The rumors about your somewhat different relationship with Satoru continued to circulate, but as time went on, they slowly lost relevance. Eventually, the unsettling side-eyes from other students stopped. And soon nobody noticed you anyhow. It seemed that the ever-evolving world of jujutsu sorcerers always had new scandals to focus on.
The weeks passed. But Satoru was still gone. He was suspended for nearly killing a student. But you didn't find it so bad, it was a welcome relief.
It allowed you to focus on your training.
No, focus is not the right word—drowning yourself in training—torturing yourself with training.
But it certainly paid off.
****
One down. Then another. And another.
It was combat day again. Over the past few months, you had become the new center of attention on these days. Unbeaten since the day Jack had attacked you, and determined to keep it that way. Your progress had been astonishing, surprising even yourself with what your anger had helped you to achieve. Thanks to Satoru.
"She's mowing them down!" Yuji chuckled from the sidelines.
"I bet she's imagining each one of them as Gojo—exactly what I'd do if I were her." Nobara said with a smirk on her lips.
Your muscles start to protest. They always do. But you didn't care. They were at your command.
"Next," you called out, fixing your gaze on a waiting student on the sidelines. Your heart pounded with anticipation.
The students wasted no time and lunged at you. He tried to trip you with a quick, low sweep. You leaped back just in time, narrowly avoiding his attack. You struck out, aiming for his torso. He parried each of your blows. He was strong in his defense. They all were. But you just had to be faster.
A fierce combo attack followed, punches and kicks flying in rapid succession. The first strikes blocked, but you quickened the pace. Then they landed, with a lethal impact you struggled to temper.
Enough of this play.
With a final spinning hook kick to the jaw, he staggered and fell. The crowd held its breath, then erupted in cheers.
You were victorious, but utterly drained.
You fought for each breath, vision blurring at the edges. Sweat ran down your temple. Your body ached, every muscles screaming in agony. The crowd's cheers faded into a distant hum. You had pushed beyond your breaking point. Yet, you refused to admit that you were at your limit.
"Guess your classmates aren't providing enough of a challenge, huh?"
This can't be real.
You turned to meet his gaze—the gaze of Satoru Gojo, who approached you with a nonchalance that made you forget any fatigue you had felt just seconds ago. He looked taller, older, more muscular than you remembered.
"What's his deal?" Nobara asked Megumi quietly, knowing full well that the rumors about your relationship with Satoru were still alive. Megumi tensed. But he waited.
"Need another opponent?" Satoru's voice cut through the tension.His eyes, peering over the top of his sunglasses, bore into yours, boldly challenging you.
He really had the audacity to disappear for months and then return to challenge you.
Your fists clench in anger.
So be it then.
You turned, tightening the bands around your wrists. Satoru closed the distance, standing before you. Tension gripped the air.
"No cursed energy. No Infinity," Satoru declared, his eyes tracing your form, causing an unsettling sensation in you.
"Don't need cursed energy to knock you down."
"Is that so?" Satoru replied with a grin that danced on the edge of mockery.
Without warning, Satoru lunged forward. His fist shot towards you with incredible speed. You twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike. The force of his blow sent a gust of wind through your hair. You countered swiftly, a quick jab aimed at his midsection. Satoru blocked the attack with ease, his forearm absorbing the impact effortlessly.
His grin widened. "You've become stronger."
Yeah, thanks to you fucker.
The exchange intensified, punches and kicks exchanged at lightning speed. You dodged and weaved, avoiding Satoru's blows and responding with calculated moves of your own. Your muscles ached. You struggled to breathe. But you couldn't afford to give in, not against him.
"You have reached your limit," Satoru said between strikes.
"You don't know my limits," you shot back, countering with a fierce blow of your own.
"Your stubbornness will kill you one day," he spat.
You ducked low to the ground, narrowly evading a menacing blow that had the potential to knock you out cold in a single strike. He was serious.
"You came all the way back just to give me some friendly advice?"
Your body screamed in rebellion against the exhaustion, muscles burning as Satoru's relentless assault forced you into a defensive stance.
"Listen, just because we can't—" His head snapped to the side, narrowly dodging a quick, rage-fueled fist that slammed into the wall where his face had been seconds before. His eyes widened for a moment. You couldn't help but grin at him. A collective gasp cut through the area.
"I don't want to see you dead."
"Trust me, I got this," you said before pulling your fist back, ready to unleash the next punch.
"You're acting like you're tempting fate," Satoru shot back, his attacks quickly pushing you back again. His hand shot forward to seize your leg mid-kick, freezing it in its trajectory towards his midsection. "—pushing your luck."
The audacity this man had.
Fury blazed within you. Gasping for breath, you gathered your remaining strength and unleashed a violent blow that sent Satoru staggering back.
"Ever thought of just saying you got your ass handed to you by a girl?"
A shadow flickered across Satoru's features. "You don't want to learn, do you?"
Before you had a chance to spit out a reply, he closed the gap between you. With lightning speed, he launched himself into a swift, low sweep, his leg slicing through the air like a blade. Your back hit the ground with a thud, and in an instant his form bore you down, immobilizing you with his sheer strength.
He hovered over you, pinning your wrists above your head into the unforgiving ground. Any resistance you mustered was crushed under his overwhelming force.
"Get off me, Satoru!"
"You've gotta learn to control that anger."
MY ANGER IS TOTALY FINE.
Your ribs heaved with each strained breath, sweat running through the dirt smeared across your face. Exhaustion bit at your muscles, growling loudly at your stubborn resilience, but surrender wasn't in your vocabulary.
"I don't need your lectures," you snapped, "—I don't need you."
Satoru's weight pressed down on you, a sensation all too familiar yet laced with a bitter kind of nostalgia. His grip was tight on your wrists. His jaw twitching in a rigid clench.
"Let me go!"
You locked eyes with him again. Even behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses, you could see his pained expression. What was on his mind? Why was he back? What did he want? Damn it, why did he still have power over you?
He hesitated for a moment and then released his grip, allowing you to sit up as Nobara rushed to your side.
"You okay? Your wrists—they good?"
Her hands gently touched your skin, fingers brushing over joints still bearing the scars of a recent close call with a curse's malevolence. Even with the searing pain coursing through your wrists, it was Satoru who captured your attention.
In his eyes, a flash of realization dawned. He was always so sharp. Yet he had not noticed that your wrists were broken. He quickly looked away.
"I'm fine," you said.
Satoru turned and made his way to the exit, each step thudding with a heavy finality through the silence of the training ground. You watched his back as he walked away. Your heart flickered, torn between rage and longing.
****
Memories rushed through your mind. His words echoed relentlessly in your mind—haunting you.
Your confidence will kill you one day.
Just like the day you first meet.
The moon cast a soft, silvery glow over the quiet city. You sat alone on the roof of the school building, your sore wrists pulsating painfully. You absently rubbed them in circular motions as his words lingered hauntingly in your mind. A cool whisper of the night breeze rustled through your hair. Your eyes, lost in the urban scene below, flinched as footsteps approached.
No need to turn and check—it was Satoru. His unique aura always gave him away.
"You really shouldn't be here," you said.
Just leave.
Nevertheless, he settled down quietly beside you. You both gazed out over the city. Neither of you spoke. His proximity was both a comfort and a pain.
"I should have been more careful," he said after a while.
"I'm not fragile, Satoru."
"I know you're not," he hesitated. "But you've gone beyond your limits."
You turned to him, your gaze meeting his. "Don't act like you care about me."
"All I do is care about you."
You turned away, unable to hold his pained gaze that hung heavily upon you.
"If you continue to push your limits like this," he continued, "you will be injured even beyond Shoko's ability to heal you."
Were his words meant to show concern? Worry? Because all they really did was sound like an accusation, that you weren't aware of what you were doing. That you were weak and should give up. Your wrists began to hurt again. You gripped them tightly, the pressure you put on yourself more painful than the injury itself.
"Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"You know why—," he whispered.
"No, I really don't," you countered. "You don't get to break my heart and act like nothing happened."
"I know."
"Then why the hell are you doing it anyway?"
Why?
Why leave only to come back and hurt you again?
A bitter wind swept across the rooftop, and you shivered involuntarily. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you made a futile attempt to ward off the cold. Satoru removed his jacket, the black fabric slipping off his shoulders.
"I don't want your jacket, Satoru," you said.
Ignoring your objections, Satoru draped the jacket over your shoulders. You tensed as his hands touched your skin, a sensation that had been far too familiar. But now, it felt cruel.
You hated that you needed the jacket, even more so that it was him offering it.
****
Suddenly, a faint rumble echoed in the distance, shattering the night's silence. Your pulse quickened, your eyes widened. The air seemed to vibrate.
"What the hell is that?" Your words tumbled out, eyes darting in a frenzied search for the origin of the terrifying noise.
The rooftop buckled beneath you with an abrupt, violent quiver, while the night sky was swallowed by an abyssal black. A symphony of suffering—twisted screams and unhinged laughter—curdled in the air, revealing the monstrous reality.
Curses.
Glass exploded into shivering shards, concrete splintered, and a vile, malevolent stench permeated the air. Amidst the chaos, Satoru's piercing gaze locked onto yours, a wordless communication flashing between you.
"Stay."
"I won't!" you shot back, shoving off his jacket from your shoulders. You weren't going to be the one who just stood and watched. Not again.
"I need you to stay safe." His approach was hesitant, a half-step, then a sudden stop, as if remembering you two weren't like that anymore, all thanks to him.
In a split second, he was a blur, hurtling himself into the chaos, leaving you rooted, heart pounding against your chest and hands balled up in fury. Time stretched, transforming seconds into an agonizing eternity. Taking a deep breath, you tightened your grip on his jacket and, with a newfound determination, raced to the ledge of the rooftop. Leaping into the abyss, you descended into the chaos below on the training grounds.
Your boots slammed against the earth, the impact echoing through the night, as you heard someone call your name.
"Megumi?" Twisting around, you found your dark-haired teammate, his face strained with urgency.
"What the hell is going on?" You shouted through the chaos as he drew near.
"Curses, they're everywhere in the school," Megumi panted, his voice barely piercing through the tumult.
"How'd this even happen?"
"Wish I knew," his eyes dart around, ever-watchful for lurking threats amidst the pandemonium.
The atmosphere gives a creepy shiver of malevolence, and suddenly, a curse materializes before you, an ugly storm of maliciousness, eyes ablaze with malevolent hunger. With zero hesitations, it hurtled towards you, a blinding, lethal trajectory.
Megumi conjured his cursed energy, quares up, ready to strike back. The curse unexpectedly lashed out again, but Megumi parried, showcasing a vigor and prowess that left you astonished, his capabilities blossoming beyond recognition. You'd become powerful, yet so had your allies. Witnessing Megumi in combat was testament.
"We gotta find Yuji and Nobara!" he orders, as just a sudden eruption of luminous blue light split the darkness overhead.
Satoru.
"We need to go now!"
"No, we need to protect the school!"
But an unmistakable urge drives you towards Satoru, every fiber of your being vibrating with an unspoken need to be near him.
"We can't just leave Satoru out there by himself!" Your voice shakes, urgency threading through your words, your eyes locked with Megumi's. Indecision flickers across his face.
"I can't just—"
A familiar red blaze cleaves through the darkness, cutting off your words. It wasn't fair to abandon Megumi, but the pull towards Satoru was irresistible. It was ridiculous to think that Satoru needed help. He doesn't need anyone, he made that clear, yet your heart wailed, pushing you forward, ignoring Megumi's protests trying to stop you.
"Wait!" His shout got drowned out by another erupting curse, a vile barrier thwarting any chase.
You didn't hesitate, launching yourself toward that alluring glow in the darkness, where a chaos-soaked battlefield awaited. Sorcerers and curses clashed in a grotesque dance of doom, their monstrous and venomous forms swirling around, trapping you in a lethal wave.
Satoru stood at the chaos's epicenter, his aura alone outshining every other sorcerer there. Approaching him, his cursed energy snapped and crackled through the air, an unbelievable display of power that drew you in and pushed you away all at once.
"Satoru!" Your shout tore through the mayhem. He whirled to face you, eyes momentarily wide—a flash of vulnerability amid the devastation. Those eyes, they're silently pleading, screaming for you to pull back, and despite the tumult, you get the message loud and clear. But what was the use of that power if it didn't protect the ones you cared for? To hell with it.
Your focus narrows on an oncoming curse, even though Satoru's gaze prickles at the edge of your awareness."Get out of here!" he yells your way.
"Keep your eye on your battle!"
Energy erupts as he eliminated his foe, rushing to your side, aligning in a back-to-back stance. "Why the hell can't you ever listen to me?" His voice, laced with both anger and anxiety, pierces through the surrounding chaos.
Rolling your eyes, your voice sharp, you snap back, "And when did you ever play by the rules?" Your retort is cutting, a sly smile dancing on your lips even as you annihilate a curse right before you, leaving Satoru momentarily agape.
****
It hurt. Your whole body screamed with pain, a strong reminder that you were leagues away from being on par with Satoru. Matching his pace, his skill, it had stretched you to your breaking point, and he was acutely aware of it. Each instance you'd battled alongside him, he'd sensed the struggle now woven into your being.
Following the nightmarish assault of curses, you, battered and worn, staggered through the school building towards your room. The prospect of a hot shower loomed in your weary mind like a distant sanctuary—a scant comfort to wash away the night's lingering horrors. Your knees wavered with each step, legs trembling under the burden of sheer fatigue, while blood trickled from your wounds, disrupting your already blurred vision.
"Hey! What the hell did you think you were doing?" Satoru's voice cut through your pain-hazed senses as he approached, the sound grating harshly against your pulsating skull. He stood there, unscathed, his body frustratingly flawless. Any blood that stained his clothes was probably yours.
"Doing my damn job, that's what!" you retorted.
"I told you to get out of there!"
"And I made it pretty clear I wasn't going anywhere!"
You barely made it into your room, trying to shut the door, but he resisted, his hand preventing it from clicking shut. "Satoru, get out," you pressed, your patience running thin.
"You're just so full of yourself, aren't you?" His voice leaks frustration and anger as he steps inside, firmly securing the door behind him.
WHAT.
"What did you say" His talent for pushing your buttons and driving you to the brink of insanity was honestly impressive.
"You think you can do whatever you want without consequences?" he spat, eyes ablaze with a fiery intensity. "—or are you just tired of life and looking for a death wish?"
Wiping blood from the corner of your mouth, you replied, the sarcasm barely concealing the shakiness in your voice, "Well, I'm still breathing, ain't I? Must be doing something right." Your eyes held his, an unspoken standoff unfolding. Satoru's stare sought to pierce your resolve.
"Why do you always have to be so damn stubborn?"
"Maybe because someone has to be!"
His eyes narrowed, and the space between you shrank as he took an imposing step forward. "Do you even get it? People lost their lives tonight."
"And you think I'm unaware?" Your voice heightened. "But I can't—won't—just stand around doing nothing."
"One day, this attitude's gonna be what kills you! Can't you see that?"
"Save me the lecture, Satoru!" you hissed back, "So what, because not everyone can be as all-mighty as your honourable ass, we should all just stop fighting? Just give up and let the great Satoru Gojo save the day? Are you really this arrogant?"
"You're not getting it, are you?"
FUCK YOU!
"Go ahead! Enlighten me!"
But he screwed words—and let his actions answer. His lips, with sudden, scalding fervency, sought yours, a blazing intensity inflaming the contact. His fingers ran through your hair, forcing your head back, amplifying the intensity of the kiss. His tongue, enmeshed with yours, wrestled in a fervid duel, his essence emanating a savage hunger, as if he'd languished, famished for an eternity.
His force, irresistible and uncompromising, pushed you backward until your spine hit the unyielding wall. Muscular arms encircled you, pinning you relentlessly to the solid surface, and you responded with unbridled passion, fingers tangled in the silky cascade of his hair.
For a moment, breath-stealing moment, doubts and fears were obliterated. There was only the present, the electrifying connection between you and him. Your skin tingled under his touch, aching for more. Swiftly, he lifted you, his hands cradling you at your hips, while your own hands remained ensnared in his hair.
"We shouldn't be doing this," you muttered, your breath catching.
"We definitely shouldn't," he agreed, his voice a low murmur, before lowering you to sit on the desk. The space between kisses left just enough room for you to catch your breath, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. With practiced ease, he skilfully removed your blood-stained shirt and tossed it into a corner.
"You should go," you whispered as you pushed him back slightly with a quick motion, your feet resting on his chest. Satoru's gaze remained fixed on you, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. Slowly, he began to unbutton his own stained shirt, revealing his sculpted—almost unreal—muscular chest underneath.
"You've got some nerve playing hard to get."
"Oh, really?" You grinned. "I'm just enjoying the look on your face." His eyebrow raised.
"You want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid." A smirk played on your lips.
Sator embraced you again with a force that made you moan softly against his lips. His skin burned against yours, leaving you breathless. With a swift yet gentle move, he turned you over and pushed you onto the table. You're back now to him, a loud moan escaped your lips as you felt his weight pressing against your legs and hips. The undeniable presence of his arousal against your skin sent shivers through your body.
"You're quite a stubborn one, aren't you?" he whispered, his voice tinged with sarcasm as he traced agonisingly slow paths down the scar on your spine.
Every brush of his fingers served as a haunting reminder of how desperately you had longed for him—the need for his touch consuming you completely. Your fingers dug into the unforgiving, cold wood beneath you, your arousal increasing as you heard the distinct sound of his belt being unbuckled.
"But you're absolutely right." Leaning down, he hovered over you, his breath tantalisingly warm against your cheek. "I really wanna fuck you so bad."
In the heat of the moment, before you could even gather your thoughts, he began to thrust into you, his movements fast, restless, and filled with a deep intensity. Fuck. Your bodies pressed together, your hips moving in perfect harmony with his, each movement driving you both to greater heights of pleasure. You couldn't help but push him to go faster, to give in to the burning desire that consumed you both.
Sator couldn't hold back the moans that escaped his lips as he felt your insistent demands, your unspoken desire for more. It was as if a dormant passion had been awakened, a desire that defied the pain and strain of the past months and weeks. The sensation was so overwhelming, so painfully perfect, that it felt almost unfair. It was in that moment, lost in the rush of the heat, that you both realized how deeply you yearned for each other. The connection you shared, the magnetic pull between you, will never go away just because you call it quits.
Satoru instinctively pushed his hips forward, seeking an even deeper connection, his movements driven by a primal need. He adjusted the angle of his thrusts, a subtle change that sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It was too much and too little at the same time.
His fingers found their way to your most sensitive spot and began to draw a mesmerizing pattern of desire. His presence both protective and intoxicating as he pressed himself against your back. His other hand, with a firm yet gentle touch, found your neck and encircled it. The sensation of his hand wrapped around your neck sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill that made you moan involuntarily. It wasn't an overpowering grip, but rather a firm and possessive one.
Satoru's need surged with each passing moment, mirroring your own. You could feel how close he was, how he couldn't hold back any longer. It was evident in the way he pressed against you, thrusting into you with a fervor that left you breathless.
"Satoru, I can't wait any longer," you whispered, the urgency in your voice reflecting the overwhelming desire coursing through you.
The urgency in his moans grew. His pace quickened, his movements more fervent, each one in perfect harmony with the wild rhythm of your shared desire. You couldn't help but roll your eyes in the back of your head as you felt every inch of him—every touch of him—pushing you closer to the edge until you climaxed just seconds before he did. Quick and dirty. Literally dirty, you thought as you saw your blood-stained hands still clinging to the hard wood beneath you as if it were vital to your life.
Satoru's breaths were heavy and erratic, his forehead finding solace on your back as both of you panted, attempting to reel in your breaths. Breaking the silence, he quipped with a tinge of irony, "Guess we screwed the whole 'not happening again' plan, huh?" He withdrew, retreated a few steps, and hoisted his pants back into place.
You pushed yourself off the table and began to pull up your pants as well. "Don't pin this on me."
You turned around, met with the sight of a defeated Satoru, his eyelids hanging low, breaths coming in heavy pants as though he'd just sprinted through a marathon. His eyes lazily traced over you from head to toe. You couldn't quite decipher if his expression held regret or if his mind had simply been overtaken by the whirlwind of this night's ups and downs.
"We'll be down in a sec," he mumbled into the phone before hanging up.
You raised an eyebrow.
"Yaga needs a report—from both of us."
"Now?" Your eyes flicked to your reflection in the mirror. Shit.
"Yes, right now."
****
Satoru had that sturdy, solemn rhythm to his voice, spilling the happenings on the nightmare of a night to Yaga in all its gritty detail. Megumi, along with a bunch of other students, soaked it all in, his stare kinda like a dagger that seems to pierce right through you. You didn't dare lock eyes with him, not while Satoru's cum was dripping down your leg.
Trying to put on a brave face wasn't working—your messy hair, the state of your clothes, and that stubborn blush told more than words ever could. Both you and Satoru, still decked out in the grimy, blood-stained clothes from the nightmare, were like silent witnesses to the chaos that just went down.
The weight of Megumi's disapproval—or maybe it was a confusing mix of disappointment and concern?—was heavy in the room, not needing words to make its presence felt. The sting of it, against your awareness of the missteps taken, bit deep.
Yaga, snapping you out of your sea of self-blame with his crisp authority, instructed, "Alright, all of you can take off now," dissolving the gathering and leaving just him and Satoru to talk things out in the room.
Stepping out into the hallway, the soft light of dawn gently flowed inside, splashing a kind, gentle glow over everything. Megumi's caring side showed itself as he turned to you, hands gently reaching, his eyes scanning your injuries. "You hurt?"
"Just a few scrapes," you answered, holding his gaze, fully aware of the heartfelt, probably awkward chat that was about to happen.
But you beat him to the punch, "You don't have to give me a lecture."
But his response caught you off-guard, "I'm not going to."
His next words hung there, hovering in the air between you two. "—I just wish you could see past Gojo."
A quiet moment moved in, before you let out a soft, "So do I." And you meant it, you really did. Satoru, even with all his might, was far from perfect—his cowardice, his childishness, and maybe even a bit of a god complex to boot. Definitely not what you had on your checklist for a dream partner. But there was this unspoken pull, an almost magnetic attraction, that managed to sweep the sting of his countless, wounding words under the rug.
Megumi's face gentled, the defiance in his eyes melting into something softer, warmer. "I'm here for you, always," he murmured, tenderly moving a blood-caked strand of hair away from your face. A faint smile played at the edges of his lips. "Though I gotta say, your taste? Horrible. And you could really use a bath."
You did not deserve him.
It just wasn't right, and you could see it in his eyes. His feelings, unreturned, practically radiated through his gaze, transparent as glass. He was extending something beyond friendship, an offer you just weren't ready, maybe not even capable, of returning. Fleeting glimpses of a future away from Satoru's engulfing aura shimmered in the distance, stark against the current agony of perpetually wounding Megumi. Guilt swept through—you were the cause of his pain, and he didn't deserve an ounce of it. Fixing things became a must—for his heart as much as yours.
So, when the first light of the next day peeked through, you went looking for Satoru.
****
The next day proved to be less than ideal to confront Satoru.
Still, you couldn't bear to put it off any longer. Not after the assault. Not after what happened.
The west wing of the school lay in ruins, and nearby homes suffered the same fate. The city was a mess. It would undoubtedly take a considerable amount of time to clean up the aftermath. The devastation left an indelible mark.
And then the burial.
Earlier in the morning, a funeral was held to honor a freshman who had tragically fallen the night before. Though you had no personal connection to him, your teammates did. But you didn't attend the funeral. Not because of unfamiliarity, but because of a piercing, suffocating shame.
You couldn't remember the young student's face or name. You tried so hard to remember anything about him, but your memory failed you. It was all clouded by only one man. Your teammates, the other students, even Megumi's emotions—all blurred when Satoru took center stage.
You stood in front of the student's grave. Rain soaked you relentlessly, each drop a silent accusation. You murmured the student's name, gleaned from the tombstone, over and over, yet memory failed you.
Was he there last night?
Did you overlook him?
In an abrupt shift, the rain stopped around you.
"Are you cold?" a familiar voice queried.
"I feel nothing."
Satoru appeared beside you, an umbrella aloft, providing a shield from the continuous downpour outside your immediate vicinity. The only sound was the muffled patter of raindrops against the umbrella.
"Don't burden yourself with guilt," he said quietly.
There was it again.
His behavior like he knew you all.
Read you like a book.
You hated it.
"Did you see him last night?" you posed.
"Saw him?"
"Did you see him in the fray?"
"I didn't," he said, but somehow you thought he was lying.
But then it hit you.
"I did," you whispered, barely audible. "I remember now. When I rushed towards you, I passed him by. He was fighting a curse, but I didn't pay attention to him. All I could think of was you." Your chest tightened as you admitted, "So I simply ran past him."
"You couldn't have seen this coming."
"Don't you get it?" Your eyes found his, his gaze heavy on you. "You're consuming me to the point where I'm blinded."
"That is not true."
"Don't say that. You know it too," you insisted, trying to keep your voice calm, "We're no good for each other."
"Listen, you are the only good thing for me, you hear me?," he pleaded, eyes searching yours.
"But you're no good for me," you countered, voice quivering, as you retreated a step. Your throat tightened, your heart heavy.
"Don't say that."
You couldn't ignore the harsh reality any longer, despite the pain. "I can't keep sacrificing everything for you."
The words lingered, oppressive, ensnaring you both. Satoru appeared fractured, defeated, yet also soothing, comforting. "I can't lose you." His utterance shattered the hush, embedding within it an unspoken hurt.
For a moment, it seemed as if time itself had frozen. The rain continued to fall, but the world around you had become eerily still.
"So this is it?" he pressed, the pain etched across his face deepened, and it was as if every word you were about to say was a lash against his wounded heart.
You nodded slowly, unable to trust your voice. As the rain continued to fall, it was as though the heavens themselves wept for the love that was slipping away. The weight of your choices bore down on your shoulders, and the hurtful exchange of words and glances left scars that might never fully heal.
The seconds stretched into an eternity as you both stood there, suspended in the rain-soaked moment. "I can't lose you," he whispered again, his eyes never leaving yours. With a heavy heart, you finally managed to find your voice, though it felt like shards of glass in your throat. "I know," you whispered, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "But we should just go back to being fiends."
"I don't think I can."
"But we must try," your voice a fragile whisper.
The world around you seemed to have lost its vibrant colors, as if the rain had washed everything away. And you hoped that it would eventually wash away your feelings for him as well.