It's been a year since you lost the two people that mattered most to you. Not to death, which would have been the most probable cause given your choice of profession, but to your differences.

Suguru is a genocidal psychopath, and Satoru is just a regular one that you avoid as much as possible.

At first, you cried over them, almost every night. But tears never help, never undo the past, and certainly do not change the future.

You moved out of the dormitory at Jujutsu High and to Kyoto to be as far away as possible from Satoru. You don't think you could ever forget how he treated you immediately after you got the news that Suguru betrayed everything you fought for.

Protect the weak, you could still hear him say. Could still see the soft smile he always reserved for just you.

You dove headfirst into work. Anything they asked you of, you accepted, didn't matter if it was in your pay grade or not. If you were busy exorcising curses, you didn't have time to think of all the broken parts of your life.

Only when the special-grade curse you were fighting slashed you across your chest, barely missing your heart and shredding your lungs, did you realize that this could kill you.

You got away with your life hanging on by a thread.

The first thing you see when you wake up in the hospital room is the wretched face of Gojo Satoru.

He didn't bother with his usual sunglasses, letting his white hair frame his eyes instead. You want to punch the ever-loving shit out of him.

"Get the fuck out," you say, but your dry throat makes you cough immediately. He wordlessly hands you a glass of water that you tear out of his grip.

"Did you think Suguru was going to stand here?" he asks casually while watching you drink like any of this is normal.

You stare at him and, to your horror, feel the sharp sting of tears welling up in your eyes.

Because yes, even after all this time, you still hoped that he would come back to you. That he cared enough about your life to not want to see it end.

"You're the worst," you whisper. You put the glass down on the nightstand next to you and turn your back to him, staring at the wall.

"I know."

"So, go."

"You nearly died."

"And? You could die right now, and I wouldn't care. Go. Away."

"Come on, you used to be much nicer to me. I came all the way from Tokyo, and you won't even look at me?"

Screw punching him. You are going to fucking kill him.

The anger builds up inside of you until you think it's going to make you sick. Manifest itself physically and wrap its hands around Satoru's throat.

So, you do the one thing that you know makes him go crazy. You ignore him.

And you don't even have to try too hard, not when your eyes grow heavy, and you fall into a deep slumber.

The next time you wake, you see him sitting in a chair, his arms crossed over the backrest and his eyes on you.

"Your doctor said you have to stay in bed for at least two more weeks. That leaves plenty of time. Are you sure you want to ignore my existence for this long?"

Instead of answering, you turn your back to him again, having shifted in your sleep. You hear him sigh as if he had any fucking right to be frustrated with you right now.

"I'm going to stay right here if you ever want to quit being a spoilsport and talk to me like an adult."

You almost laugh. It seems like even after all this time, you could predict Gojo Satoru and read him like a damn book. His attempts at riling you up to make you snap were pathetic.

Unfortunately, he sticks to his words and spends the following days at your bedside, only leaving to get sweets and use the bathroom.

His taunts never stop coming.

"If Suguru could see you there, he would be disappointed. I saw the report on the curse. You've lost your edge."

"Why don't you just admit that you missed me? I promise I won't hold it against you. You can even fall into my arms right now, I might even like it."

"Shoko and Utahime asked me about you. I told them you don't want to see them. They were pretty sad."

The same old baits. Who is losing his edge now?

He got crueler after the first three days.

"Are you mad at me because I stole your first kiss? I didn't know you were that sensible."

"I got to say, you were not bad. I've had better, but Suguru must really regret not making a move on you. Before his genocidal stunt, I mean."

"If I had known that one kiss would make you this upset, I would have saved me the trouble. It wasn't even anything special."

He finally got you to snap after the first week.

"We could have shared you. I bet you would have liked that. Maybe he's still willing to. We could join his cause and find out. For you, I would."

In a blink, you knock him to the ground, your forearm pressing against his throat. Pure fury burns in your eyes.

"Don't you ever say that again, you fucking asshole!" you scream, nearly feral with anger. You press harder into his throat, putting your weight behind it, the urge to wipe the smug expression from his face thrumming in your veins.

"Which part?" he asks and has the audacity to smirk.

To your mortification, you start crying. "You can insult me, lie to me and toy with me all you fucking want, but never, ever even play with the thought of joining his sick ideology."

His eyes are wide open, the ethereal blue almost dancing. He looks alive.

" There you are," he chokes out. "I was almost worried."

"God, fuck off! This isn't a game, Satoru," you snarl and try to ignore the delighted expression on his face when you say his name.

"Oh, but I'm having so much fun! It's been ages since we sparred, I promise I'll go easy on you."

You pant, your breath fanning over his face. Your emotional outburst, one you already regret, and your muscle atrophy drain all the energy from you. Which makes you aware that you're sitting on his stomach, and that your wounds start hurting like hell.

You sit back and hold a hand to your chest, your face tightening into a painful grimace.

On shaky legs, you stand up and climb back into bed. Knowing him, he most likely extended his Limitless so no one could hear you fight. You don't expect a nurse to come rushing in to help you and you would rather die before you let Satoru touch you, so you adjust the blankets around yourself on your own and lay down with a whimper.

"What happened to us?" you openly sob and bury your face in your blanket.

This is wrong. Satoru used to be a jerk sometimes, but you still loved him. You can remember the three of you sitting together, laughing and joking about the most stupid things. You know that he can be cruel, but you were always the exception. Even Suguru was victim of his endless verbal jabs.

For the first time in a week, Satoru doesn't reply. He just stands next to you and looks down at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

You take his hand and press it between the pillow and your cheek. His skin is cool to the touch, but soft. It makes you cry even harder as you clutch his wrist.

"Why did I have to lose you both?" you whisper, shudders wrecking your body.

He crouches down, still tall enough so that his face hovers beside yours. His thumb gently wipes away the tears on one side of your face.

"I'm sorry."