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Gojo was exhausted. It didn’t happen often, but when he was sent out on missions like this where the paranoia and the anxiety of being alone overwhelmed him to the degree of not sleeping for days and keeping Infinity on, it was bad.
He dragged himself from the car, barely remembering to thank the driver and then stumbled his way through the blurry buildings that made up Jujutsu High and somehow found himself at the dorms. He walked past his own room without a second glance, craving the physical touch of another human being. One human being to be specific, and only him.
Everything felt heightened but at the same time he felt so hazy. Gojo didn’t doubt he was running on pure adrenaline and spite at his point, if he was attacked he was sure he would fight back and not remember a single bit of it. That was what his last fight felt like, everything was blurry and hazy like he was underwater and the only thing he could feel was how the blood felt on his hands.
By the time he snapped back to reality, his hand was already on Geto’s door handle, and it was pushed down so he just nudged the door open and was greeted with a sight so wonderful, a sight so welcome after days of no sleeping, darkness and curses, that he almost dropped to his knees and cried right there and then.
He was, frankly, feeling a lot of things right now and he blamed all of them on the exhaustion.
There he was, Geto Suguru, sat on his bed, back against the headboard and a book in his hands. His long hair, hair Gojo loved running his fingers through, tumbled down his back, pulling back from his eyes. He was dressed in something that looked soft and he looked like home.
“Satoru.” Geto breathed, dropping the book. Gojo blinked and Geto was standing in front of him, reaching out only to be met with Infinity. His hands slammed against an invisible force as Gojo blinked at him lazily. “Satoru, you’re home, it’s okay.”
“Su…gu…ru…?” Gojo hadn’t spoken in days other than to thank the driver who brought him back to the school and his voice was achingly hoarse and his throat burned as he spoke. “Did… did I fall asleep?”
“You’re awake.” Geto’s voice was soft, so so soft and dripping with fondness but there was an undertone of concern to it. “You’re not sleeping. Can you put Infinity down?”
“Can’t.” Gojo choked out. “Can’t.” He shook his head, repeating the word. “’S not safe.”
“It’s safe.” Came the ever patient response and Gojo would wonder, when he was more awake and coherent, what good he had done, what god he had pleased in a past life to be blessed with someone as wonderful as Geto who was so patient and so lovely to him when he hadn’t done the slightest thing in this life to deserve it. And Geto would insist that he didn’t need to do anything to deserve this love because it wasn’t conditional, and he gave it freely.
“It’s safe here, Satoru.” Geto said once again. “Nothing’s going to hurt you here, I won’t let it.”
“Curses. I – I have to –“
“You don’t have to do anything. You did your job; you finished your mission. You can rest now.”
“Suguru.” Satoru whispered. “I’m so tired.”
Geto’s face crumpled and his hands wavered, wanting to hug, wanting to provide some comfort but unable to do so. “I know, I know, Satoru. You can rest, put down infinity, let me shoulder some of the burden.”
Geto felt when it dropped, he felt the buzz surrounding Gojo disappear and the slight hue to the taller vanish. Gojo swayed on his feet, and it was all the encouragement Geto needed to take a step closer, bring his hand up to the back of Gojo’s neck and tug his head down so his forehead landed on Geto’s shoulder.
He felt Gojo’s weight sag against him, felt the shuddery breath and heard the shaky exhale. “You run yourself ragged on these missions; you need to sleep.”
“Too risky.” Gojo mumbled into Geto’s shoulder.
“You just think it’s too risky.” Geto matched his volume. “Whatever, it’s too late now. We’ll argue about this later. You need to rest, Satoru.”
“Mhm.” Gojo hummed, unable to even form a proper response. Geto’s heart swelled with unbridled fondness for this boy leaned against him, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age and here he was holding up his weight. It meant more to Geto than Gojo probably even realised.
“Do you want to get changed into something comfier?” Geto whispered, knowing it would probably be a negative on that. Gojo could barely hold himself up, much less get changed into different clothes. The response came in the form of Gojo’s head shaking a no against his shoulder and he huffed out a soft laugh. “Thought so. Come on, bed.”
Gojo let himself be dragged to Geto’s bed, where the darker haired boy nudged him down to lay down and then sat in the same place he had been sitting in before. He tugged Gojo closer and brought his head onto his lap, pulling the covers over him and carding a hand through his soft, white hair. “You can rest, Satoru. I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.”
“I… I know, Suguru. I know.” Gojo breathed out, his exhales soft against the fabric of Geto’s sweatpants. Gojo’s arm was wrapped around Geto’s waist, his hand fisted around something soft, he couldn’t tell in this half-asleep haze he was now in. Everything still felt fuzzy, but he was warm now and the physical touch burned so good.
He squeezed his eyes shut, denying the tears pricking the corners of his eyes and tightened his hold on Geto.
“It’s just me, you know.” Geto murmured.
“I know.” Gojo shuddered, the tears finally slipping through closed eyelids and trickling down in silver streams on his pale cheeks. “Suguru, thank you. Thank you.”
“You never have to thank me, Satoru.” A gentle brush of lips against Gojo’s forehead was the last thing he felt before he drifted into the darkness, feeling so warm, soft and protected, knowing he would wake up more rested than he had been the last few days.