slides his phone into his back pocket. Oh, those pants. I would love to just... grab him. Even though both of us are standing on different sides of the elevator, two steps apart, the air in here feels too sticky as we ride up. The third floor is familiar by now, and so is the dim light above our heads. Same light, different day.

"So," I say as we get to my door. "What do we do about tomorrow?"

One corner of Gojo's lips twitches upward. "Breakfast at nine?" he asks, and I nod. "And I guess then we'll... walk back."

I swallow. "Is that what you want?"

The hallway is so silent. Same silence, different day. Gojo looks down at me, and his smile turns sad again. I found out that I hate his sad smile way more than I hate his cocky grin. Why is he sad?

"That was the deal," he says, his voice sounding rueful.

Right. The deal. We go back on Monday. That's what our boss told us to. Our boss, who put us into this hotel in the first place, who wanted us to get along, not knowing what it would cost us.

I nod just ever so slightly. How do I tell him I don't want to go back? I can't come up with sentences, not even single words. Gojo just stands there, irritatingly close to me, looking at me, and it's robbing me of all my senses. Air seems to be in short supply, and I'm starting to get warm.