Chapter Text
“Hello. This is a collect call from an inmate, Fushiguro Toji. Do you accept the charges?”
Gojo was frozen. A mixture of shock and fear was coursing through him. He was vaguely aware that his hand was shaking as he held the phone up to his ear. He knew this feeling, had identified it the week before with his therapist. He was on the verge of a panic attack, the trauma of the last year—Hell, the last five years was flooding back at the message delivered by the robotic voice saying Toji’s name.
It felt like all the work he’d done trying to repair his life, trying to repair himself was threatening to collapse around him.
His face must have conveyed his inner turmoil, either that or he hadn’t moved in a while because Geto was sitting up in bed, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Who’s on the phone, Satoru?” he whispered in the dark of the room, his voice firm but wrought with edges of his worry.
Gojo couldn’t make his mind or his mouth work fast enough, it felt like he was on autopilot when he rushed out a harsh “No” into the phone and turned the screen off, flinging his phone onto the side table. He collapsed back onto his pillow, hoping that it wasn’t obvious that his chest was heaving. Geto was still sitting up and leaned over Gojo’s prone form, his eyes searching his boyfriend’s face.
“Who was on the phone?” Geto asked again.
Gojo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and shook his head, “I—it was just a spam call.” He shrugged his shoulders, opening his arms to signal for Geto to come to lay with him.
Geto didn’t look convinced, and for a second Gojo thought he might press the issue further. But, Geto’s expression softened and he rested against Gojo’s chest, his bangs tickling the skin of Gojo’s neck. “Sorry, I just got worried there for a second.” Geto huffed out a nervous chuckle.
Gojo shushed him, rubbing a hand down Geto’s bareback, he listened to the man’s breathing turn steady as he drifted into sleep. Though, Gojo was wide awake. His mind was racing as the reality of what happened was setting in. Toji had called him. Called him from prison, no less.
Why was he contacting Gojo now, after everything that happened? Why would he wait over a year to make his way back into Gojo’s life? How had he even known how to get ahold of Gojo? He was sure he’d erased all existence of his past life, and the thought made him shudder, which made Geto shudder a little bit on top of him. Gojo soothed a hand through his hair, making sure he settled back down.
He felt guilty about not telling Geto the truth, but he was so shaken at the moment, he hadn’t known what to say. It was easier to pretend it wasn’t happening, to ignore it. Yeah, he could do that. It wasn’t like Toji had any connections left, not that he had many in the first place. He’d been all out of luck by the time he’d gone to prison. Everyone—lawyers, the police—had assured Gojo that Toji had no enemies left, no more harm would come against Gojo or his children.
He knew that. He trusted that. Yet, he couldn’t shake the anxiety that quelled in his gut at Toji’s call.
What could he possibly have to say? He hoped it had been a fluke, that Toji wouldn’t try to call again. Toji was an awful, selfish person; Gojo was no stranger to that. He probably knew that better than anyone. Save for the kids, unfortunately.
Still, he couldn’t believe he was surprised that Toji would try another way to make his life a living hell. He raked a hand over his face, pushing his now-sweaty bangs off his forehead. Geto was still snoozing on his chest. Gojo held the man closer to him, pressing his face into Geto’s silky hair and breathing in his scent, grounding himself. Trying to remind himself of where he was, here in his bed with his best friend and boyfriend. Their kids were safe, and sleeping down the hall.
Yeah, he could do that. He could remember that. He focused on that as he forced himself to close his eyes and sink into his pillow.
Gojo dreamt of Geto, a strong and steady presence beside him. They were at the beach, enjoying each other’s company. He could hear Geto laughing and the sound of waves nipping at the shoreline. But suddenly, the peaceful scene changed from a calm, quiet beach into a dark and cloudy storm. Gojo turned to Geto, seeking comfort in his arms, but found that Geto was gone. In his place was Toji, with a wicked grin on his face.
“Did you think you could get away from me that easily, baby?”
Gojo awoke with a scream, his chest heaving. He couldn’t place where he was, still in the limbo between sleep and awake. The room was dark, and he desperately felt around the bed for his phone or anything to light up the room. In his confusion, he sat up in bed, accidentally pushing Geto off his chest.
“Satoru, what’s wrong?” Geto blearily whispered, his voice still thick with sleep.
Gojo tried to find his voice but only uttered out a small sob. At that, Geto seemed to be completely awake, moving to sit next to Gojo against the headboard. He tried again, “Baby, what’s wrong?”
Gojo’s chest was still heaving, his shoulders starting to shake, and he crumpled in on himself, and started to cry. Geto pulled his boyfriend closer to him, situating him against his chest and resting his chin on top of his mused, white head of hair. He didn’t force Gojo to speak, but simply held him through the wave of emotions, calmly whispering, “I’m here, I’m here. You’re safe.”
They stayed like that for what felt like ages, Gojo fighting through the overwhelming emotions inside his body and mind, before Gojo was finally able to calm down. The steady rhythm of Geto’s heart against his chest helped regulate his breathing and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Are you alright?” Geto whispered into the dark of the room when it seemed like Gojo could talk again.
“Yeah—I’m sorry,” Gojo whimpered, hating how his voice was scratchy and still thick with emotion, “It’s stupid, I just had a really bad dream.”
Geto pulled away so his eyes met Gojo’s, he was searching for something in Gojo’s expression. “Are you sure that’s it, baby? You can trust me with anything, you know that, right?”
Gojo nodded but was still feeling vulnerable and weak. He hid his face in Geto’s neck. He knew he couldn’t hide the true reason behind his emotions. It wasn’t fair to him, or Geto. He had to be honest, as difficult as it was. “I—I lied, Suguru.”
Geto didn’t say anything but continued to stroke the small of Gojo’s back. Gojo took a heaving breath, and managed to utter out the words, “Tojicalledmelastnight.”
Geto pulled back, almost like he’d been struck. His eyes were huge in the dark of the room, boring into Gojo’s. Gojo visibly shuddered, it had been a long time since he’d seen Geto look so upset or shaken, probably since their big falling out so many years ago. Geto seemed to realize that he’d frightened Gojo with his reaction and his expression immediately softened, and he hesitantly pulled Gojo close to him again.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. That just surprised me.”
Gojo laughed bitterly, despite himself, but he nestled closer to his boyfriend, desperate for comfort. “What should we do? Are you going to be safe?” Geto whispered, unable to hide the fear and desperation in his voice as he held Gojo closer.
Gojo nodded, “Yeah, I think he was just trying to mess with me. I—I just don’t know how he got my number.”
His boyfriend was silent for a few moments, clearly contemplating something to himself, probably mapping out every outcome that could be gleaned from the situation. “Are—are you sure?” Geto asked warily after what felt like a lifetime. Gojo nodded in the dark of the room, hoping that would be enough to quell Geto’s worries. And worse, hoping that he was right.
Somehow, the two managed to fall back to sleep. Thankfully, things seemed less tense in the light of morning. When Gojo opened his eyes, Geto was laying on his side, looking at him with heavy lids. “Hi,” he whispered, a sheepish smiling tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Hi,” Gojo whispered back, stretching his hand across the bed so he could tangle his fingers in Geto’s sleep-addled hair.
“Are you all right?” Geto asked, eyebrows drawing together, but still leaning into Gojo’s touch.
Gojo nodded, “Yeah, I’m sorry for the scare.”
Geto’s expression softened, “There’s no need to apologize, I just want you to be safe. You promise you’ll tell me—or at least someone—if he tries anything again?” Gojo nodded softly, sniffling a little but he laid back down against Geto’s chest. Feeling incredibly thankful that Geto didn’t say anything further and just pulled the covers up around them.
It would be okay. This was just a fluke, he told himself, and he really, desperately wanted to believe it.
He wasn’t troubled by any more nightmares during the night, much to Gojo’s relief. Still, he ended up waking up earlier than Geto, a rarity for him. He used the opportunity to sneak out of bed and down the hall, quickly making sure the kids were still asleep. He tip-toed to the kitchen and pulled out the ingredients for pancakes, hoping that might be enough to mask the drama of Toji calling him last night and feign some semblance of normal.
Because that’s what Suguru deserved, a mean part of his brain reminded him. Something normal, not like Gojo and all his added baggage.
He tried to push the negative thoughts out of his mind in favor of focusing on making breakfast, and it seemed to work. It was easier to silence the drumming of his thoughts when he was too preoccupied with not burning the pancakes.
The sound of little feet pattering into the kitchen interrupted Gojo’s steady, methodical cooking—Megumi. “Good morning, buddy. Did you sleep well?” Gojo asked.
Megumi doesn’t dignify him with a verbal answer, instead he yawned and smooshed his face against Gojo’s thigh, wrapping his arms around his pajama-clad leg. Not that Gojo minded all that much, and he ruffled the boy’s hair.
“What are you making?” Megumi asked, his voice slightly muffled against Gojo’s leg.
“Pancakes, how does that sound?” Gojo offered, peering down to smile at Megumi.
“It’s good,” Megumi affirmed, before stifling another yawn and cozying up against Gojo again. “Can you add chocolate chips to some?”
Gojo huffed out a laugh and quietly agreed to fulfill the boy’s request.
They stayed like that for a while, Gojo tending to breakfast with Megumi cuddling close to him. As more of the sun peaked through the blinds of the apartment, more children made their way into the kitchen, curious to discover the source of the buttery, sweet scent wafting through the home. By the time Geto made his way into the kitchen, looking all sleepy and relaxed, a line of children has formed around Gojo against the cabinets. Megumi, Tsumiki, Nanako, and Mimiko all watching cautiously as Gojo continues to flip the pancakes with practiced ease.
When Mimiko noticed her father, she abandoned the pancake show in favor of scrambling into Geto’s arms. Geto walked over to the stove with his daughter on his hip and pressed a kiss against Gojo’s exposed shoulder. “You made breakfast?”
With the kiss, Gojo felt a wave of relief wash over him. He worried that things might be tense between him and Suguru, given the intensity of their conversation the night prior, and the ever-looming threat of Toji meddling his way back into Gojo’s life. But if the kiss and aura of domesticity was anything to go by, it seemed that everything was fine between him and Geto. Maybe without the watchful eye of the kids, though, it would be different. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out just yet though, more content to keep up the façade of a happy family on a lazy Saturday morning.
Gojo nodded, sliding the final pancake onto the plate with the others, “You bet. Now, everyone please meet me in the family room.”
With the promise of food—especially a special weekend treat—it doesn’t take much for the kids to follow directions and they quickly rushed to scramble around the coffee table. Despite himself, Gojo frowned at the sight of the kids happily chatting and excitedly waiting for their breakfast, now seated at the coffee table. It should make him happy; he should be focusing on the happiness that clings to the moment, but he’s only feeling guilty that he doesn’t have more to offer the kids. Like a nice, fancy kotatsu that’s big enough to fit the six of them and is all cozy and warm underneath.
He's pulled from his thoughts by two strong arms creeping around his waist and easing the plate of pancakes out of his hands—Geto. “You’re thinking too much,” Geto whispered, pressing a quick kiss to Gojo’s cheek.
Gojo smiled shyly at his boyfriend, blushing just a little bit at being caught in the act of getting lost in the depths of his mind. He managed to shake off the remnants of those gross feelings fast enough, finding a seat next to Geto on the couch. He’s already made a plate for Satoru and was waiting expectantly to offer it to him. Gojo thanked him with a smile and a peck on the lips.
With the sound of the kids all happy and cheerful and excitedly discussing the events of their big outing at the baseball game, it’s easy to forget about the events of the night before. Like earlier, Gojo can pretend that there’s nothing more than this reality. That they’re just a family enjoying the morning together. No baggage, no trauma, or gross memories that creep up in the middle of the night.
Nothing present that might prevent them from flourishing and being happy together.
He's not really sure why he was so caught up on these thoughts, but it’s annoying and frustrating. Because he should be able to enjoy this moment for what it’s worth—a happy, nice moment. Instead, he was focusing on the more negative underlying thoughts, that it could be taken from him at any moment. That he might never be free from the past and all that it entailed for him—hell, for Megumi and Tsumiki, too.
“Should we take the kids into the city, today?” Geto asked, after a few bites of his pancakes, “I’ve been meaning to take the kids to—what’s it called? KidZania? I think my mom told me about when we moved back to the city?”
Gojo hummed in agreement, Shoko’d suggested it a few times, but he never managed to make the trip with Tsumiki and Megumi. He leaned against Geto’s arm and shrugged, “Sounds good to me. Hey, what do you guys think? Wanna be adults for a day?”
The kids look confused for a moment before Geto rolled his eyes and explained the concept of the possible outing to them. After that, they’re extremely excited at the prospect of something fun and different. As if they haven’t experienced more fun in the last couple of weeks with the beach trip, baseball game, and all the other little events sprinkled in there, Gojo mused to himself. Still, Gojo understood, the kids are officially on their summer break for the next month or so; they deserve a little something extra to celebrate.
They took a bus into the city, but not before Geto slathered the children in layers of sunscreen. Gojo can’t help but laugh, citing that they’re going to be inside for most of the day, but Geto disagreed, with the argument that you can never be too careful. He’s such a dad sometimes, it’s so endearing (and a little bit funny).
Unsurprisingly, the kids had a blast at the children’s museum, and they’re all old enough that Geto and Gojo get to watch from the sidelines as the kids jump from job to job and pretend to be little adults. By the end of the day, the four of them are positively tuckered out, eyes drooping and tiny bodies slouching on the bus ride back to Gojo’s apartment.
It’s almost an unspoken routine, as Geto and Gojo each take two of the sleepy children in their arms and into the apartment. Working quietly, yet side by side, to coax their half-awake kids into pajamas and night-time routines, before finally tucking them into their respective beds or futons. With the simplicity and the ease of it all, Gojo’s heart was all warm and fuzzy. Everything felt so right like it was always supposed to be this way.
Gojo felt silly for harping so much on not being able to offer something more “normal” for the kids and for Geto and even for himself so much earlier that morning. He knew that what they had was special, and it worked for them, and that’s what counted. He was working to heal from his past—and he hoped that one day he might be able to put the chapter of his life that was dominated by Toji Fushiguro out of his head.
It would be okay.
These thoughts—that it was all right—were only furthered when Geto and Gojo tumbled into each other’s arms later that night, expressing their feelings for each other with soft kisses and gentle touches. Basking in Geto’s arm in the afterglow of their passion, Suguru snoring softly against his back, Gojo found that he really wasn’t thinking so much about the phone call from Toji. It was probably a fluke like he’d thought originally. He could call his lawyer, or his assigned case manager if he started to feel unsafe.
He told himself it would be okay, as he started to drift off to sleep. Sleep, however, was interrupted by his phone vibrating on the side table, and his eyes shot wide-open. He scrambled to grab the phone and his heart sunk when he recognized the number—the same one that called the night prior, collect call from inmate Toji Fushiguro.
Dread coiled in his belly, but Gojo quickly slammed his finger on the red button and declined the call. Suguru stirred a little against his back and his voice was sleepy and slurred when he whispered, “Who was that?”
Gojo paused for a moment, weighing his options carefully in his head. If he was honest, then he wouldn’t be wronging his boyfriend, he’d promised to tell him if Toji contacted him again. Though it was probably another fluke, and it wasn’t like his ex-husband could do much from behind bars and with all the restraining orders and protections Gojo’d secured for himself and the kids. He didn’t want to worry Geto, too—but fuck this was hard. Despite it all, he panicked, and he lied, “Just a spam call, go back to sleep, baby.”
Geto hummed and it was obvious by the rise and fall of his chest against Gojo’s back that he’d fallen back to sleep. Gojo wished he could say the same, but he was wide awake now with an awful feeling turning in his belly.
He willed that this would be the last phone call, that Toji would leave him alone for good.
To Gojo’s surprise, that mindset seemed to work. Well, for the most part.
The kids were officially on summer break and Gojo had already received permission to work from home months ago to stay home with Megumi and Tsumiki, as well as Nanako and Mimiko. Gojo offered to watch the twins for Geto, so he didn’t have to find childcare. Gojo convinced him that it would be a waste of money when he could just add the two to his brood. Anyways, this new situation wasn’t that different from their usual set-up, as the meshing of their families started to become the norm. In fact, it was rarer for Geto and Gojo—and their respective children—to be apart nowadays. So, it all worked out better than expected.
The only difference was that Gojo was working and watching the kids from Geto’s apartment, instead of his own, shabbier place of living. Geto’s place was way nicer after all, and the kids had more space to play when Gojo actually needed to work. Gojo, Megumi, and Tsumiki had practically moved into Geto’s apartment, and it always tugged at Gojo’s heart to see the little pieces of the life they were building together.
Like the six pairs of shoes lining the entrance of the apartment, instead of the usual three Gojo’d grown used to seeing. Art on the fridge that now included works signed by Megumi and Tsumiki, next to the drawings of the twins. And now, Gojo’s toothbrush was permanently next to Geto’s in his bathroom. There was even talk of buying a set of bunk beds for the kids’ room. Albeit they were little things that would probably go unnoticed to an untrained eye, still they meant so much to Gojo because they all added up to something more permanent. That he and Suguru had a future together, and they fit together so well.
The only downside to this set-up was Gojo’s newfound responsibility as Puppy Trainer for the Evil Puppy Sukuna. Despite their increased time together, the dog was still not fond of Gojo, taking every opportunity to nip at the leg of his pants or tear into his paperwork when he wasn’t paying attention.
Though, it was worth it to put up with the little hellion, because, with their new living situation, Gojo got to welcome home Geto each day after he returned from work. It was like they were a real family, Gojo and the kids all rushing to greet Suguru at the door each evening, with the promise of dinner laid out on the table. Each night, Gojo crawled into bed next to Geto and the two shared kisses and talked over their days and laughed about silly things they’d seen on Twitter or that the kids said.
He felt luckier than he ever had before, and he couldn’t deny the fact that he loved every second of his “new life.”
Every couple of days, however, around the same time of night, Gojo’s phone would ring with a now-familiar number lighting up the screen. A collect call from inmate Toji Fushiguro. By now, the number was burned into his brain, always seeming to call around the same time, and it was always met with the same response—declined. Yet, that same number kept calling without fail.
With each passing day, these unsolicited phone calls were starting to really bother Gojo, and he found himself getting increasingly anxious as the days pressed on. But he refused to answer—he didn’t want to hear what Toji had to say. He was doing so much work to break out of the chains Toji shackled him in during their marriage. Therapy was helping so much, and so was Geto, and his unwavering support and continued love that he bestowed upon Gojo each day. He even found that he was trying new hobbies again, too. He’d picked up the violin after years away, which he never thought would happen—but it was fun, and he enjoyed playing for the kids and even teaching them a few cords.
Megumi and Tsumiki were doing so much better and on track to “graduate” from their weekly play therapy sessions. The last time he took them to see Dr. Yoshino, the therapist declared that the two were making incredible strides, so much more well-adjusted than their first meeting. And Gojo could see the evidence of that too in their daily lives. Megumi had fewer nightmares and was less clingy with Gojo. Well, he still demanded love and hugs from Gojo, not because he was scared or anxious, but because he just wanted to be closer to his parent. Tsumiki was calmer, too—more confident. She’d even gone away to a few sleepovers during the summer break, and Gojo was so proud of her. So proud of both his kids.
Sometimes he’d find his finger hovering over the green answer button, just because a part of him wanted to know what his piece of shit ex had to say to him. How much more damage could he inflict at this point?
The worst part was the constant reminder that he was lying to Geto, too. That part was the hardest part to deal with because Suguru was so important to him, and he never wanted to do anything to upset him or put him in harm’s way. He’d promised Geto that he’d tell him if Toji reached out again, but he hadn’t done that at all. Instead, he turned his phone on “do not disturb” before bed each night, just to make sure the ringer didn’t blare when they were trying to sleep and ignored the persistent calling of Toji Fushiguro.
Gojo was fine with continuing this way. Just hoping, praying, pleading that this would all stop, that he’d finally be free of this man. Or rather, just pretending that it wasn’t happening, because he really fucking liked the way things were right now, and he didn’t want that to change. It seemed like ignoring it was helping because he’d gone one week without a phone call, and was silently holding out hope that it was all over.
Objectively, everything was going much better than it had been a couple of months ago, before Geto and the twins entered the lives of Gojo and the kids. But that certainly didn’t mean that every day was perfect, and without a mishap or two (or three, or four, or ten). On this particular Wednesday, Gojo’s nerves were especially frayed. It just seemed like everything was going wrong, no matter how hard he tried.
The day started with the A/C going out, and it was no fun to start the day dealing with a less-than-enthusiastic maintenance man before noon. It was worse to receive news that the problem wouldn’t be fixed until later in the day. So, Gojo was stuck with four kids that were sticky, sweaty, and ornery. Gojo set up a sprinkler so they could play in the grassy area behind the apartment, but that endeavor only lasted for less than an hour before the four were clinging onto Gojo and demanding a new activity. No matter what activity Gojo tried to orchestrate, the children were left unsatisfied and grumpy. The apartment was still hot as hell, even with every fan on high, and directed towards the family room.
Tsumiki put it perfectly when she cried out, “Gojo, this is awful.”
He couldn’t agree more.
By three o’clock, Gojo’d dealt with tantrums from each of the usually lovely children and broken up a handful of fights. He didn’t blame the kids because their conditions were awful right now, but it would have definitely been easier if they were a little more compliant. And usually, he could handle this sort of behavior, but he also was battling a hard deadline with work, and it was difficult to juggle both sides of his life at the same time, while also sweating out of his skin.
On top of that, the puppy also thought it would be the perfect time to shit on the carpet, so he’d spent a good thirty minutes scrubbing the stain out.
Now, Gojo was trying his best to make dinner, but the task was incredibly difficult because Megumi was at his side sobbing uncontrollably. His head was aching, and he could feel sweat dripping down places he’d rather not think about right now, but Gojo forced himself to stay calm, “Megumi, I know you’re upset, but I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”
“I don’t want stir-fry,” the boy sobbed out and it took everything in Gojo to not roll his eyes at the display.
“I’m sorry that you’re not happy with our dinner plans, but I’m making macaroni and cheese too, you like that, don’t you?” This did little to assuage the boy, however, and he continued with his shrill crying.
Gojo sighed, turning both burners off now that dinner was nearly ready, and turned his attention to Megumi. He scooped the boy into his arms, letting him hide his face against Gojo’s neck. “Are you feeling mad ‘cuz it’s so hot?”
He could feel Megumi nodding his head, breaths evening out, much to Gojo’s relief. This reprieve, however, was short-lived because he heard screaming coming from the living room. Nanako and Mimiko were both sobbing. “What’s wrong, girls?”
“They don’t want to watch my show,” Tsumiki pipped up, crossing her arms, and looking very displeased.
“Yeah, because Tsumiki stole the remote from me,” Nanako wailed.
“Only ‘cuz you did it first!” Tsumiki retorted, betrayal evident on her face.
Gojo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “All right, if we aren’t being nice to each other and can’t agree on something, we’re going to have to take a break from watching television.”
This was the last thing Gojo wanted to do because at least the television was capturing their attention and letting him get shit done, but that was the joy of parenting—doing things you didn’t want to do for the good of your kids. Understandably, turning off the television was the last thing the kids wanted and Gojo was met with a resounding crowd of wails and shouts of No. He knew they were just tired, they were just hot, and that this was all coming after an incredibly long day, so he wasn’t surprised when the kids gave up their fight pretty quickly and sought comfort from Gojo instead. All fighting for a space on his lap, which certainly didn’t help the problem of being hot, but at least they weren’t wailing as loudly now.
Of course, as Gojo’s luck would have it, this was the sight Geto was met with when he arrived home from work, certainly not the happy family he was used to.
“Oh my, God. It’s hot in here,” were the first words out of his mouth, and Gojo could’ve screamed. He placed his hands on his hips as he noted the sight of four wailing children clinging on to Gojo, “What happened here?”
“It’s hot,” Mimiko cried out from the pile of children on Gojo’s lap, and Geto had the nerve to laugh!
“We’ve had a long day,” Gojo sighed, trying to convey everything he was feeling through a pleading look. Geto smiled back at him, looking hopelessly fond, and that almost made the rough day worth it.
Well, maybe it would’ve if things continued with an upwards slope, but that really was not the case. The air came on like right after Geto got home, but even that wasn’t enough to make up for how hot and exhausted the kids were, so their situation didn’t improve much. Megumi still cried about his dinner of stir-fry, and the girls were still holding a grudge against each other over the remote incident. So, the two men were left wrangling their miserable children through their bedtime routine at the end of the day.
All in all, the long day was wearing on Gojo, and he was just really fucking tired. Geto must’ve noticed, because he gently touched his shoulder as he was doling out toothpaste for the kids, and whispered, “Hey, why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ve got it from here.”
Gojo nodded, feeling a little bit relieved, and said good night to the kids. He hurried through washing his face and brushing his teeth, all too eager to get into bed, even if he felt like an old man going to sleep before his kids. Still, he pulled on his sleep mask and crawled under the covers.
It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes of lying there in the dark, but he was already drifting off to sleep when his phone started blaring. He groaned loudly, blindly feeling around the bedside table for the stupid device. He managed to grab the thing and held it to his ear, “Yes?” he groaned out blearily, without even thinking about it.
You’ve accepted the charges, an automated voice droned on the other end of the phone, and Gojo felt fear coiling inside of him, like it was chocking him out.
He sat up in bed, throwing his eye mask aside, and screamed into his phone. “What the fuck? No, no—I don’t accept.”
It was too late, though.
“Hey, baby. Is that you?” That familiar, ugly, and gruff voice grumbled on the other side of the phone, making Gojo freeze in place. Every awful memory of the time he spent with that man flooded back into his head. Five years of it all.
“What the fuck do you want, Toji?” Satoru tore off his eye mask and spit out, hating how unhinged and weak he sounded. Was he playing into Toji’s game with such a big reaction?
“I just called because I want you to remember who you belong to, sweetheart,” Toji bit back, and Satoru could swear he heard the spit in his words, even threw the phone. Gojo was too much in shock to even find the words to reply.
“A little birdy told me that you’ve been acting like a slut all over town. Parading your new boyfriend everywhere? In front of my kids, too? Tsk, tsk… you always were such a naughty, slutty boy.”
“Who the fuck told you that?” Gojo seethed.
“I have my sources—but maybe you should be careful where you send my kids to school. Their cousins say hi by the way,”he laughed, almost sounding a little maniacal.
Gojo felt his stomach drop. Somehow, with those words, it all clicked into place. He suddenly remembered where he’d heard the name Zen’in before—and not just the Zen’in twins at the baseball game the other day. No, Zen’in as in the last name Toji was born with before he took his first wife’s last name—he was always Toji Zen’in before that. Gojo wanted to barf. How was he just remembering now?
“Are you just remembering now? My poor baby was never much good at remembering the important stuff, huh?” Toji laughed.
“Fuck you,” Gojo spit back, teeth grinding together.
“I should be saying that to you, doll. You’re the one who broke our wedding vows,” Toji tsk-ed again, “I always knew that long-haired fucker had the hots for you. Tell me, do you let him fuck you? Are you being a slut for him now?” Gojo saw red at that statement.
“I can’t wait to get out of this hell hole so I can punish you—remind you who you belong to.”
Something came over Gojo at the sound of those words—remind you who you belong to. He didn’t belong to Toji, not anymore. He was done with the pain the man had inflicted on him and the kids, and he was never going to let it happen again. He was tired of it holding him hostage and keeping him from living his life. Maybe when he was younger, or weaker, he would’ve fallen for Toji’s games, let him rope him back in with his words and promises. But he knew what he deserved now, knew what he wanted out of life.
He wouldn’t allow this to continue any longer. He couldn’t.
So, he screamed into the phone, “No, no, no. I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but I’m done. I’m so done with you. You think you can scare me, but you have no hold on me anymore. You’ve got nothing on me—or the kids—nothing legally at least. You signed it all away in case you forgot. You can rot in that fucking cell for all I care, but you are never going to disrupt the lives of these kids—or hell, mine, too—ever again. I will make sure of it. And if you try, I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again. Got it? But just know, I’m done with you—I’m stronger than you are now.”
He didn’t wait for a response, Gojo hung up the phone without a second thought, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He could feel his blood thrumming underneath his skin, but now that his head was a little clearer, he couldn’t mistake the feeling of eyes watching him.
He turned slowly and made eye contact with Geto, standing in the doorframe of the bedroom. The expression on his face was somewhere between hurt, angry, and shocked. Gojo liked to think that he knew his friend and lover very well at this point, but even he couldn’t figure out exactly what the man was conveying with that look on his face.
“How—how much did you hear?” Gojo whispered, dread coiling in his stomach and spreading throughout his body.
“Is the second time he’s called you, Satoru?” Geto pressed, not answering Gojo’s question directly, but his voice sounded unsure like he was afraid to find out the answer.
“I—, I… well, no?” Gojo stuttered, diverting his eyes from Suguru’s intense stare. His brain was still a little clouded from the conversation with Toji and not working the way he needed it to. His heart was pounding in his chest.
“No?” Geto repeated, and Gojo felt himself start to crumble a little, and he hesitated, not sure what to say next. “Just tell me, Satoru.” Geto sounded tired, resigned almost.
Gojo squeezed his eyes shut, then threw a hand over his face, because it didn’t feel like enough to protect him from the disappointed expression that was sure to cross Geto’s face once he learned the truth. “He’s—well, he’s been calling me every couple of days.”
“Since when?”
Gojo’s chest heaved out a shaky breath as he spoke, caught in his lies, “Since the first time.” He winced, old habits ingrained in him and waiting for Suguru to explode or bite back with something mean.
He was expecting Suguru to get mad, or to lash out at him. It was probably what Satoru deserved, especially for lying to him, and all. He’d been lying for weeks now.
When nothing happened, he cracked open a hesitant eye to examine his boyfriend’s features.
What he found was surprising, he was just met with Geto staring back at him. He looked upset—maybe a little disappointed, but mostly just sad and his arms were crossed over his torso. The man squeezed his eyes shut and it was obvious he was trying to control his breathing.
“I’m sorry—I, I just need a minute,” Geto sighed out shakily and turned to head out the bedroom door.
His movement spurred Gojo into action. Before he could even think about it, he was chasing after his boyfriend, grasping at his arm, “Please, please, don’t leave me Suguru. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleaded.
Geto paused, letting out another controlled breath, “I’m not leaving, Satoru. I just—I just need a second to think, I promise I’ll be right back.” He turned and hugged Satoru close to his chest for a second, “I’ll be back, I promise,” he said again before exiting the room.
He watched Geto leave the room, with his feet frozen in place. As soon as Geto’s back left his view, Satoru broke down. His chest was heaving with broken sobs, and he couldn’t help but collapse back onto the bed as he worked through his emotions. Everything was too much right now, and he wished Suguru was with him to hold him through it all, but he’d hurt Suguru. He’d hurt him again—for the second time in their relationship, friendship included. Toji was at the center of it again, too.
His brain was supplying him with a lot of negative memories right now. A lot of them associated with Toji, but the ones that felt most prevalent, more salient involved Suguru. But there was really only one negative one starring him, but right now it mattered more than anything related to Toji. He was reminded of their first fight—the fight that broke their friendship and cast them apart for so many years.
He and Suguru hadn’t really been talking all that much in the months leading up to their falling out, but they still considered each other as best friends. At least Satoru did, for sure. It happened just after Satoru accepted Toji’s wedding proposal—or well, his pleading that he didn’t have anywhere else to turn after his wife died, had no one to help him raise his kids. But Gojo had only heard the promise of a family—of belonging. Suguru agreed to meet up with him, to talk things out, or to catch up—something like that.
“You—you’re marrying him?” Suguru had whispered, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and eyes looking anywhere except for Satoru’s eyes.
“I don’t—I don’t expect you to understand, but yeah—I am,” Satoru had responded. He’d felt so sure at the time like he knew everything and everyone else was blind to reality. He felt like he knew everything there was to know at his wise age of twenty-three. If only he’d known how wrong, he was.
“I just—I don’t understand,” Suguru shook his head, looking so confused. “Why are you doing this? Seriously, be reasonable, Satoru. We’re still kids—you’re barely out of college!”
“Like I said, I don’t expect you to—, but he makes me happy,” Satoru reassured, he’d believed it at the time, too. “This is something that I need to do. If you—If you can’t understand that I’m sorry. But this is just what I have to do, right now.”
“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t,” Suguru whispered, still looking anywhere except for Satoru’s eyes.
“You can’t? Why not,” Satoru heaved out, feeling like his heart was being torn from his chest. He gave Suguru the out, but he never expected him to actually take it, or that he’d ever lose his best friend. Losing Suguru was like losing his right arm—he’d never be balanced without him.
At last, Suguru had finally looked into his eyes, “You really don’t know? For real?” Satoru shook his head, and Suguru scoffed bitterly, eyes looking sad.
No other words were said between the two, Satoru wasn’t even sure what to say to bridge the gap that had opened between them. Suguru turned away from Satoru for good, at least for the moment, disappearing into the crowd and leaving Satoru standing there all alone with his new reality laid out for him.
It kind of felt like that now. Well, sort of.
They were adults now—Geto and Gojo—and they knew how the other felt, even if they hadn’t said love you explicitly, Gojo was sure that the feeling was there, in every moment between the two of them.
His time alone, weeping in bed and terrified of what might happen next, seemed to stretch on for far too long. He was growing antsy; he couldn’t keep waiting and not doing anything. He knew Geto told him to wait, and that he’d be back, but Gojo couldn’t just sit and wait when there was a chance that it might be the end of Satoru and Suguru once again. It felt like he was on autopilot as he raised his body off the bed and shuffled down the hallway. There was no sign of Geto anywhere in the dark apartment, and this finding terrified Gojo. He searched around the apartment, looking for any sign that the man had left, but his keys and shoes were all still there, but this did little to calm Gojo down.
Just when he was about to get up, a flicker of light from the porch caught his eye. Geto was there, sitting in one of the patio chairs with a lit cigarette between his lips. He looked lost in thought, just staring out at the patch of grass behind the apartment.
Feeling guilty, Gojo opened the sliding door to the patio. Geto’s eyes flicked up to look at Gojo, his expression was calm but seemingly unreadable. Or maybe, Satoru was too worked up to figure it out right now.
“Do you want me to leave?” Gojo whispered, looking away because he was kind of scared to hear the answer.
“I don’t want you to leave, Satoru,” Geto whispered back, taking another drag of his cigarette.
Gojo was surprised by those words, he was sure that Geto would be completely done with him after finding out the truth that Gojo’d kept from him. “Are—are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Geto nodded slowly, then gestured towards Gojo, arms open, “Come here, baby.”
Relief washed over Gojo, and he rushed towards Geto, he sat in his lap and threw his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders. He was weeping against Geto’s neck and whimpering, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Suguru. Please, I’m so sorry.”
Geto was gentle with him, stroking his free hand down Gojo’s back, “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s okay, Satoru.”
Gojo pulled away so he could look into Geto’s eyes. He shook his head vehemently, “It’s not—it’s not okay.”
Geto put his cigarette out, so he could wrap both arms around Gojo’s waist. “Shh, I’m sorry, I had to walk away for a second to think, I didn’t want to say something I would regret.”
Gojo whimpered, “Are you mad at me?”
If Toji was here, in place of Geto, he would’ve said Gojo was acting crazy right now—being insane and just being too much overall. He had said it many times over the course of their relationship. Now that he had several weeks of therapy under his belt, Satoru could see that his actions were his defense mechanisms, a remnant of the trauma and emotional abuse he’d faced for years as Toji’s husband. He’d grown used to a relationship that was resting on an unsteady foundation. He never knew when love would be given or taken away because the signs were everchanging and unpredictable.
He knew better than to expect this same sort of behavior, or relationship, from Suguru. Suguru cared about him, even when he wasn’t his best when he was moody and weepy. He didn’t have to worry about Suguru taking love away from him like Toji did because Suguru didn’t play those sorts of games. He was honest and kind-hearted and communicated what he needed without any barriers or mind tricks. He was a good man and an even better father. And Gojo loved him, he was sure of it.
Geto smiled softly and genuinely, “I’m not mad at you. I was just worried, and I think hearing you on the phone with Fushiguro scared me a little bit—brought back old, bad memories for me. But I know better. I know that I love you and that you’re mine.”
Gojo was prepared to explain himself—to explain his reasonings for lying about the phone calls. He was ready to apologize and seek forgiveness for his actions. But those words—I know that I love you—halted his entire thought process. He stuttered, “You love me?”
Of course, at his core, Gojo knew this was true, and knew that he loved Geto, too. But hearing it first-hand was a whole different story.
Geto blanched, “I—I, I’m—yes. Yes, I love you, Satoru. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember.”
Despite all the emotions he was feeling, it was easy for Gojo to muster up a smile. He leaned closer to kiss Geto softly, then pulled away to whisper, “I love you, too.”
A wide smile broke across Geto’s face, and he kissed Gojo again, this time a little harder and a little lewder. It was easy to get lost in the kiss, to forget about the world outside of Suguru and Satoru, but Gojo knew he still had amends to make. He couldn’t let his mishap go unnoticed and unaccounted for, just because they got caught up in each other’s love confessions. He was tired of pushing things under the carpet, he needed to face things even if it was difficult.
He pulled away from Geto’s lips, “But seriously, I’m sorry for not telling you when Toji kept calling. I didn’t want to believe it was true, I didn’t want to think about him anymore. Things were just going so well, and I didn’t want to ruin it. But I wasn’t thinking, and I should’ve told you. I didn’t even mean to answer, but I—well, I’m just sorry for keeping it from you.”
Geto nodded, “You shouldn’t have kept it from me, but I understand where you’re coming from. He’s caused you a lot of pain in ways that I will never be able to understand. I just—I just want you to feel like you can talk to me—that you can trust me.”
“I do trust you,” Gojo reassured, grasping Geto’s face in his hands, “I swear I do, it’s just—things were so hard for a while, and then when we started dating everything was suddenly so great. I just—I wanted to ignore the bad stuff for a while, but I never meant to hurt you, and I don’t want to lie to you again.”
“So, then we won’t do that anymore, we'll be honest with each other, always,” Geto said, “I know things kind of moved fast between us, but I love you, and I love what we have. I love this little—well, I guess not so little—family we’re building together. I want us to be partners, even when it’s hard. Do you think we can do that?”
Gojo nodded, feeling tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “Yes, we can. I promise we can.”
Geto kissed him again, all soft and sweet. Gojo couldn’t remember ever feeling so loved and cared for and happy at any other point in his life. They talked more about what they needed to do come morning. For starters, they needed to call Gojo’s lawyer and his caseworker to make sure that Toji wouldn’t bother them anymore. Objectively, these were scary topics to discuss, but with Geto’s strong arms around him and his steady presence next to him, it didn’t feel all that scary. There was no added horror of possibly losing Geto when times were tough because Gojo knew that the man loved him—loved all of him—and he loved him back.
That was more than enough to fit the negative feelings that tended to follow Satoru around.
When the conversation quieted, out of nowhere, Geto laughed a little and shook his head with a pout, “I wanted to wait—I wanted to tell you in a special way.” When Gojo gave him a confused look, he clarified, “I wanted to tell you that I love you in a special way. A grand gesture or something.”
Gojo shook his head, feeling light and happy, “You’re special enough as you are, Suguru. What we have is special enough on its own.”
Geto squeezed him tight and pressed a kiss to his forehead. They stayed outside for a little longer, enjoying the nice summer night. But eventually, Geto ushered him off his lap and led them back inside. They curled under the covers of their bed, feeling incredibly grateful that they had each other, but maybe even a little more grateful that A/C was working at its full capacity.
“I love you, Suguru,” Gojo whispered into the dark bedroom.
There was no fear that Geto wouldn’t respond, but it still made his heart soar when his partner whispered those same words back. “I love you, Satoru.”
The two were set to fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, but the sound of knocking on the bedroom door made them stir a little. When the door opened, four little figures were waiting in the hallway. Tsumiki was the first to speak, “Can we sleep in your room tonight?”
Of course, Suguru and Satoru agreed, quickly making room for the brood of children to join them. Gojo was a little anxious to find out the truth when he asked his son, who was currently cuddled close to his chest, “Did you guys have nightmares?”
The room was dark, but Gojo could see the smile on Megumi’s face, “No, we just wanted to sleep with you and Geto, is all.” Megumi wavered for a second, before surging forward to wrap his arms around Gojo, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Megumi,” Gojo whispered back, heart feeling so full and complete. From there, a chorus of I Love You erupted from the children, and from their parents as well. He caught sight of Geto’s eyes from across the head of their children and he saw his lover smiling widely at him, looking so full of love and endearment. Gojo knew his face was exuding something similar.
A decade ago, if Satoru Gojo had been asked to picture his life at twenty-eight, he most certainly would have described his future as lavish.
Back then, he would have described lavish as absolute bliss and luxury, with all his wishes accounted for and nothing out of reach.
In a way, he had achieved that goal, that vision of his future though maybe not in the way his twenty-year-old self would’ve imagined.
But with his arms full of children and lying close to the one and only love of his life, Satoru Gojo wouldn’t have described his current life as anything other than lavish.