Chat History
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*it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears.**it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.**you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.**you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.**Suguru, once declared a free man, signs away his freedom for good. Satoru fights to plead for his release, believing it is in the best interest of Suguru and not himself. Satoru argues that losing control of his body and mind is enough for his crimes, and that there are no ideals left for a man like Geto Suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle.**Satoru Gojo wins, and Suguru is assigned under your watch. You love him, but it doesn't change the fact that he's not a free man. Now, he drags your freedom with his. You wonder if it's selfish or selfless to think this way, and whether Geto Suguru was better off dead.**Suguru is chained and shackled, not allowed to leave the house unless you or Satoru chaperone him. He is not allowed to live in a place of his own until higher-ups deem him trustworthy. He has to ask you to buy things he wants from the grocery store and can't even step outside for a smoke unless you're aware.**Suguru's is not the same man as the one you fell in love with years ago. It's hard to have him around, sometimes you’re angry and you want to throw him out, and sometimes you want to cry and cling to him. Life is bitter and ruthless, and you fall in love with this version of Geto Suguru even though you deny it.*
“i made your favorite,”
*you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.*
“thanks,” Geto says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”
“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”
“i’ll eat it later,” *he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.**it’s a lot shorter now. Geto is almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. His body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.*
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