Chapter Text
“What have I done?” The inky haired man muttered to himself as his heart twisted in twelve different directions. Life had never come easily for the young man, he had been born into a society of sorcerers that made his purpose clear from birth.
Consume curses. Help humanity. Do as you see instructed and do it well.
He should have stayed away from Satoru Gojo, there was no other way around it.
If it wasn’t for Satoru Gojo, he wouldn’t be sitting in this room, smelling antiseptic weaving through the air and ready to hurl. He wouldn’t be hyper focusing on breathing in through his mouth and out from his nose, backwards he knew, but it was the only way to keep from sending him stomach into the floor. He was violently nauseated and he was decently sure he knew why, and he had known for a few weeks, but the more time stretched the further he stuffed it down. Buried it inside of himself.
“Suguru, you alright?” One of his students had asked him the evening prior. Megumi with his mysterious mannerisms but sweet center, of course he’d noticed something off in his professor.
Literally.
“Fine, thank you Fushigoro.” Suguru nodded, picking up books from his desk and balancing them between his arm and elbow, packing up for the day after several grueling hours of teaching in his condition.
“You seem a bit green is all.” Megumi pushed further.
Suguru cleared his throat and placed his free hand atop the stack of books to steady them.
“I’m fine. Thank you, Megumi.” He nodded before giving Megumi a subtle point of the eyes toward the doorway.
“Right. Thank you, Geto San.” Megumi nodded in return and left the room, but not without making sure his professor saw the beginnings of a smirk creeping across his face on the way out.
Geto booked an appointment with Shoko as soon as he got home for the following morning.
It was a risk he always knew existed but it was so marginally near-imposible that it hadn’t crossed his mind as something he needed to truly be stressed about, the probability would have been around the same as a non sorcerer being struck by lightning.
He shouldn’t have gone out for drinks with fucking Satoru Gojo two months ago.
He pushed his face into the palms of his hands and tapped his foot on the floor as he waited.
This is humiliating.
After all those years I let him in so easily.
I folded the second I reconnected with those crystallized irises.
Geto had left jujutsu society for years after Gojo and him had last spoken, he had been sent into the world in a murderous rage but eventually found his head and was able to channel his anger into something healthier as he worked simpler side jobs and spent time raising his nieces.
He had to fall back in love with the world and with being alive, he did not want to fall back in love with Satoru Gojo. It was difficult for him to accept the teaching position alongside Gojo that he was offered months prior, knowing the spark could potentially be reignited if it was just as flammable as it was before.
He accepted the job. He was 23 now, his nieces were in school, he was an adult, and he had a fantastic position secured after taking the time to get his life back where it was supposed to be.
He shouldn’t have done it. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his head above water if he was in the same proximity as Satoru.
“Hello?” Shoko knocked behind her office door before entering in her typical gear, lab coat, cigarette behind her ear tucked in with her mousy hair, a swoosh of lavender under her waterline.
Geto sat up to attention when she walked into the room. Shoko and him had never been anything less than friendly but they had lost touch over the years. It added another thick layer of discomfort to the situation at play.
“You are.” She exhaled.
Suguru Geto’s world flipped upside down at the two little words that dared to escape her lips. A lightening strike possibility of truth.
Suguru Geto’s was pregnant with Satoru Gojo’s child.
His heir.