if ive talked about this before i apologize but please tell me y'all see how satosugu coded 'ivy' by frank ocean is???
okay im gonna list some lyrics and we're gonna cry together, yeah?
'i thought that i was dreamin when you said you loved me / the start of nothing / I had no chance to prepare, I couldn't see you coming'
'ooh, i could hate you now / its quite alright to hate me now / when we both know that deep down / the feeling still deep down is good'
'i aint a kid no more / we'll never be those kids again'
'everything sucked back then / we were friends'
'all the things i didnt mean to say / I didn't mean to do / there were things you didn't need to say / did you mean to? mean to?'
GOD SATOSUGU MAKES ME SO UNWELL
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A CRUEL EMERALD
` satosugu fanfiction
` fluff, angst / hurt-no comfort (probably)
` before shibuya arc, from s2 to jjk 0
` i wrote this half dead
` a/n : i used "gojo" and "getō" in shoko's pov, but "suguru" and "satoru" in getō's pov. if u caught onto that, good job !! (kisses you consensually)
gojo satoru was perfect. he was more than perfect. the strongest sorcerer, six-eyes, his own technique? it was crazy how fufilled and perfect he was.
except for one flaw. and only suguru getō knows about this.
gojo satoru cannot see the color red.
it was all grey to him, bright red, dark red, neon, dull, all just shades of grey. and it was up to getō to help him fix that.
gojo had never understood the appeal of colors since he was young. sure, they were bright and shiny, and eye-catching, but what's the use? all it adds is just unnecessary flair to plain objects. he has lived by this reasoning ever since he realised that he couldn't see red. and in his eyes, the only thing that he can do to cope with this imperfection, is just, to ignore it.
"surely you jest..no way the perfect satoru can't see the color red, hahahaha!!!" shoko let out a laugh. it was impalpable. gojo satoru, who constantly flaunted his perfection, was in fact, not perfect. it was hilarious. getō listened onto their banter in silence. while shoko was unable to see how gojo's eyes flickered when she was busy laughing, getō could. he always did, anyways. it was always him that could tell the smallest changes to satoru. satoru was his, his best friend, his everything. he cannot bear to even entertain the thought of losing him.
and so getō waited. patiently, for shoko to leave them to their own devices.
she left. suguru inched closer to satoru on the couch.
"are you okay?"
all it took was three words for satoru to break down into tears.
all of this was obscenely embarrassing. satoru? the strongest sorcerer of all time? breaking down into tears? jesus, might as well put him on a stake and burn him alive. not like he could even see the fire anyways.
but getō was there. suguru, was there. he always was. for him, for him only. the slow comforting pats on his back to the low tone of his voice, saying that it's alright to be insecure, has wormed its way into the back of satoru's head. a comforting reminder that there's no need to uphold the clan's wishes. for him to be perfect in every way. for him to have such an insignificant flaw, can be devastating to the clan. it would mean that their life's work was worthless, and the last thing satoru wanted was to be a disappointment.
so suguru went on a mission. gojo satoru couldn't understand the appeal of colors, yes? well, suguru would just make him understand. lead him, and help him. satoru was his, after all. helping him was second nature.
and suguru set on this path. every time they come across something red, suguru manages to explain it. in detail, describing how it was used, why it was used, and where did they use it. soon, this logic was applied to all shades. suguru noticed satoru's lack of interest to anything. there could be a mystifying splash of rainbow, beautiful, mesmerising, gorgeous, and satoru would always find a way to ignore it. suguru caught on, like he always has. and he changed it. he brought suguru around town. they went ahead and explored, suguru's favourite hideouts, satoru's beloved ice cream parlor, and of course, the beachside. the walkways, the shimmering emerald sea lapping across the golden sand, creamy sea foam licking the soles of their feet. satoru takes a liking to green. emerald green, specifically.
so it should be no surprise that their promise ring would be emerald green. satoru, in all his riches, also appreciated simplicity. it was a nice ring, silver bands wrapped around their ring finger as a emerald was cut perfectly into the ring. it wasn't the basic, rectangular cut emerald, no, satoru wasn't one for the plain and boring, but much rather an interesting shape, one that both satoru and suguru held close to their hearts. suguru had always taken a liking to satoru's round, circular glasses, after all. the emerald on the ring rests on their finger, its circular shape reflecting the moonlight.
so it shouldn't be a surprise that the robes suguru dons on comes in emerald green, should it? it's owner waving to satoru, a smile on his lips, and with the most warmth a person could ever exude, saying his name, satoru, almost purring his name, like it's the last word he'll ever say. in the setting sun, backdrop of orange he'll never comprehend, satoru catches something. something shining, reflecting at him. the emerald ring, glimmering in the sunlight.
satoru's own ring twinkle, as in a response to suguru's ring. the rings show off what the owners cannot do. they meet each other through reflections of light, each twinkling and glimmering in their own rhythm, but matching the other. satoru and suguru wishes life were so simple, but it cannot be.
it will never be, the only closure they'll ever get is the cold metal that rests on their finger. a cold emerald, a cruel emerald.
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