Chapter Text
“And, that’s all for today.”
Yuuji tapped his notes for the class on his desk. The three he had this year were exceptional in every regard—Intelligent, naturally gifted, and hard workers, as much as they all tried to hide it. Soon, they would learn that there was nothing shameful in giving it your all. There was nothing shameful in admitting you didn’t know the answer, and there was certainly nothing shameful about enjoying the pleasures of youth.
If you asked him who his favorite was, Yuuji would say that he didn’t play favorites, but he knew the answer was Satoru. Of course he thought about Suguru and Shoko, too, but when you asked about his students, he would think of Satoru. He tried to cover it up, but worried it might be a bit too obvious.
Yuuji shoved his hands into his pockets, clutching the folder to his waist with his elbow. As he walked down the empty wooden hallway, he heard desperate steps getting closer.
“Wait, Ita-sen!”
Stopping and turning his head, Yuuji saw Satoru there, clearly having run as fast as he could to catch up. “What’s up, Satoru-kun?”
Satoru stared at him for a moment, blinking widely, before correcting his posture, and wiping his lip with the back of his hand. It looked like he was preparing himself for something. Yuuji wondered what it was going to be this time. Last time he had come for office hours was to gloat about the grade his literature teacher gave him on his essay. Yuuji was a bit ashamed that he encouraged it.
“So um,” Satoru hesitated, and Satoru rarely hesitated. “Whatcha’ doing tonight?”
“I have a meeting, then I was going to hit the gym for some training.” Now, Yuuji frowned, glancing around Satoru’s back to see if Suguru and Shoko were back there giggling, but it was just Yuuji and him. “After that, I’ll probably make some dinner, maybe watch a movie after I’m done grading your reports.”
Yuuji tried to read his expression, but all he saw were two glossy, very opaque circles.
“Can I tag along?”
“Can you…” Alright, this absolutely was a prank. Squinting, Yuuji glared out the window for Suguru and Shoko. They weren’t there.
“I mean, for dinner,” Satoru clarified, placing a hand on his hip. “Once you’re done with work and training and like, whatever else you want to do.”
Yuuji raked his brain for what this could be about. It definitely wasn’t his grades, because Satoru was exceptional in that regard (he was exceptional in every regard), and Yuuji couldn’t exactly give him advice on his cursed technique, so it had to be something that Yuuji could handle. Did something happen on his mission? He had a solo mission the other day.
Yuuji took a moment to look at Satoru again. His shoulders were hiked up high, like he was feeling awkward, and the bottom of his lip was curling in, like he was biting it. Was he nervous? Maybe something happened and he wanted someone he could trust to talk to about it. Why not Suguru? Was there something happening between the two of them? Maybe it wasn’t related to the mission at all. Maybe Satoru wanted someone who was a role model to talk to about it. A role model? Itadori Yuuji? Ryomen Sukuna’s vessel? He almost wanted to laugh.
“I can take you out somewhere. I’ll pay. You know I’m a Gojo, right? I love spending my parent’s money, it’s not a probl—”
“Alright.”
Satoru took a moment, probably just processing everything. “Oh?” A big smile. His glasses slid down his nose, and those pearly blues shimmered against the sunlight. “Great! You have my phone number, right? Just text me when you want me to come over.”
Satoru was right, teachers at Jujutsu Tech were given student’s phone numbers in case of an emergency on a mission. A part of Yuuji wondered how Satoru knew this, as luckily, he’d never had to use it for him. Yuuji supposed that he could stretch the definition of “emergency” just a bit for this. He looked up at Satoru and saw that cheeky grin, but Yuuji knew better. Satoru was hard to read, and not by accident. That body had been trained well, that mind put through stressors and rigors that Yuuji could only hope to imagine for someone so young. He could empathize with it, as he too had been put through unimaginable trials as a teen.
“Sure, it’ll probably be at around 7, is that okay?”
“Not a problem,” Satoru said, and the afternoon light flooded the room, the sky behind him appearing drab against such a face.
“Go easy on yourself, alright, Satoru-kun?”
Satoru just laughed. “Sure, sensei.”
…
Yuuji received a text a couple hours later, showing him that Satoru had somehow already gotten his number. Honestly, he wasn’t even surprised. Apparently, he had already booked a reservation for the two of them, and was about to hire one of his family’s personal chauffeurs to take them there, but Yuuji quickly dismissed that, insisting that he could just drive them himself. Something about the Gojo extended family set him off, and he had only met his mother once. He didn’t want to ever make eye-contact with that woman again.
Like he said, he spent another hour on work, and was blown away by the level of detail he, Suguru, and Shoko all put into their reports. Yuuji felt a bit guilty that he wasn’t like that when he was a kid. He remembered Yaga practically beating his head in when he called the curse “an octopus-thingy,” but here Suguru had detailed illustrations, Shoko had anatomical write-ups, and Satoru detailed processes on how he figured out an opponent’s weak points and how to use his environment to his advantage. He always made it look so easy, Satoru did. He always made it look like he wasn’t thinking about anything, but Yuuji knew better. He saw how hard he worked. Even if he was the only one in the world, Itadori Yuuji would be proud of Satoru.
“How are you?” Yuuji asked as Satoru opened the backseat door to his car. Turning around, Yuuji laughed, “You can sit in the front, you know.”
The back door slammed closed, and Yuuji watched as Satoru opened up the one to his left, getting in the passenger’s seat. He was dressed a little differently than he normally was—Thinner glasses, what must have been a designer jacket. “I’m doing fine, thank you.”
He sat with his legs crossed and his neck was arched down low, but he was glancing over at Yuuji.
“Do you mind giving me directions?”
Satoru blinked at him, and Yuuji could see the top line of his white eyelashes. “Sure.”
…
Yuuji should have known. He should have known that it was going to be somewhere luxurious. He had the menu seated between his fingertips, and he was glaring at the price tags like they were going to gouge a hole in his chest. Frankly, he felt underdressed, having only just changed out of his gymwear into something casual, and he had already realized why Satoru had put on something nicer, although a part of him assumed he always dressed like that outside of school.
“Do you want anything to drink, sensei?”
Leaning forwards, Yuuji swiped the alcohol menu out from Satoru’s hands. Satoru pouted at him. Yuuji thought it was cute. “I’m driving you home, absolutely not.”
Now, Satoru picked up the menu for food, holding it close to his face and slumping across the tablecloth. “What about oysters? We can get a couple appetizers if you want.”
“Do you even like oysters?” Yuuji asked, cocking a brow.
There was a beat of silence, and then the front page of the menu dropped onto the rest. “Not really.”
After a couple minutes of silence, the waitress came by. Yuuji ordered water, and Satoru a shirley temple.
“So um,” Yuuji started, feeling a bit awkward. “Is there something you wanted to talk about Satoru-kun?”
Satoru placed his elbows on the table, resting his chin against his fist. Leaning forward, he took a sip of his drink, looking directly into Yuuji’s eyes the entire time. “Not really.”
Alright, so he wanted to play this game. Yuuji could handle that. It was difficult opening up to your mentors, Yuuji understood that.
“Can I call you Yuuji?”
He frowned. The thought felt uncomfortable. “Ita-sen wasn’t casual enough for you?”
Satoru rolled his eyes before taking another sip from his straw. “Of course you’d say that, Ita-sen.”
They made a little bit of small talk, just about Satoru’s family, just a little bit about things going on at school, and they ordered food.
“Did your mission go well the other day? You still have a little time before your report is due.”
“Kinda boring, if I’m being real,” Satoru said, and the waitress placed a salad covered in fruit and a sickeningly colored red vinaigrette in front of him. Not once did he look away from the spot in front of him. “Easy peasy, wiped the floor with them.”
“Thank you,” Yuuji said, glancing up at the waitress. He ordered the tonkatsu, as it was cheap and he needed protein. It felt a little wrong to order something like that at a place like this, but it made Yuuji feel more comfortable. “But I heard it was in Tohoku. Iwate, right?” Close to Sendai. Close to home. “That’s quite the trip. I know you and Suguru-kun usually go together, so it must have been lonely.”
Satoru hesitated, then shoved some lettuce into his mouth. “No, it was fine. The train ride was long, though.”
Yuuji laughed. “I know that, at least.”
Satoru looked up at him, bending over to eat his food, and Yuuji wondered what kind of expression it was. It was just getting dark outside, so the room was dim, but with Satoru’s white hair, he stood out. Yuuji supposed that he always had, and that he always would. That someone like Satoru would bring eyes to him, that one day he might even be considered “The Strongest,” the best of the best. Even now, his eyes lingered on him, maybe just a bit too long, so he forced himself to look away. Yuuji somehow understood that some day, Gojo Satoru would seat himself at the top of the world, and that no one would get to appreciate the somewhat awkward, teenage boy that he was right now. It was a selfish gesture that Yuuji didn’t mind indulging in, and a part of him was happy they could just sit and talk, even if Satoru didn’t quite feel comfortable enough to open up about whatever was on his mind.
…
“Can I see your apartment?”
Satoru was already sitting in the passenger’s seat when Yuuji closed the door to his right. Much to Yuuji’s dismay, Satoru had been adamant about paying. After Yuuji saw the amount on the bill, he had no choice but to quickly surrender. Now, Satoru seemed somewhat pleased with himself, crossing his arms and legs, leaning his head against the car window, looking all relaxed.
Groaning, Yuuji thought about how much of a disaster his place was right now. Satoru must have wanted privacy. He must have needed a little bit more time before he was willing to talk about it. He looked back over at his student, and Satoru was smiling softly.
“Sure. Just for a little bit.”
…
Yuuji’s apartment, all things considered, was very simple. Yuuji liked being somewhat minimalistic, and he didn’t really need much to get by. There was only a single painting hanging on the wall, and it was something Kugisaki had given him a couple years back for his birthday. In his bedroom there were a couple movie posters, and he reminded himself not to let Satoru into there, adding that his dirty laundry was sprawled across the ground. He actually enjoyed cleaning and what most people would consider “chores,” he just didn’t like being in his apartment very much. Yuuji knew there was a part of him that didn’t want to personalize this space too much, anyways. For the person that would have to clear it out after his death.
“Huh, so this is how you live,” Satoru said, walking in behind him. He twisted his head back and forth, and Yuuji felt a little put on display. At least the living room and kitchen areas were decently cleaned. Apart from his dinner last night still sitting on the coffee table, that was. Satoru strolled over to the couch and plopped right down. “You wanna watch a movie?”
Sighing, Yuuji joined him, leaning forward and collecting his bowls into one neat stack. “Don’t you want to talk?”
“Talk? Sure, we can talk.”
Yuuji leaned back against the couch. Satoru was going to be difficult about this, wasn’t he? Well, Yuuji wasn’t really surprised, again, aside from Suguru, it’s not like he had anyone to open up to, and some matters you didn’t want to talk to your friends about. Yuuji understood, he’d been there himself.
“You know, I see how hard you work, Satoru-kun, and I know you say everything comes easy to you, but don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? It’s okay to enjoy yourself. Being a sorcerer is painful at times, no matter who you are.” To see people die, to see your friends suffering. Certainly Satoru knew the harsher side of glory. A part of Yuuji wondered if he and Satoru were peers, if they were equals—He wondered what that would be like. “So, Satoru-kun, I’m proud of you, alright?”
Satoru just gaped at him like he didn’t quite know what to think, and although Yuuji wanted to cringe at his own words, he knew they were genuine.
Yuuji felt a hand grip around his shirt, and before he knew it, he was getting pulled into Satoru’s face. It took him a second before he realized that Satoru was trying to kiss him. A wave of discomfort and guilt seeped through his blood, as Satoru’s lips pressed against his. It had been a while since he felt the heat of another human’s skin.
Instinctually, Yuuji’s arms braced against his chest, and he struggled to push Satoru off.
Satoru stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed, his arms in the air, looking like he was at a complete loss.
“Did I—” Satoru started, and he coughed, like something was stuck in his throat. “Did I misunderstand something here?”
“I—” Yuuji said, and there was something stuck in his throat; it was his words, his thoughts, his feelings, his shock. “Satoru, you can’t do that, I’m your teacher.”
“I know that, I just,” Satoru said, and then he stopped. He took a huge breath and looked around the room, helplessly. “I thought that you, that you—”
“You wanted to kiss me?”
Satoru stared at him. His hands dropped to his lap.
“I think I love you.”
Stupid, he was so fucking stupid. Yuuji knew he was an idiot, but this was really taking it to a new low, wasn’t it? You’re such a fucking idiot, Sukuna was right.
“What?”
Satoru’s glasses had slid down his nose and he could see the brights of his eyes. “I’m saying that I love you.”
Yuuji’s expression of shock turned into a laugh. “This is a prank, isn’t it?” He knew it wasn’t. Yuuji knew that Satoru was being genuine. But he desperately, so desperately wanted to believe that all this could be quietly shoved under the rug.
Satoru’s hand gripped around his wrist. “Are you not into men? I can work around that. I don’t mind that.”
All Yuuji could think about was how large Satoru’s fingers were wrapped around his bone.
“Men are not the issue, Satoru. It’s not about—”
“What’s it about, sensei?”
Yuuji laughed.
“It’s you. You’re—” Just a kid.
There were twin streaks, two droplets at a time. Yuuji sat there, dumbfounded, as Satoru started to cry. It wasn’t a sudden thing, and he was completely still. Like his hand was made of ice, like he was built like a statue, desperately trying to break out of his shell. Yuuji could feel his fingertips dancing along his skin.Yuuji sat there, dumbfounded, a million emotions running through his body, and not a name for a single one. Satoru sniffled, and reached up to pull his sunglasses off. “Fuck,” he cursed, rubbing his nose.
Satoru was beautiful. That was all Yuuji could think. That this pained expression was an expression of frustration, of disappointment, of despair—But to Yuuji, he couldn’t take his eyes away. Never in his life did he think a human being could cry like that. It was like a secret, like he was witnessing something that should not have been seen. A moment of weakness, of vulnerability. Gojo Satoru didn’t cry. He shouldn’t be exposing this to him, Yuuji didn’t deserve to see this side of him.
“Hey…” Yuuji said, reaching out, and the way Satoru pulled back stung like a blade deep in his chest. “I’m sorry, Satoru, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
The guilt was eating him away. He fucked up. He fucked this up. It was all his fault. He should have known better. Satoru didn’t deserve him. Satoru deserved much better than him. Not a fuck up whose continued existence means the risk of thousands of innocent deaths.
Hesitantly, Yuuji reached forward, and toward Satoru’s face. Satoru pulled down his hand, letting Yuuji touch him, his thumbs at his cheekbones, his fingers cradling his jaw. He hadn’t yet filled out his face, his bones slightly oversized, his cheeks slightly too thin. Yuuji saw the youth in him, and he saw the person that Satoru would become. Simply put, Satoru was stunning.
“Are you okay?”
“Not really, my head’s all full of random shit.”
“Like what?”
“Like that I could push you against this couch so easily and fuck you so hard you wouldn’t have to think about any of this difficult crap.”
Ripples of horrified flattery reverberated around Yuuji’s skin, and it took Yuuji a moment to recognize what that sensation was. It was embarrassing.
“Satoru,” Yuuji said, almost lecturing. Yuuji let go of his face, and Satoru hadn’t once tried to pull away.
“You asked.” Then, those blue eyes flicked down, still singed red, but without a sense of sincerity.
“I don’t hate you, Satoru.”
“But you won’t let me date you?”
“Those are two very different things.”
“I think you’re attracted to me,” Satoru said, laughing, but Yuuji didn’t miss the lack of confidence in his voice.
“That’s,” Yuuji said, clearing his throat. “You’re very good looking, Satoru-kun.”
Satoru’s eyes flicked back up to him, and he sensed sparkles of encouragement behind those eyes.
“Are you lonely, sensei?”
Yuuji wasn’t obligated to answer that question.
“You’re not seeing anyone right now, right?”
He wasn’t.
Satoru scooted closer, right knee touching Yuuji’s thigh, and he looked down at him.
“I can help with that.” He wasn’t wrong, Satoru was exceptionally good looking, and the places where they touched were searing. “We don’t have to date or anything, but I can help you feel less lonely.”
Did he really just tell Satoru he thought he was attractive? Yuuji’s heart dropped when it hit him how fucking stupid he was. Of course he’d been thinking about it the whole time, but he really said it out loud, didn’t he? Satoru was just a kid. He was so young, so full of life—Nothing like Yuuji, completely different. And now he was asking him for sex, because of course he was. Was he like Yuuji was when he was a teenager? Thinking about fucking everything? What would Satoru look like when he jerked off?
“Satoru, you know we can’t—”
Finally, he went still.
It’d been a while since Yuuji had sex. Not that was any good excuse to fuck your student, but it would certainly be an explanation for what happened next.
“Satoru-kun, you have to leave.”
“H-Huh?” he asked, and Yuuji hated that he had that same look right before he started crying earlier. “I-I…” Satoru took a deep breath. “Fine. Sure. Sorry.”
He stood up off the couch and fished in his pocket for his glasses, putting them back on. Yuuji cleared his throat. “I can give you a ride back.”
“No, I’ll just have my family send someone for me.”
Yuuji felt guilty that he wanted him to say that.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuji said, as Satoru walked to the door.
Satoru opened it, glancing back at him. “What’re you apologizing for?”
When the door closed behind him, Yuuji thought about the answer to that question, the warm feeling of Satoru’s skin burned into his fingertips. He stood up frantically, locking it shut, pressing on it with his back. His body started to condense cold liquid on his skin, breaking out into a sweat. Yuuji’s heart was racing and he already knew why.
Yuuji was a weak man. He was a very weak man, and he had known this for years, he had known this his entire life. Every time he fucked up, every time his mistake cost someone their life, but never— Never had he wanted to fuck up this bad.
With Satoru’s soft voice still brushed onto his eardrums, and the feeling of his touch against his thigh, Yuuji pushed his hand down the front of his pants to touch himself.