Ataraxia 平静 | Gojo Satoru

-'๑'-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑𝟗-'๑'-

I brushed my hands against the soft fabric of my sweater, my nerves tingling more intensely than when dawn had broken.

It was Christmas Day.

My friends had vanished with the early morning light—Shoko summoned to the infirmary, while Suguru and Yuta were orchestrating the forthcoming 'kidnapping.'

The lobby echoed with the fierce howl of wind and the patter of snow against the windows, a fitting backdrop to my restless pacing. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, my teeth gnawing at my cheek.

Maybe this had been a stupid idea after all.

Yesterday's attempt to clear both Gojo's and my schedules should have set off warning bells. It had unfolded just as I'd dreaded: grins wide with mischief, teasing scolding, and a barrage of probing questions. I remained tight-lipped, though, bolting as soon as I received the confirmation I needed.

Perhaps Gojo wasn't even here. Maybe I could just turn back.

"Why so restless, little human? Your thoughts are giving me a headache," grumbled the all-too-familiar voice in the recesses of my mind.

I released a strained sigh. "Why don't you try staying out of my thoughts for a change?"

Silence fell, heavy and brief. "I would if I could, but your mind is so loud."

I willed myself to ignore him. Ignore him ignore him ignore him—

"I can hear that, too."

"Could you just—" My voice broke off against the silence, hands balling into fists. "Stop talking," I finished with more composure than I felt.

A distant scoff echoed in my mind, and I wondered if I had imagined it.

Another tense minute slipped by as I stood before Gojo's door, mentally rehearsing the speech I'd crafted since morning. He had to be inside. I stole another glance at my wristwatch; it was well past noon. Soon. He had to come out soon—

"Just knock," the man's voice intruded, sounding increasingly impatient.

I rubbed my face in frustration. "For fuck's sake, Ghost, give it a rest."

Footsteps echoed from the stairwell, a not-so-subtle reminder to keep it together. I preferred to avoid the embarrassment of being caught conversing with myself in an empty hallway.

"Your vocabulary is foul," he scolded. "And I distinctly recall asking you not to call me that."

An exasperated sigh escaped me. Since encountering his human form on the Solstice evening, he had invaded my dreams more frequently, appearing as both dragon and man. Strangely, I found it relatively easy to adjust, except for one minor detail—he always had something to say.

"You never bothered to tell me your name," I pinched the bridge of my nose, frustration mounting.

"That was hardly an open invitation for you to get creative with mundane nicknames."

My patience was wearing thinner than rice paper.

"Whatever," I clicked my tongue. "Just zip it. I'm not in the mood to be labeled as the loony girl chatting with thin air, especially with you incessantly popping into my thoughts."

A flash of heat surged through my ribcage, a clear sign of his irritation.

"You don't have to speak aloud; thinking it would suffice—"

"Alright! Noted! Now I beg you—" I began to hiss louder, only to clamp my mouth shut as Gojo's door swung open.

There he stood, regarding me with a raised brow.