( easy to read the tone there, that there will be no questions asked--and he doesn't have any to offer, anyway. whatever gojo needs to do to maintain his body, or his abilities, he only knows briefly; for a curse, it's quite easy to engage in RCT to heal damage, but for a human brain, does that make things better, or worse? does alcohol simply get in the way of gojo's physical abilities, or is there some kind of personal dislike for it? on his end, he still hasn't tried any of it--a part of him isn't sure if he should.
his gaze slides, patient, as gojo shifts away from the shower: but his displeasure is immediately on his face, a tugging of his mouth into a frown, as he reaches forward to take the bundle of wet clothes from gojo's arms. hard to say whether his gaze wants to skim, or if it just does it out of habit--a small swallow, a nod of his chin, and while he hoists the wet mass up against his chest, his free arm moves, a firm palm that pushes, gently, at gojo's wet chest. )
Towel yourself off. I'll bring you clothes. ( a beat. ) If you're cold, get in the shower again.
( best to turn away before he's caught staring, so he moves disgruntled towards the doorway, already dutifully working his way down the hall to the washer. fascinating machine, really: he gently loads in gojo's clothing, adds a bit of soap, and turns it on; it means that he's now the wet one, a big damp splotch on his chest, but he still goes down the other end of the hall to--
no, detour. he doesn't want to go inside gojo's room without him there, and they're a similar size. so he takes a pair of dark underwear, a pair of sweatpants, and a crisp white t-shirt from his own room, carrying them back to the bathroom so that he can tuck them, gently, onto the counter. )
Do you need anything else? ( he waits there, hovering in the door frame, just in case. )
[ Gojo's pretty sure that Choso was checking him out just then, but that's not new news. They've been flirting. Choso kissed him back. The attraction is obvious. (It helps, of course, that Gojo is gorgeous and could shift anyone's Kinsey scale by a couple of points, so that makes it all the easier for him to assume that Choso has the good sense to appreciate his looks.)
Scrubbing the towel through his hair to finish drying it as Choso returns, Gojo flashes him a grin in thanks and goes to put on the clothes, then pauses in confusion. ] These aren't mine.
[ There's no reason to reject them, though, so Gojo pulls on the shirt as his brain continues connecting the dots. It's not like strange clothes are a trap, but why didn't Choso fetch Gojo's clothes? ] These are your clothes. [ He's amused as his brain finishes making connections, though his conclusion is slightly off from Choso's intentions: politeness is so antithetical to Gojo's nature that it would have been one of the last theories to occur to him. ] You didn't want to go in my room. Scared of finding weird sex toys and porn?
You know, I don't think I've ever worn another guy's underwear before? Kinky. [ He is fully aware that is likely to send Choso into a panic either because of the sexual implication or having done human behavior wrong, but he's already stepping into the underwear before Choso can take them back, and then pulling up the sweatpants. ]
Now you're all wet. [ He hooks an arm over Choso's shoulders, leaning into him as he raps his knuckles lightly against that wet spot, then plants a kiss on his temple. ] Go change your shirt. I'll make that tea.
( his mouth opens, then shuts, but it's obvious that nothing he says here is going to get him out of this feeling of embarrassment--no explanation is going to help him, and worse, may just add fuel to gojo's teasing flames. so he shuts his mouth again with a disgruntled sound, rumbling in his throat, and rolls his eyes up towards the ceiling.
does it matter, sharing clothes that are clean? it would have been something else entirely if he had brought gojo a pair of used underwear, that would have been worse, that would have been downright--well, perverted in a way. so then gojo's just teasing him about this. right? he's racking his human logistics to try to find the answer when that arm drapes over his shoulders, and he looks down.
right. his shirt is wet. his head tilts with the pressure of the kiss, but the hand that he lifts up to nudge at gojo is only mild, gentle. )
Fine. ( he drags himself sidelong, just to give gojo a once-over: as though reassuring that he looks okay, before he trudges out the door again, returning back to his room. it's quick and easy, really, peeling out of his shirt, shrugging into a new one, and then as an after thought, retreating back to the washing machine to drop his damp shirt in with the rest of gojo's clothes.
--surely that isn't some kind of perverted thing, either? is he going to have to do everyone's laundry separately, because if their clothes mix, it's kinky?
glumly, he heads back down the stairs towards the kitchen, where presumably gojo is making the tea--or if he's not, he'll elbow in to do it for him. as the person responsible for the meal, it would only make sense. )
[ Gojo does make the tea. It's terrible, but that's not his fault. He can only find terrible tea in this city. This is the least terrible he's managed to find, but it's hard to say that definitively out of the various flavors of awful available. Maybe this region once had decent tea fields, but he doubts it. Maybe one of the other islands once had decent tea fields. Maybe if they're unbelievably lucky there are still fields of tea growing somewhere they can access it, if Gojo can just find them. Until then: these stale black shreds of unidentified leaves, contained within little paper tea bags.
He sets the tea cups down, offers Choso a smile as he comes back in. Easy, for once. A simple and domestic moment, making dinner and tea for each other, laundry tumbling in the other room. Almost possible to forget what a disaster Gojo had been mere minutes ago, and no doubt will be again. The calm in the eye of the storm belying the fact that Choso's caught up in a hurricane.
But there's still a slight tilt to Gojo's lips to turn that smile into a smirk. A sharpness in his eyes both wary and predatory. Ready to turn everything into a joke--or a challenge. ]
I want to ask you something. [ Now, Gojo? he demands of himself. When he's so clearly been reminded that you're a burden and a hazard?
Especially now. Better to have the clear warning.
Crossing the space to Choso while they're both still standing, he rests one arm on Choso's shoulder again. Only the one arm on one shoulder, keeping his body turned away, somehow managing to keep his body language closed off even while he drapes on people. Never really embracing people, only taking up space inside of their boundaries. Always maintaining an infinity between himself and others, even without the use of his powers. ]
And you really ought to have the sense to say no. [ A grin like a shark as he leans his weight heavier on Choso's shoulder.
( A burden and a hazard. )
But he keeps leaning in, bringing his lips close to Choso's ear. ] Date me.
[ The words are soft and warm, playful and inviting. ] Actually. Literally. [ Important to specify, especially when he knows that the laughter laced through his tone could so easily sound like mockery. ]
Call me Satoru.
[ Then the weight lifts away and he steps back, dropping into his chair at the table with his legs splayed, posture reckless enough that it's a miracle he stays in the chair at all. He's aware that everything about that little stunt was unfair. He's unfair. But he's aware, too, that it would be too unfair to make Choso answer him while he was still being a shoulder devil with all the weight of a stone gargoyle, whispering temptation in Choso's ear. ]
( there's at least tea being made, so he doesn't have to scold him for anything. rather, he wants to move around him and ensure that the meal still looks okay: that he doesn't need to swap out the rice, or try to reheat the fish, or any of the other smaller dishes of vegetables that are mostly seasoned but still not quite as good as he'd like them to be. he's too distracted by the thought of taking care of gojo that he doesn't readily realize he's being blocked off until it's too late; then there's that arm on his shoulder, where gojo crowds into his space without really taking up space at all.
it's a strange thing he's noticed. maybe it's just the effect of always counting for the limitless barrier between himself and others--or maybe it's that he never really wants to get too close to people after all.
the words feel like teasing, murmured into his ear, and a part of him wants to scoff, to rub at the shell of his pinkened ear and scrub the embarrassment off his face and sit down in a huff--a part of him feels confused, conflicted, as though now he has to try to contend with whatever feeling it is that brought up in him, and whatever feeling it is that's been percolating, as though not wanting to be understood but rather just to exist without worry.
boneless, he gently slips himself down into his chair at the table, but his palms land on his thighs, and his knees press together, and his gaze goes to the table. )
...Satoru. ( he starts, then stops--is that too soon? he can't take it back now; it's out of his mouth. )
When you... ( there's a slight wince of his gaze, like he hates saying the words out loud at all. ) ...I know that I'll never be that person. The person you... Getou Suguru. He's your most precious person. I understand that.
I think I accepted that meant I would never be able to be anything similar, either. That I...I could never be seen like you see him, or like you see Felwinter, now, or your wolf, maybe, or anything. An imprint, or someone you keep around you--that's easy, and it's easy to see myself wanting to take any little piece you might give me, because any tiny piece of something precious is equally precious.
But there's...an important person to me, here, who might want to give me everything, and I might want to take that, but I don't know if...that will happen.
And so I think I can't accept your offer now, because I think I...need time to figure it all out with myself. I would be a poor date, the person I am now. That, and... and other things. I jumped into so many things when I was incarnated without thinking them through, and I made big mistakes. I want... ( a slow swallow, like it's hard to finish that sentence with anything; it's all jumbled. ) ...to learn you, a little more. Is that wrong?
[ Satoru's posture goes still and tense when Choso starts to speak of Suguru, and his eyes flick down to the side when Choso names him. He's entirely right, that no one would ever be able to take Suguru's place in his heart. No one would ever be able to take any part of what was reserved for Suguru. He would always be an exception, and all other relationships would forever be weighted with that caveat.
Satoru had made clear to his romantic interests here that he would not offer exclusivity. Only Suguru could ask that of him, and with the way thing were ... he doubted that Suguru ever would.
But his gaze snaps back to Choso as the topic moves on, though he keeps quiet and still, listening attentively because Choso's words are important to him.
Surprise lifts his brows for an instant at the mention of someone who wants to be Choso's everything, but his face evens out a moment later, gaze intent but expression unreadable.
Nodding once Choso finishes, Satoru sits forward and picks up his chopsticks. ] That's not wrong. I'm proud of you--that was very well-said and earnest, and you're being mature with how you approach the situation.
[ He takes a bite and chews, mulling through some of Choso's as he formulates his reply. ] I'm a bit jealous of whoever your 'important person' is--though, to clarify, it's a ... I'm jealous because it sounds like 'everything' would be exclusive, so I'm jealous that there's something that might rule me out. I'm immensely happy for you getting to have something special, and someone who values you. If that turns out to be an and situation where you get to have that and date me, I'll be thrilled. But I'll be happy that you have that joy in your life either way.
I want to make sure you know, too, that you belong here. [ He gestures with his chopsticks to point down at the table. Here, in this home they've made together. ] Not like you can't belong anywhere else, if you want to, but just that there's a place here for you. You fit here. With us. You've brought me a lot of joy, and I know Fel also values you immensely. Pretty sure he wants you, too.
[ It's all a lot of soft, warm honesty from Satoru, a lot more gentle and earnest than his usual shameless front--like the showy, challenging way he'd just asked Choso out. ]
I've got such a crush on you, Choso. [ His smirk flashes briefly across his face, but it's a wry thing, and any edge to it has already been turned inward so that it will only cut himself. ] The cute aggression is intense.
[ A part of him wants to make an argument that he needs Choso, and he does. Choso has become an anchor for him, emotionally and morally. Choso provides domesticity and safety for him, taking care of Satoru in ways that he deeply struggles to care for himself--he keeps up a front that the reason he doesn't help with chores is because he's lazy and selfish, hiding the signs of a depression where he would simply not eat for days if left to his own devices, much like the way that he avoids sleep. Choso provides a buffer and a balance between him and Fel, and Satoru's not sure if the two of them are capable of not destroying their own relationship out of stubbornness and pride, without Choso creating a point of compromise. They end up talking about Choso in most of their arguments. Even without being physically present, he reins them in because they both care enough to want to keep from displeasing him.
Saying any of that feels like it would lay chains on Choso, and that isn't fair to him, if he has a chance at happiness.
Satoru's smirk fades, and he gazes into his food, taking another couple of bites and trusting that Choso will let him work through his thoughts a little bit more. ]
You're incredibly valuable to me, Choso. [ That feels like the most he can fairly say. It's true, and Choso deserves to know that he's valued. Satoru's expression remains faraway and sad, and he doesn't look up. ] But you're right. You'll never be my one and only.
If you have a chance at having that, you should take it.
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no subject
his gaze slides, patient, as gojo shifts away from the shower: but his displeasure is immediately on his face, a tugging of his mouth into a frown, as he reaches forward to take the bundle of wet clothes from gojo's arms. hard to say whether his gaze wants to skim, or if it just does it out of habit--a small swallow, a nod of his chin, and while he hoists the wet mass up against his chest, his free arm moves, a firm palm that pushes, gently, at gojo's wet chest. )
Towel yourself off. I'll bring you clothes. ( a beat. ) If you're cold, get in the shower again.
( best to turn away before he's caught staring, so he moves disgruntled towards the doorway, already dutifully working his way down the hall to the washer. fascinating machine, really: he gently loads in gojo's clothing, adds a bit of soap, and turns it on; it means that he's now the wet one, a big damp splotch on his chest, but he still goes down the other end of the hall to--
no, detour. he doesn't want to go inside gojo's room without him there, and they're a similar size. so he takes a pair of dark underwear, a pair of sweatpants, and a crisp white t-shirt from his own room, carrying them back to the bathroom so that he can tuck them, gently, onto the counter. )
Do you need anything else? ( he waits there, hovering in the door frame, just in case. )
no subject
Scrubbing the towel through his hair to finish drying it as Choso returns, Gojo flashes him a grin in thanks and goes to put on the clothes, then pauses in confusion. ] These aren't mine.
[ There's no reason to reject them, though, so Gojo pulls on the shirt as his brain continues connecting the dots. It's not like strange clothes are a trap, but why didn't Choso fetch Gojo's clothes? ] These are your clothes. [ He's amused as his brain finishes making connections, though his conclusion is slightly off from Choso's intentions: politeness is so antithetical to Gojo's nature that it would have been one of the last theories to occur to him. ] You didn't want to go in my room. Scared of finding weird sex toys and porn?
You know, I don't think I've ever worn another guy's underwear before? Kinky. [ He is fully aware that is likely to send Choso into a panic either because of the sexual implication or having done human behavior wrong, but he's already stepping into the underwear before Choso can take them back, and then pulling up the sweatpants. ]
Now you're all wet. [ He hooks an arm over Choso's shoulders, leaning into him as he raps his knuckles lightly against that wet spot, then plants a kiss on his temple. ] Go change your shirt. I'll make that tea.
no subject
does it matter, sharing clothes that are clean? it would have been something else entirely if he had brought gojo a pair of used underwear, that would have been worse, that would have been downright--well, perverted in a way. so then gojo's just teasing him about this. right? he's racking his human logistics to try to find the answer when that arm drapes over his shoulders, and he looks down.
right. his shirt is wet. his head tilts with the pressure of the kiss, but the hand that he lifts up to nudge at gojo is only mild, gentle. )
Fine. ( he drags himself sidelong, just to give gojo a once-over: as though reassuring that he looks okay, before he trudges out the door again, returning back to his room. it's quick and easy, really, peeling out of his shirt, shrugging into a new one, and then as an after thought, retreating back to the washing machine to drop his damp shirt in with the rest of gojo's clothes.
--surely that isn't some kind of perverted thing, either? is he going to have to do everyone's laundry separately, because if their clothes mix, it's kinky?
glumly, he heads back down the stairs towards the kitchen, where presumably gojo is making the tea--or if he's not, he'll elbow in to do it for him. as the person responsible for the meal, it would only make sense. )
no subject
He sets the tea cups down, offers Choso a smile as he comes back in. Easy, for once. A simple and domestic moment, making dinner and tea for each other, laundry tumbling in the other room. Almost possible to forget what a disaster Gojo had been mere minutes ago, and no doubt will be again. The calm in the eye of the storm belying the fact that Choso's caught up in a hurricane.
But there's still a slight tilt to Gojo's lips to turn that smile into a smirk. A sharpness in his eyes both wary and predatory. Ready to turn everything into a joke--or a challenge. ]
I want to ask you something. [ Now, Gojo? he demands of himself. When he's so clearly been reminded that you're a burden and a hazard?
Especially now. Better to have the clear warning.
Crossing the space to Choso while they're both still standing, he rests one arm on Choso's shoulder again. Only the one arm on one shoulder, keeping his body turned away, somehow managing to keep his body language closed off even while he drapes on people. Never really embracing people, only taking up space inside of their boundaries. Always maintaining an infinity between himself and others, even without the use of his powers. ]
And you really ought to have the sense to say no. [ A grin like a shark as he leans his weight heavier on Choso's shoulder.
( A burden and a hazard. )
But he keeps leaning in, bringing his lips close to Choso's ear. ] Date me.
[ The words are soft and warm, playful and inviting. ] Actually. Literally. [ Important to specify, especially when he knows that the laughter laced through his tone could so easily sound like mockery. ]
Call me Satoru.
[ Then the weight lifts away and he steps back, dropping into his chair at the table with his legs splayed, posture reckless enough that it's a miracle he stays in the chair at all. He's aware that everything about that little stunt was unfair. He's unfair. But he's aware, too, that it would be too unfair to make Choso answer him while he was still being a shoulder devil with all the weight of a stone gargoyle, whispering temptation in Choso's ear. ]
no subject
it's a strange thing he's noticed. maybe it's just the effect of always counting for the limitless barrier between himself and others--or maybe it's that he never really wants to get too close to people after all.
the words feel like teasing, murmured into his ear, and a part of him wants to scoff, to rub at the shell of his pinkened ear and scrub the embarrassment off his face and sit down in a huff--a part of him feels confused, conflicted, as though now he has to try to contend with whatever feeling it is that brought up in him, and whatever feeling it is that's been percolating, as though not wanting to be understood but rather just to exist without worry.
boneless, he gently slips himself down into his chair at the table, but his palms land on his thighs, and his knees press together, and his gaze goes to the table. )
...Satoru. ( he starts, then stops--is that too soon? he can't take it back now; it's out of his mouth. )
When you... ( there's a slight wince of his gaze, like he hates saying the words out loud at all. ) ...I know that I'll never be that person. The person you... Getou Suguru. He's your most precious person. I understand that.
I think I accepted that meant I would never be able to be anything similar, either. That I...I could never be seen like you see him, or like you see Felwinter, now, or your wolf, maybe, or anything. An imprint, or someone you keep around you--that's easy, and it's easy to see myself wanting to take any little piece you might give me, because any tiny piece of something precious is equally precious.
But there's...an important person to me, here, who might want to give me everything, and I might want to take that, but I don't know if...that will happen.
And so I think I can't accept your offer now, because I think I...need time to figure it all out with myself. I would be a poor date, the person I am now. That, and... and other things. I jumped into so many things when I was incarnated without thinking them through, and I made big mistakes. I want... ( a slow swallow, like it's hard to finish that sentence with anything; it's all jumbled. ) ...to learn you, a little more. Is that wrong?
no subject
Satoru had made clear to his romantic interests here that he would not offer exclusivity. Only Suguru could ask that of him, and with the way thing were ... he doubted that Suguru ever would.
But his gaze snaps back to Choso as the topic moves on, though he keeps quiet and still, listening attentively because Choso's words are important to him.
Surprise lifts his brows for an instant at the mention of someone who wants to be Choso's everything, but his face evens out a moment later, gaze intent but expression unreadable.
Nodding once Choso finishes, Satoru sits forward and picks up his chopsticks. ] That's not wrong. I'm proud of you--that was very well-said and earnest, and you're being mature with how you approach the situation.
[ He takes a bite and chews, mulling through some of Choso's as he formulates his reply. ] I'm a bit jealous of whoever your 'important person' is--though, to clarify, it's a ... I'm jealous because it sounds like 'everything' would be exclusive, so I'm jealous that there's something that might rule me out. I'm immensely happy for you getting to have something special, and someone who values you. If that turns out to be an and situation where you get to have that and date me, I'll be thrilled. But I'll be happy that you have that joy in your life either way.
I want to make sure you know, too, that you belong here. [ He gestures with his chopsticks to point down at the table. Here, in this home they've made together. ] Not like you can't belong anywhere else, if you want to, but just that there's a place here for you. You fit here. With us. You've brought me a lot of joy, and I know Fel also values you immensely. Pretty sure he wants you, too.
[ It's all a lot of soft, warm honesty from Satoru, a lot more gentle and earnest than his usual shameless front--like the showy, challenging way he'd just asked Choso out. ]
I've got such a crush on you, Choso. [ His smirk flashes briefly across his face, but it's a wry thing, and any edge to it has already been turned inward so that it will only cut himself. ] The cute aggression is intense.
[ A part of him wants to make an argument that he needs Choso, and he does. Choso has become an anchor for him, emotionally and morally. Choso provides domesticity and safety for him, taking care of Satoru in ways that he deeply struggles to care for himself--he keeps up a front that the reason he doesn't help with chores is because he's lazy and selfish, hiding the signs of a depression where he would simply not eat for days if left to his own devices, much like the way that he avoids sleep. Choso provides a buffer and a balance between him and Fel, and Satoru's not sure if the two of them are capable of not destroying their own relationship out of stubbornness and pride, without Choso creating a point of compromise. They end up talking about Choso in most of their arguments. Even without being physically present, he reins them in because they both care enough to want to keep from displeasing him.
Saying any of that feels like it would lay chains on Choso, and that isn't fair to him, if he has a chance at happiness.
Satoru's smirk fades, and he gazes into his food, taking another couple of bites and trusting that Choso will let him work through his thoughts a little bit more. ]
You're incredibly valuable to me, Choso. [ That feels like the most he can fairly say. It's true, and Choso deserves to know that he's valued. Satoru's expression remains faraway and sad, and he doesn't look up. ] But you're right. You'll never be my one and only.
If you have a chance at having that, you should take it.