cw: it’s just angst
“i’m not mad.”
satoru closes and locks the front door, trailing after you into the kitchen, apprehension rising in the space kept between you. “really? because you seem kind of mad…”
“it’s fine, gojo.” you snap. “i’m fine.”
he watches you, quiet as the two of you go about your evening routine. leftovers from meals brought to the infirmary stowed away. week-old laundry tossed into the basket. you don’t say a word to him, emotions you don’t know how to make sense of still simmering.
“i’m sorry,” he says plainly as you’re both putting away the dishes.
you wipe your hands on the tea towel, glancing over at him. “do you even know what you’re apologizing for?”
he shifts, unsure. “no…”
“of course you don’t,” you sigh.
“then tell me,” he insists, exasperated. “i don’t want to fight.”
“i don’t want to either,” you snap. “but you’re doing it again.”
“doing what?”
“you just spent a week in the infirmary. you were hurt.”
“c’mon,” he laughs weakly. “there was no real chance of me dying.”
“that’s not the—” you voice rises, then immediately quiets when you realize the kids are asleep. “that’s not the point. you’re losing yourself in it again. soon you’re going to drift away from us— from me,” you tell him, bleeding into the pain you’ve felt the last few days. “like you did when we were in school.”
because for as long as you’d known gojo, his drive was to constantly do more. be more. the period of time after the failure that was the star plasma vessel mission was the first time you’d witnessed it. gojo satoru doesn’t do anything halfway. he won’t permit himself to.
that’s what really scares you. he doesn’t know when to stop.
“i’m sorry that i worried you,” he apologizes, sincerity etched into his expression. you know him, know that he’s scared to say the wrong thing, that he’ll mess this up or somehow make it worse. “i had to. the higher ups—”
“satoru,” you interrupt, walls crumbling right in front of him. “i’ve always liked that you care about the jujutsu world. i just don’t want you to only care about it. not with where we are in our lives right now.”
“i don’t—”
“you do! you always have, and i get it. i know the world needs you…but things are getting worse, and we need to start thinking about the future—”
“everything i’m doing is for the future. for the future generation of sorcerers all over the world—”
“i don’t care about the world! i just care about you, and that’s the problem. one person always cares more in a relationship and that’s always been me.”
“that’s not true,” he insists, a desperate edge in his voice. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve never needed is you—”
“i need you too! maybe that sounds selfish or needy, but i don’t want there to be a day where i have to tell the kids that you’re not coming home. if you can’t understand that—”
he doesn’t think you realize you’re crying, frustrated tears gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill over. satoru reaches for you out of instinct, your argument the furthest thing from both your minds at this moment. you let him pull you into his arms, let him hold you.
but you’re exhausted.
this is fight you’ve been having since the moment you’d met him, and you don’t think he’ll understand the impact of it until you walk away.
“if you don’t understand that,” you continue softly, “then maybe we need to take a break.”
_____
outside the apartment door, nanami and shoko sit side by side, sharing a bottle of "welcome home" wine.
"guess they forgot we were coming over," the doctor mutters, pressing her ear against the door to see if jujutsu tech's favourite couple was still fighting. “it’s way too quiet in there. you think she killed him?”
nanami sighs, loosening his tie. “it’s quite possible.”
“i’ll be the alibi and you’ll get rid of the body?”
“of course.”
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