#satorkiees

[satorkiees]

✮⋆ TWILIGHT ZONE : satoru gojo ✮ ⋆ ˚｡

ˋ⁀➷ in which you get a note pertaining your death sent to you by none other than satoru gojo. chaos ensues.

cw: 2.8k words, strangers to (eventual) lovers

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Death was on your doorstep. Literally.

In your hands, a creased brown envelope clung to an equally tattered piece of paper which had embarked on a journey to land outside of your door. The message was clear. Ominous, even. Written with a fading black ballpoint pen that seemed to have exhausted its ink by the end of its extreme warning.

“BY THE EIGHTH OF FEBRUARY. YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DO NOT HEED MY WARNING. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT YOU EITHER  A) FIND A NEW JOB OR B) LEAVE THE COUNTRY. PLEASE CONTACT THIS NUMBER ASAP - 0XX XXX XXXX”

Surveying your surroundings for any prying eyes, you found no one but a cold draft of air tumbling by you. With a sigh, you retrieved your worn out phone from your pocket and dialled the number. What could possibly go wrong?

RING.

RING. 

RING. 

“Hello?” you said hesitantly.

“Heyyyy.” A voice, far too chirpy for the gravity of the situation, rang out from your phone. “I’m glad you called, Y/N. I’m Satoru Gojo and I’ll be your makeshift bodyguard for the next 2 weeks.” He paused whilst words failed you. ”Well, I guess I’ll see you soon!”

Over the past couple of days, you had learnt a lot about Satoru Gojo but perhaps the strangest of all was his nonchalance. 

An hour or two after your call, your doorbell rang. Standing before you was a man, about six feet tall, with an allure that masked the ominous message (you assumed) he sent. His boyish smile and circular black sunglasses (despite it being the dead of winter) contradicted the gravity of the situation perfectly matched the aura of the voice you heard. He appeared slightly older than you, maybe eighteen or nineteen, as a youthful aura exuded off of him.

“Can I come in?”

Silently, you allowed him in. Satoru took a few glances around your cramped apartment, his mouth opening as if to mention it but deciding to keep it shut.

“So, could you please explain to me what’s going on?” You asked, anxiety laced in your voice.

Seating himself on your worn couch, he began to unravel the unsettling truth. “A curse is after you, like big-time. If they can successfully remove your soul from your body, it’ll be game over for both you, me and the sorcerer world!” He sighed dramatically, motioning a ‘kaboom’ effect with his hands for added effect.  Frankly, eighty percent of his mysterious revelation had not quite registered and you weren’t sure it ever would. 

Swiftly, the night began to fall as darkness crept into your apartment. Stumbling over some old book piles, you switched on your lamp allowing a warm yellow light to fill the room. Turning your back to Gojo, you lit up another two candles allowing a lavender scent to creep into your senses. Despite its supposed calming properties, the lavender scent only confused you even more wearing your patience thinner. You blew out the candle light.

Despite your silence, Gojo persisted. “Not that I couldn’t handle it - the curses, I mean - but it’d make it significantly harder if you were dead so we’ve got to work together, alright? Alright!” He concluded, clapping his hands with an unbridled sense of finality. Gojo carried himself in a way that made what he said seem somewhat normal, as if his laid back shoulders and casual slouch into your second hand couch was enough to convince you that curses, or monsters even, existed in the first place.

Twitching, your eyes and head began to hurt; the overload of information from this somewhat cute guy made you feel like you were in some sort of absurdist dream. Laughter began to erupt out of you. Satoru’s face twitched in confusion as he furrowed his eyebrows. Sighing, you began trying to find the right words to say.

“Get out.” was what you landed on. Finally, mustering up the courage to face him.

“What?” His chirpy tone had dwindled and instead, was replaced with full panic. His eyes widened. ”Didn’t you read the letter or hear anything I just said?” Exasperation evident within his tone as he got off the couch and approached you.

“Satoru, look.” You did your best to meet his eyes  but eventually turned towards the door. “I can’t help you. Even if I could and if what you’re saying is real then what am I supposed to do against some soul-snatching curse?” 

As if on cue, your lamplight dimmed even more, leaving a low light to fill the room. Fiddling with the papers at your door, which were compiled of all your uni-work and and your part time internship responsibilities, all seemingly useless when your life was doomed to end in a couple of days. A sense of dread washed over you, your headache worsened. Gojo approached you like you were some sort of timid animal about to flee at any moment. His playful aura dissipated leaving a much more serious, grounding one. Pursing your lips together, you stopped fiddling with your work and met his eyes properly for the first time.

Satoru Gojo stood before you, someone who was essentially a stranger but looked at you with such a fire in his eyes that you couldn’t help but believe what he was saying was true. The way the lowlight framed his face and made his features glow with such an intensity was something you couldn’t ignore.

“You don’t have to do anything, honest. Leave it to me. I just need you to accept my help, that’s it.” He said with his hands on his heart. Turning around to face him once more, his blue eyes that contained a particular sense of wonder, locked with yours silently pleading. 

Looking away, you opened your door. “Please. Go.”

As he left, he looked at you once more, disappointment etched into every crevice on his face. 

The lack of his presence left you with an uneasy feeling of dread. Strangely, he had convinced you he was telling the truth even if he was a little unconventional with his methods of persuasion. Though you wanted to believe what he was saying wasn’t true, as you mindlessly went through your night routine, a constant thought plagued your mind. 

Is this it?

Waking up to the frigid stillness of your winter room, you shivered. A draft of wind swept through, tempting you to linger in the warmth of your bed. Reluctantly, you switched on your lamp, allowing light to seep into your room disbanding the darkness entrenched in the crevices of your room. Suddenly, memories of the past 24 hours flooded back into your brain as you did your best to trudge through your extensive morning routine. Doing it as you normally would - brushing your teeth, showering, getting dressed, doing a mandatory morning clean of your apartment.  However, during that last step, you found something that solidified the surreal events of the previous night. 

In a state of delusion, you had hoped that everything had been an elaborate dream, one that had simply been a byproduct of your numerous stress-inducing responsibilities. But you were sorely mistaken. Satoru Gojo’s glasses laid there on your couch, snugly wedged in where he was seated last night, evident from the deflated dent in your couch. Gently, you picked them up, surveying the accessory. They were in relatively good condition, seemingly worn a lot due to the slight oxidation around the frames; the lenses without a prescription either as you held them closer to your eyes. Because of your background, you weren’t too versed in designer brands, however seeing a ‘Cartier’ logo etched into the sides of these glasses was enough to send a second set of shivers down your spine. While you hadn’t formulated many theories surrounding Gojo’s mysterious persona, involvement with the mafia was one of your top three contenders, and these glasses (without any sort of case or protection) had bumped that theory up to number one. 

Despite the fatigue creeping into your body, you decided to attend your classes with Gojo’s glasses tucked into the safety of your backpack’s front pocket. Even if the impending doom of your life ending loomed around a month away, doesn’t mean your classes (and internship) weren’t still there waiting for you. 

As usual, your professors droned on endlessly. prompting you to wonder why you chose this course in the first place. Swiftly, you packed your things to leave, but as you made your exit, you saw something. Fleeting, a shadow outside the glass of your school’s hallway caught your eye, accompanied by a draft of wind that tried to shuffle past you. Blinking, you tried to discern if anything was there only to be met with a headache that intensified with each attempt. Clutching your backpack close, you ignored the discomfort. Making it towards your study room - a safe haven - for you to be able to catch up with the work you’d missed.

Upon entering, a familiar white haired man slouched over the desk, seemingly lost in the most peaceful of slumbers. Before you could say anything, he sprang to life, stretching with exaggerated movements and delivered with a comically large yawn. Unsure of what to do, you waited for him to speak. 

“Hey.” He said with an annoying sense of normalcy, a playful aura radiating from his face, now adorned with a new pair of Cartier glasses. He peered up at you, prompting your response. 

“Are you, like the mafia or something?” You questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. “Because that would explain why you’re here now.” 

He chuckled, his laughter surprisingly pleasant. Though, it was unsurprising that someone like him was also blessed with a nice laugh too. You scoff. “What’s so funny about that?” you retorted, growing annoyed at his mirth whilst your life (supposedly) hung in the balance. 

“Nothing,” he calmed down, wiping an imaginary tear away. You rolled your eyes as he quietened down a bit, positioning his glasses through his hair so he could look at you clearly. Your face began to grow hot with his eyes staring right at you. He continues. “Just my friend Shoko, has this running bit about me being a mafia boss. You remind me of her a bit.” Silently, you prayed for anyone who could tolerate someone as erratic as Gojo. 

“I’m not part of the mafia, however curses and all of that jazz are the real deal and I do really need your help.” Satoru said with the same fervent sincerity as the night before. You looked away, unpacking your bag with the contents of this term’s work cluttering the table. A variety of thoughts ran through your head. Convinced that this mysterious man had been telling the truth, you felt another chilling sensation, unsure if it stemmed from the monsters he spoke of or the stress of your impending demise. 

Quietly, you retrieved Gojo’s glasses from your front pocket and slid them across to him. “You should really put these in a case or something.” His raised eyebrow met with your growing anxiety. The prospect of leaving everything behind to deal with something new was albeit - terrifying, but if you did nothing, you wouldn’t be able to feel anything at all. 

“But, won’t we-”

Not a second later, the wall caved in. Debris and smoke filling the room, rapidly. Gojo grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the now-destroyed room, leaving all your assignments crushed underneath the weight of falling concrete. A single glance back revealed other students fleeing the scene. With screams echoing down the hall, a familiar draft of wind swirled down the corridor after you. 

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” you yelled, your legs burning as you were being dragged at an (inhumanely) high speed. Gojo doing his best to manoeuvre his way through the bustling students, who were bewildered at your rapid pace.

“They’re here.” Out of breath, all retorts had escaped your mind, fight or flight in full swing. With every corridor you left behind, a new chorus of cries echo in your wake. “I could sense him--the curse–but I couldn’t see him. He’s good!" He rattled on but you were certain it was mostly for himself.  Exhilaration clearly pulsing through his veins whilst anxiety was beginning to freeze yours.

“WHAT?” Nothing made sense. It felt insane, as if this was the dreaded sequel of your absurdist nightmare. 

“THE WIND.” He shouted in reply as if that answered anything. A new set of screams followed as you tumbled down the stairs. He continued. “STOP ASKING SO MANY QUESTIONS AND ACCEPT MY HELP.”

“WELL, I WAS ABOUT TO BEFORE WE ALMOST DIED!”

“REALLY?” For the first time in a while, he took a good look at you, a smile evident on his face even despite death feeling very near to the both of you. An ultimately foolish decision, as Satoru almost ran straight into a wall.

“LOOK WHERE YOU’RE GOING, SATORU.” You called out, doing your utmost to keep up with him.

“YES, MAAM!” He turned around, turning up the speed with a newfound sense of motivation. If you stopped running for just a moment, you were sure your legs would fall off.

Nearing a corner, something materialised in front of you. Gojo looked at the mist forming then looked you dead in the eyes. “Accept my help. Please.” 

“Okay, alright! I need your help.”

Everything went black.

Time stood still for what seemed like an eternity. Nothing could be seen but you were feeling everything, everywhere, all at once. Death was your first thought but with Gojo holding onto you, you knew you were still alive.

Then, onslaughts of colour flooded back into your vision. A different form of headache made you feel like you were about to puke out the whole galaxy. However, Gojo did. Even God couldn’t make puking seem graceful. There was enough anxiety to fill up every cell in your body and realising, you were both back in your apartment, you began to panic even more.  Deciding to focus on one thing at a time, you stumbled over towards the kitchen and got a glass of water for the both of you. Placing his down, you sat next to him.

Eagerly, you waited for him to say anything, anything at all to make sense of the past 15 minutes. He looked pale, sickly; whatever he had just done had evidently taken a lot more  out of him than he’d expected. 

Gojo began to monologue, slowly, about his findings and how he got to you in the first place.

a/n - dun dun dunnnn. i'm not sure why i was so nervous to post this but i had a ton of fun writing this. please reblog/like if you enjoyed it. part 2 will be out soon :)

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