Sometimes, (Y/n) was grateful to own so few things-like right now. Almost everything she had was already packed into her backpack. Well, everything except the things at Gojo's place... Those were lost to her now.

'Gojo... No, dammit. I can't think about him.'

But it was too late. The image of him as she attacked him came rushing back. His sad expression, the way he had looked almost pained to see her like that. And then, as if he believed she was justified in lashing out at him, with his infinity deactivated.

That thought made it harder to leave. But she had to.

She forced herself to focus on her task again. She needed to leave before Gojo could react. That was what she always did, anyway - leave without saying goodbye. It was easier this way. She already had the answers she needed.

First, Gojo had lied, making her believe he had investigated her parents' deaths when he hadn't. And then, when he did have information, he chose not to share it. It hurt, but she preferred to cut ties with him now rather later.

This was it. She was done packing, the note for her landlord was on the kitchen counter, and she was ready to leave. Just as she pulled the backpack strap over her shoulder, the doorbell rang.

She froze.

It was him.

No one else would visit her.

For a moment, she considered slipping out through the window.

'No. I'm not a coward. I can handle him.'

She threw her backpack down next to the door and opened it.

As expected, it was Gojo. His hair was a mess, like he had run his hands through it too many times. He still wore his sunglasses and the same button-down shirt - now stained with blood from the cut she had given him with her punch. The wound had healed, of course, but the evidence remained.

But what struck her most was his expression.

No cocky grin. No teasing remark. Just quiet sadness.

"What do you want?" she asked, already turning away from him. She needed to keep her distance from him or her resolve might waver.

"I see you weren't kidding when you said you usually run away," he tried to sound light, but it came out wrong. Like he already knew how this would end.

"I'm not running away," she shot back. "I have a lead on my parents' murder. That's why I came to Tokyo in the first place. Now I have no reason to stay."

Somehow, she managed to sound convincing.

"Just like that, huh?" His voice was quiet, thoughtful. Then, frustration bled through. "So I was just a means to an end? Just an informant you liked to sleep with? Or was that fake, too?"

That did it.

"Oh, you have some nerve," she snapped. "You lied to me, Gojo. You told me you had looked into my parents' deaths. That you had answers."

"I never said I investigated," he countered. "I just said I would tell you what I know."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, aren't you clever?"

This was too much. She turned, grabbing the half - empty bottle of wine she had left on the counter. If she had to deal with this, she might as well do it with a drink.

She poured herself a glass, taking a long sip, when she heard him exhale sharply.

"Back then, I was furious when I found out who you really were," he admitted.

She arched a brow at him as he reached for a second glass.

"Seriously?"

He simply held it out for her to fill.

She stared at him, almost incredulous, before sighing and pouring him a drink.

Their fingers brushed as she handed it back. For a second, their eyes met.

He looked calm now, like he had braced himself for whatever she would say next. But her anger wasn't gone yet.

"When did you find out about my former director's orders?" she asked, knocking back the rest of her drink.

Gojo hesitated.

"My informant has an innate technique," he said carefully. "When he has enough pieces, he can recall the past like a memory. I was hoping he could see what really happened."

"When, Gojo?"

His jaw tensed.

"Not long ago."

"Before or after we got together?" She already knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it.

He hesitated. "...After."

And there it was.

She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "See? That's exactly why you made it so easy for me to walk away."

Gojo clenched his fist. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to have more to tell you!" His voice rose now, frustration breaking through.

"Well, it doesn't matter now," she said, setting her glass down with a sharp clink. "I'm done talking about it." She turned toward the door.

"No, wait-"

There was something in his voice that made her stop.

A plea.

"I'm sorry," he said, softer now. "You're right. I should have told you."

Something in her chest twisted.

She turned back toward him, only to regret it immediately. He had taken off his sunglasses, and she could see it now - the raw regret in his eyes.

Her stomach sank.

"It doesn't change anything, Gojo." Her voice was quiet now, too.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

He hated that she called him that. Gojo. Not Satoru.

And he hated feeling vulnerable. But what he hated most was the thought of losing her forever.

Which was why he had to stop holding back.

"It wasn't just that, (Y/n)." He stepped closer.

She didn't move away.

"The truth is, I was scared." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I was afraid that if I told you, you would leave. That you'd chase that lead no matter what. And then I'd lose you."

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten.

He took her hands in his.

"(Y/n)..." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I love you. I don't want you to go. I know I was selfish. I should have told you everything from the start. Please - can you forgive me?"

Her breath caught.

Her anger was gone. How could she still be mad at him when he was standing there, raw and unguarded?

But it didn't change the fact that she still had to leave.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears still fell.

"Gojo, I..." Her voice trembled. "I have to go. You see that, don't you?" She pulled her hands away. "I've spent the last eight years chasing answers. I burned these marks into my skin with a red-hot iron just so I could get strong enough to face my parents' murderer. I can't stay. Even if I wanted to, I can't."

Her voice broke at the end.

Gojo reached for her, wrapping his arms around her. She didn't fight it.

"I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Deep down, I always knew you'd go."

For a long moment, they just stood there.

"Will you come back?"

She pulled away slightly, looking up at him.

"Will you come back to me when you've done what you have to do?"

"...Will you wait for me?"

"Always."

Her face softened. A small, tearful smile appeared on her lips.

"Then yes. I will. I promise."

His lips parted slightly-almost in relief, almost in disbelief. Then, slowly, he smiled back.

And when he kissed her, she didn't pull away.

She deepened it.

Gojo's hands found her waist, pulling her closer as if afraid she would slip away. His touch was slow at first, almost hesitant, but the moment he felt her respond, his grip tightened. He wasn't just holding her—he was holding onto her.

She let him press her into the mattress, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. His breath was warm against her neck, and when his lips traced a path lower, she let out a shaky exhale.

"Satoru…" she whispered, and something in him snapped.

His lips found hers again, more urgent this time. Hands tugging at fabric, tossing it aside. The heat between them was undeniable. His fingers trailed down her stomach, teasing, testing — until she gasped.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against her skin, his voice strained.

She shook her head, pulling him closer. "Don't you dare."

A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he pushed her further into the sheets. His mouth followed the path his hands had taken earlier, and when his lips met the inside of her thigh, she shivered.

His fingers slipped between her legs, teasing, coaxing until her breath hitched. His name left her lips in a broken sound, and he swore under his breath.

"You're not making it easy to let you go," he murmured before his tongue replaced his fingers, drawing another sharp gasp from her.

(Y/n) arched against him, her hands gripping the sheets, her mind blanking as pleasure took over. Every flick of his tongue sent another jolt through her body, and when his fingers curled inside her, she shattered.

Gojo kissed his way back up her body, his breathing uneven. He hovered over her, eyes dark, pupils blown wide. "Tell me you're mine," he whispered against her lips.

Her fingers dragged down his back, nails digging into his skin. "I am," she admitted. "For tonight."

His jaw clenched at that, but he didn't argue. Instead, he pressed her deeper into the mattress, making sure she felt exactly what she did to him.

And when he finally pushed into her, stretching her, filling her completely—neither of them had words anymore. Just the sound of their breathing, the quiet creak of the bed, the way he buried his face in her neck like he never wanted to let go.

Gojo moved slowly at first, as if trying to savor every second. His forehead rested against hers, his breath uneven as he fought to keep control. But the way she clung to him, the way her body welcomed him so perfectly—it was undoing him piece by piece.

"Don't—" he started, voice strained, but he never finished the thought.

Don't leave. Don't make me love you more than I already do. Don't let this be the last time.

But he knew better.

She cupped his face, tilting his chin so he had no choice but to meet her gaze. Her eyes were glassy, emotions threatening to spill over, but she smiled anyway. A soft, sad thing.

"Just tonight," she whispered. "That's all we have."

A sharp exhale left him as he captured her lips again, pouring everything he couldn't say into the kiss. He wasn't gentle anymore—couldn't be. His pace grew rougher, deeper, chasing the feeling of being completely lost in her. And she met him just as desperately, her nails raking down his back, her hips rising to meet every thrust.

The room was filled with the sound of their bodies moving together, the quiet creak of the bed, the breathless sounds she made every time he pushed deeper. He wanted to memorize all of it.

She shattered first, her whole body trembling beneath him, her head falling back against the pillows as she gasped his name. The way she tightened around him pulled a groan from his lips, his control slipping as he buried himself to the hilt.

He followed right after, his release crashing over him in waves. For a moment, neither of them moved, both struggling to catch their breath, tangled in each other's warmth.

Then, reality crept back in.

Gojo knew this should be the part where she pulled away, where she put up that wall again and made it easier for herself to leave. But when he shifted to roll off her, she stopped him—wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding him in place.

"Stay," she murmured against his skin.

Something in his chest ached. "I thought you were the one leaving."

"I am," she admitted. "But not yet. I didn't say before but I want you to know I love you too."

He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He should say something—anything. But all he could do was hold her closer, press his lips to her temple, and let the words settle between them. He wasn't sure if he could handle morning, if he could wake up and watch her walk away. But for now, just for tonight, she was still here.

And that had to be enough.

*

This is it, we've reached the end of this story. It ended a little different than my first idea, but I think is close enough.

At one point, I considered a second part, but since I like to stay canon-compliant and the manga didn't align with what I had in mind, that won't happen. However, I'll probably write one or two more chapters to tie up some loose ends.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it.