Archive of Our Own ^beta

Summer weddings are the most beautiful, Nanami had said entirely on a whim, spearing his salmon at the dinner table as the snow settled upon the window all those months ago, and Yuuji had clearly taken his offhand words completely to heart.

Sweat glistened at every temple. A few who had thought ahead waved makeshift fans to remain cool. The summer air was thick and heady and Nanami had lost the highest button of his collar many hours ago. Still, he moved fast, weaving through the crowd of guests and avoiding the heavy dancefloor as if his life depended on it.

It was the usual suspects who continued to spin as if the sun wasn’t sweltering. Several of them had hardly left the elevated stage and many had swept in to ensnare Nanami. He had danced with both grooms and bride already, and with Shoko and Utahime twice. All encounters had left his heart carefree but his mind dizzy, skin slick with sweat. A moment for rest, for water, he had begged time and time again, and only ice against his teeth could comfort him.

As he strode by Utahime caught his eye. Hers gleamed and Nanami picked up as much speed as he dared. “No more,” he said sternly, by way of warning but also a plea for clemency, and her laugh followed him through the busy crowd.

It wasn’t immediately clear where Tsumiki had gotten to. The grounds of the venue were wide with thick trees encircling the greenery and many guests escaped the punishing sun within their shadows. Yuuta appeared more than comfortable snoozing with his back against the bark and Maki’s head rest upon his lap, hands resting over her belly. For a moment their third was nowhere to be seen, but his wordless cries could be heard even across the field, the leaves of the tree shaking to indicate his mischief. Beautiful laughter was never far from Nanami’s ears, and his heart was entirely at peace.

Familiar faces passed him by. None were his goal. Nanami searched single minded and ducked between waiters with precariously stacked trays. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip though the celebrations were not even close to complete. It changed the way the light struck the trees and the leaves danced, gleaming.

Surely at this hour Tsumiki would be with the photographer, he thought, or Megumi. Perhaps Satoru. She had not been more than an arm’s reach from family since dawn. Even in the hustle and bustle of changing venues and the unique agony of catering troubles to hide from the happily wedded three she was always beaming, hair coming lose from her bun, and Gojo was always close at hand to scoop it all behind her ears and take another blissfully happy selfie.

It was easier to scan the smaller groups for her. Even so the gardens stretched on for what easily could have been halfway across the city. Nanami pushed himself onward and regretted the amount of champagne that he had allowed to be pressed into his hand. Still, he wasn’t certain if he would regret the devil-may-care attitude come morning on a rare day such as this, even if his aching brain would punish him.

No more alcohol, his lingering sense of rationality told him. It had been doggedly persistent all his life and just about kept at bay today. Water only.

Even after minutes of searching there was no sign of Tsumiki across the busy field. Not was she flitting between groups of guests, nor taking a moment of peace in the heavy shadow of the trees or cooling her feet by the fountain. When Nanami changed tactics to search the front of the venue near the driveway he followed a cobbled path, the trees growing more frequent. They shifted into a wide orchard of persimmon fruits. Rich in fruits and perfect for pictures amid a perfect forecasted summer, the host had declared during the venue tour that Yuuji insisted he attend. At that time the leaves had been much thinner. It left Nanami reluctant, despite the many positives that had been sung to them all – a wide dining hall with plenty of room for their large number of guests, multiple branching and isolated rooms for those who might need a quiet moment in the busy evening, and many places for the husbands and wife to be to prepare in the busy morning with ideal locations for photographs, to ensure eternal memories.

Everything needed to be flawless. Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara had each earned that a thousand times over. A stranger’s word was not yet enough and Gojo, spotting the building trepidation in Yuuji’s eyes fuelled by the doubt in Nanami’s, clapped a hand upon a shoulder each. “It’ll be sick,” he insisted, perhaps too casually. “Plenty of space and shade. You’ll see. C’mon, let’s go check out the fountain. Guess we’ll be using it to strip off if the summer’s gonna be as hot as they say.”

As infrequent as the occasion could be Gojo had been right. Gazing upwards as he hurried along, the sunlight caught the bold green leaves. It left dappled shadows against the light soil. The branches were bowing with the weight of rich persimmons. A few had dropped, half eaten by scurrying forest animals or splitting open and turning deeper orange until they were black. The grass and wildflowers amongst the roots of trees were well maintained by the venue staff, vibrant and healthy despite the onslaught of heat across the week. There was shade enough, at least, and Nanami knew that the finished photographs would be heavenly. He could already imagine them framed and set upon his walls and desk in positions of honour.

So lost in his own daydream, Nanami had little idea of where he walked and, vitally, who emerged upon his single minded path.

The collision was direct and rough. It threw a man as imposing as Nanami off balance and he teetered, stunned, jerked from his own mind. An apology came half formed to his lips. “Sorry,” he said urgently as large hands caught both of his biceps.

Jasmine was newly rich across the air. Gojo’s grin was just as stark, utterly unruffled by both their meeting and the touch of the sun. Despite the layers of his expensive suit – with several trademark buttons undone – there wasn’t a single bead of sweat. “Where’s the fire, Nanamin,” he drawled.

Amongst the afternoon light his visage temporarily took Nanami’s breath away. His dewy skin seemed to glow. Jewels and silver chains gleamed at his ears and his eyelids twinkled with soft pink glitter. Next to him, Nanami may as well have been plucked from the murky depths of the soil. There was no compare. Gojo had held onto his youth after all these decades, barely touched by crow’s feet or frown lines. It was only his laughter lines that had emerged victorious, brilliant as he smiled.

For the first time Nanami noticed the cobbled path that veered off to the right. Gojo had come from Megumi’s suite, tucked away between the guest bathrooms and a small private garden that was beautifully maintained. The path was lined with colourful flower beds, tulips hanging heavy with thick buds. How Nanami had not seen him coming he could not be sure. But he came alone, without either of his children. The mystery deepened.

Trying to take control of his newly pounding heart he thought only of his mission.

“Tsumiki,” he said by way of explanation and Gojo’s brows arched. His glasses were low upon his nose. “Have you seen her?”

A fine silver bracelet set with blue gems gleamed as Gojo plucked the sunglasses off. With a simple flick of his wrist they were closed and tucked into the loose collar of his shirt. “Huh. Thought she would have been with you.”

“You’ve not seen her recently, then?” The wide expanse of the venue was no longer was pleasant as before. It had felt like they were a world away from the city, unable to be disturbed by anything other than the delight of their loved ones. Now it felt more like a labyrinth, pressing close.

“Last I saw her, the photographer had swept her away for extra shots with ‘Gumi,” he said with an affectionate lilt. His smile turned into something fond, losing the devilish twist. “And his lovely wife had gone to take full advantage of no longer being pawed around for the perfect position in the perfect light, and scampered off with their husband, heading towards the buffet. Wasn’t too long ago. Guess they’ll be a while longer.”

As delightful as the thought of Nobara finally being able to escape and eat was, Nanami could not withhold his wince. They had certainly gotten their money’s worth with their chosen photographer. Megumi had washed his hands of the search entirely, more interested in the catering and choices of flowers. Without his supervision and sense of calm rationality Nobara had found an insistent professional as irate and particular as herself – something Nanami was sure she regretted sorely, and they would be hearing about every anniversary for the rest of their lives. Luckily, Nanami had escaped their clutches early on after group shots of extended family and Nanami as Yuuji’s closest adult relationship were complete, unable to do a thing about Megumi’s clearly pleading eyes. Yuuji had thankfully been in his element and Nobara was both puppet master and victim – always with a demand and a hand around her waist, and a growing need for a glass of wine.

If Nanami’s own turn under the photographer’s scrutinising gaze meant anything, it would be close to another hour before Tsumiki would be relinquished to them. More than enough time to enjoy a turn on the dance floor in the late evening, if Tsumiki was still in the mood – and Utahime did not wear him out first.

Either Gojo missed nothing, or the alcohol had let his mask slip. When his head quirked the silver chains in his ears swayed. “Not anything urgent, right? Nothing gone wrong?”

“No, not like that,” Nanami said and glanced aside as a group of unfamiliar guests passed them by. Friends Yuuta had made abroad, he remembered, that Yuuji had also become fast friends with upon visiting. They paid Nanami and Gojo little heed as they laughed and chattered, carrying plates of food. “Tsumiki had promised me a dance. I was coming to collect, but… it can wait.”

Honesty was a mistake. Gojo’s expression instantly burst into life. All concern was long forgotten. “If there’s a dance with Nanamin on offer,” he grinned, careening forward. Jasmine filled Nanami’s nose, sweeter than even the well-loved plants. “Let me take you up on that.”

Nanami’s brows creased. A prickle of exposed embarrassment across his cheeks would transform into a ruddy burn if he was not careful with what he said next. Dancing with Gojo, in public of all things, was a dangerous idea. “Haven’t you got enough on your plate? Suppose you’ve been busy fending off catering questions.”

“Nah,” he said, remarkably breezy for a man who had dealt with a dozen last minute panics before eight am. Father of a groom was a nightmarish responsibility and yet Nanami’s dream. It would have broken a lesser man, but Gojo smiled always and took it in stride, as carefree as if this were his own wedding and it was Nanami keeping him blissfully ignorant.

The thought inspired a twinge of agony, his belly swooping, but as always Gojo was always there with a balm. “Always got time for you, Nanami.”

It was too late to tame the flush. It spread wicked all across his cheeks and throat, disappearing beneath his collar, uncaring of the tattered remains of Nanami’s dignity. Praying that it would pass as exposure to the sun he powered through as best he could. It was remarkable, really, how all of these years later, Gojo could throw him off of his axis with such ease.

Nanami avoided his eyeline, instead staring at the fine bridge of his nose. It could be painful, orbiting Gojo, staring into his sun dead on. “If you’ve got the time to spare,” Nanami said, resisting the part of him that needed to have Gojo’s hands in his.

Springing up without delay and clapping his hands, Gojo’s delight was clear. Silver cufflinks in the shape of cake slices gleamed at his wrists. “Sick,” he declared and before Nanami could grimace he was gracelessly seized. Large hands closed around his wrists. “C’mon! I want to make ‘Hime jealous.”

There were cruller fates to be unceremoniously hauled through the gardens. Long legs cleared the ground in mere moments and the joy of the crowd grew steadily louder. Gojo hummed a tune to himself that was quickly lost beneath the stereos pumping Tsumiki’s carefully curated playlist. They cut through the gardens and wound between people. When the passed blissfully beneath the powerful air conditioning it tousled their hair, pleasantly cool against sweaty skin.

In the thick of the celebrating crowd many partners had changed hands. Some sat recuperating against the walls, drinking quickly and snacking freely. Utahime remained and had somehow coaxed Shoko into her clutches for what must have been the fifth time, singing along at a volume Nanami could not hear. Yuuta and Inumaki had since relocated, now wrapped in each other’s arms as they slowly swayed, wearing twin fond smiles. Gojo pulled Nanami directly into the midst. Slinking between bodies and feeling the wave of new heat wash over him, Nanami regretted this more than even the enticing burn of Gojo’s fingertips against the vulnerable underside of his wrist. It was hotter even than the urgent yearning of his blood.

With a grand flourish Gojo turned to face him. Dewy skin was clear and perfect. There was not a single hair out of place as Nanami sweat hard. “Hope you remember your dancing lessons.”

How could I have forgotten? There were not true lessons, but the memory was seared within him. Tsumiki had always been a happy child, bouncing and swaying to any beat. Dancing came naturally to her. But innate talent still needed practise and Gojo loathed that he could be so often away, and in his boyhood Megumi often surly and self-conscious. Though Nanami was too tall he would do, Tsumiki told him in that matter-of-fact way only a child could save from being an insult, and she could still practise her footwork.

Nanami remembered those lessons well. Tiny hands still sticky with dessert. A radio playing all the latest hits, bright and alive within the Gojo family’s living room. She was so small. Her smile was a bright as the stars. Nanami would have done anything for her, and still would. Anything she asked.

“I do,” Nanami said. It came croaking a little and he cleared his throat firmly. “Do you remember yours?”

Gojo’s laughter drew many eyes. Fortunately Shoko was the focus of Utahime’s world. Nanami’s continued freedom was sweet indeed. “All those years of Gojo clan etiquette lessons? It’ll be autopilot,” he promised with a careless wave of his hand. “Are you leading, or…?”

Tsumiki had led him each and every time. Nanami had never thought to lead, completely enraptured by her cherubic face and tone as commanding as that of an army sergeant. “You can,” he replied and glanced sparingly down at Gojo’s feet. His shoes were fine black leather. Breathtakingly expensive, he was sure. Custom made. “Do I need to make you sign a contract agreeing no repayment once I’ve ruined your shoes?”

A wry look was his reward. They settled into each other in seconds with only Nanami left slightly hesitant. Gojo’s hand rest steady on his hip and the other brushing over his shoulder. It ghosted across his bicep, slow and decadent. It was the lack of water that left Nanami’s mouth dry, he told himself. It wasn’t particularly convincing. “Think after all the headaches you’ve been there to get me out of over the years I owe you a pair of these shoes a hundred times over,” he said, sealing their fingers together as if the touch were nothing. His fingers were always softer than Nanami remembered. Pastel pink nail polish was lightly chipped at the edges.

“Hah,” Nanami said humourlessly and rest his palm against the junction between Gojo’s thick shoulder and warm throat, condemning himself to torture.

Those who spun or swayed around them were conscious enough to give them room. To them, Nanami and Gojo were simply nameless bodies. Each set of partners were in their own little worlds. Lovers and would be lovers, friends and colleagues, and whatever the hell Gojo and Nanami had become over the years.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Nanami said, and followed Gojo as dutifully as ever.

Fortuitously, he started slow. He took a small step back and Nanami took his place, focusing on avoiding his toes. There was no Infinity to protect him. Their fingers were wound close, Gojo’s palm flush against his. There was nothing but skin between them and Nanami was starving and faint at the thought. Gojo spun and stepped and swayed and Nanami knew he had been taught more intricate steps than these. There was no finding a wife within the higher clans with such childish knowledge.

Overhead the bubble-gum pop faded out. Another faded in but it was all much too modern for Nanami’s ears. Others around them adjusted to the beat, their joined hands thrown up into the air and their smiles widening but Gojo and Nanami stayed swaying, uninterested in the games surrounding them.

“I should have warned you that I wasn’t any good,” Nanami said, a touch apologetic and already perspiration. It didn’t matter that he expected Gojo wouldn’t have let him go free even if he had. Utahime certainly hadn’t.

Going by the blissfully wide smile that would not budge come hell or high water, Gojo cared very little for talent. Even suffering the worst of his clumsy steps Gojo shortened his movements and yanked Nanami even closer, delighted by every little thing. “Should have gotten you into some professional classes!”

It would have been kinder to poison the wine. “If Megumi couldn’t be persuaded, you’ll have not gotten me,” he said, unable to budge the grim fatality from his voice. In turn Gojo laughed in his face, squeezing his hands firmly. “He danced well enough, don’t you think?”

“I suspect Tsumiki bullied him into a few practise swings,” Gojo admitted with a quick wink. “Though that’s strictly off the record.”

It was easier at least to get into the rhythm with someone that Nanami trusted. Utahime had been equally patient though a bit sharper when he caught her open toed sandals. Confidence came with time and a few of Gojo’s endlessly positive encouragement. A few wayward steps pinched Gojo’s feet, but he never breathed a word and only pulled sour faces at Nanami’s attempted apologies. They worked in a form of unison, never in time but always quick to adjust to mistakes or misjudgements, and never teetering into the path of the dancers around them.

Gojo pressed his limits with a few spins, casting his arms over Nanami’s head. He twirled dutifully despite glowering, just to see Gojo’s beautiful smile.

“Nice moves, Nanamin,” he teased, and the ever-present burn across his cheeks intensified.

There wasn’t much separating a dance with Gojo from hunting a special grade. The adrenaline was the very same. The thrill of the risk, of the danger, and the sense that one wrong step – even the slightest – would be enough to bring the down around him. And yet, it was worse – here it was much too easy to lose control of his most private daydreams.

Counting each pale eyelash was easy. The scent of Gojo’s skin and clothing was familiar and fresh, and his touch was unrivalled. It would have been so easy for a passing stranger to think that he were the young groom, the celebration held in honour of him alone. Maybe, if Nanami was lucky, they would assumed that Nanami was his blessed chosen, a husband that had pledged himself to Gojo and Gojo to him in turn. They would carry that assumption until the end of their days, and that was as close as Nanami would come to bliss.

Sweet torture, Nanami thought, lost in everything Gojo Satoru. So many times over the past twenty years he had been close enough to feel his breath upon his cheek and foolhardy enough to want to tell him his most closely guarded secret, and yet a thousand miles away, his eyes rightfully set upon different people, different dreams. This evening Gojo controlled their dance with ease, but Nanami was not the first partner, and he would certainly not be the last. It wasn’t something that Nanami blamed him for – though he had never been able help being under Gojo’s thrall he still ultimately chose to follow Gojo’s steps, to let him control the flow of their dance. Following as a kouhai, a colleague, and finally as a friend. Almost family. That precarious point between uncle and a greedy straggler overstaying his welcome.

Nanami would be content with that. In all truth he had to be. There was no risking the honour of his coveted position. To ask for more would be foolish and the death of his dream.

If the world had come to an end around them Nanami would not have noticed. For too long he forgot all, and time quickly fell away. Sweat soaking the hair at the nape of his neck and the creeping dehydration had become mere inconveniences. He laughed, even, as Gojo sang deliberately off key to a mewling love song, pathetic as a soggy cat and wailing like one too. All inhibitions were torn away and in this moment Gojo could have been his.

It didn’t last anywhere near long enough. Fondness and desire could only bend the harsh rules of time or so long. Nanami’s eyes were only for his closest companion, and they picked up speed without his notice. There was no nausea and no building heat. Nothing but Gojo’s laughing croons, the gleam to his youthful skin, the way the very edges of his hair were finally wet with sweat. Eyes on me, he seemed to say. Only me, and Nanami’s hungry heart compelled him to obey.

Every part of his body moved on instinct. The adrenaline of Gojo’s breath against his numbed the sore muscles. When Gojo drifted closer to stand cheek by cheek so did Nanami, and his strides covered the ground the Gojo’s steps backwards surrendered. As the crowd of dancers grew larger they moved in tighter circles and all Nanami knew was the scent of his skin. Even in the summer heat Gojo was cool and crisp, not a hair out of place. Surely Nanami’s sandalwood cologne was ruined, and he stank of sweat – but Gojo never breathed a word.

Song after song after song passed them by. Each of Nanami’s breaths had become harsh pants. His limit fast approached though he could not bear to end his own torment. Gojo was pink with joy rather than exertion and the shame of the mess Nanami had surely become was cloying. A base creature, wound so closely with an angel.

The spirit was hungry for more and the body was weak – mortal, and Nanami was forced with time to bow out. “Satoru,” he gasped and the hands upon him squeezed in understanding.

Despite this they did not slow. Gojo spun him once more, twice more, faster yet and then Nanami abruptly found himself viewing the world from upside down, almost off his feet entirely. In a flash Gojo had his arm wrapped around Nanami’s waist to dip him deep. It was the only support he had until reaching entirely on instinct, he threw his arms around Gojo’s neck.

So close that Nanami swore he could feel eyelashes bat across his cheek, Gojo smiled like a man every inch satisfied. “Thanks for the dances, Nanamin,” he rumbled and before Nanami could even regain his stolen breath and straighten out his fractured nerves Gojo hauled him back up as if he weighted nothing at all. Once steadied upon his feet, Gojo made no effort to release him. Sweet torture, and the love in his heart was like blade parting the flesh.

The awful sensation of his heart plunging into his stomach lingered. Gojo’s inescapable eyes had confounded him too, as gorgeous as an eternal sky. Nanami could only laugh faintly, shocked and winded. His heart pounded as if trying to escape. It wanted to rest in Gojo’s hands. “I think that’s me done.”

“Nope,” Gojo replied with a pop and a small hand clamped down firmly upon Nanami’s sweaty shoulder.

“Nope,” Tsumiki declared and Nanami’s head whipped around. He met with her sparkling eyes, bright just like Gojo’s stars, and Nanami’s love threatened to stop his heart entirely. She smiled and just like that Nanami no longer ached. “Can I have the next dance?”

“Of course,” Nanami said without delay and that sweet face turned to her equally beautiful but significantly less angelic father.

“Hands off,” she said, hands framing her hips, skirts swaying. Her smile shifted into a half serious glower. It was like the barely there hiss of a kitten.

It earned a whine of complaint, long and pathetic. But Gojo released him without argument and Tsumiki floated into place, automatically taking the place of the lead. Her hands slotted into place perfectly and the sting of Gojo letting go no longer hurt so intensely.

Playfully, Tsumiki shot a proud look over her shoulder. “All mine now,” she declared and Gojo threw up his hands, showing his palms for mercy.

“I’ll be back,” he warned with a lingering look and wry grin, before ducking down to press his lips to her crown. Small strands of hair continued to escape her bun and he tucked them back behind her ears as she preened. The happiness suited her. “Save another one for me.”

“Okay,” she chirped, and Gojo was gone in mere moments, sweeping off the dance floor as if he were royalty. He still moved to the rhythm, steps slow and hips waggling. It was a ridiculous yet endearing sight and within a second he was waylaid again, an unfamiliar face vying for his attention.

When Nanami turned to Tsumiki the intensity of her smile rivalled the sun. Little dimples that matched her brothers were worn deep into his cheeks. “You better not have been avoiding me,” she teased and her own hands were just as cool against Nanami’s. Her dress was deliberately lightweight, exposing tan shoulders and the small of her back. A paper fan with a loop in the handle was strapped to her bony wrist.

“Never,” he said, perhaps a little too seriously. “Mostly I was trying to keep you father in check,” he continued to lighten the mood and Tsumiki’s laughter was musical.

“A nine to five you can never quit,” she teased, more accurately than she could ever have known, and the dying strains of a song faded out overhead. A few others look their leave, pulling away their partners or changing hands. Somehow without Nanami’s notice the shadows had enveloped the world outside, the sun perilously close to disappearing over the horizon. With any luck the temperature would drop – alongside the likelihood of being hauled out into the gardens for yet more photographs.

Together they took their place again in the direct centre of the room. With more space they could branch out, but their hands remained clasped, their heads tucked in together as if sharing secrets. Her siblings, both in blood and through marriage, were nowhere to be seen.

The ribbon around Tsumiki’s bun had remained remarkably firm. It draped over her shoulders and Nanami only realised for the very first time that the pastel blue perfectly matched his rumpled tie. “You ready,” she asked – Gojo’s daughter through and through, but blessed with the patience Gojo had never possessed.

“Absolutely,” Nanami said, heart steadied and full, and followed her lead.

---

There wasn’t a single soul in sight as Nanami ambled through the ornate doors of the hotel, trying his absolute best to both keep his feet and the wayward child he shepherded with Gojo supported.

It was far easier said than done. At some point during the night shift someone had come to clean the tiled floor - the sign warning of a wet surface served only to mock him – and Tsumiki had long been a skittish drunk. She wavered and wobbled, laughing at nothing at all. The sound bounced through the empty hotel grounds and then the lobby, earsplittingly loud.

On her immediate left her father was no better. Even sober Gojo’s face was flushed, wearing such a wonky grin no strangers would have known that he perfectly straightlaced. His glasses had slid so low down his nose that they threatened to clatter to the floor. “Almost there,” he said, remarkably confident for a man nearly out of breath from a short haul up the stair half carrying his child.

Tsumiki’s long removed heels tapped Nanami’s chest with every step. His hand curled into her waist, bunched into the fabric of her dress. Countless drinks in Tsumiki left her barely able to recognise the world beyond the three of them. Or perhaps, more likely, she simply no longer cared for any of it. “Oops,” she said as her feet scuffed the very last marble step, and father and daughter cackled, careless and free.

In face of it all Nanami could no longer restrain his own laughter. “Careful,” he said nonetheless and heaved her over.

Overhead the lights had been dimmed. At the head of reception the front desk was empty and dark, all plush seats in the waiting area abandoned. The television that had been playing the news when Nanami had checked in was now turned off. Good, Nanami thought. The sight on CCTV would be a cheerful mess enough, three guests wobbling and wavering, a laughing lightweight half poured over the expensive floor. He would have quite liked to have been able to show his face in the hotel again.

Past the well cared for plants that bloomed in every corner, the framed art upon every wall, they shambled towards the doorway that lead deeper into the hotel. Everything beyond was silent. “Where are the elevators,” Nanami asked.

“Dunno,” Gojo said pleasantly and Tsumiki was a woman made only of giggles.

Progress ground to a halt. They readjusted their supportive hold and swivelled their heads, craning down hallways that bloomed with automatic lights. The tile, at least, had become lush green carpet.

“Ah,” Gojo said suddenly, “down here,” and with a gentle tug of his child’s arm he led them down the longest corridor to the right. Lights came to life as they ventured further along and even such a liminal space was as beautiful as the reception. Gleaming signs showed the elevators to one side, the dining room and fire exits ahead. Night pressed against the windows that took up nearly the entire expanse of the left side wall.

With nothing more than a glance Nanami and Gojo knew they would not chance the stairwell. Calling down the elevator was simple – coaxing answers out of Tsumiki was not. “Which floor, ‘miki?”

Her bright eyes met Nanami’s, spilling over with joy. “Wasn’t today amazing?”

It had been. The extravagance of the event seemed to have no end. But each of them knew that such a wonderful occasion was a rare thing, pockets of sheer joy so fortunate in life. Gotta make it a hell of a show, Nobara had said, thoughtlessly signing off on every ludicrously expensive idea that Gojo presented to her. There was no swaying any of them from making the event of a lifetime – and it had been indeed. “Perfect,” Nanami agreed, and ushered her inside the elevator.

There was a mirror set into the furthest wall. Only now did Nanami realise how each of them looked as if they had been caught in a windstorm, blown into town by the chaotic whims of nature. Most of Gojo’s buttons were now undone, low enough to expose the first curves of his abdomen, and Nanami politely, though with some difficulty, averted his eyes. Instead he wondered where Tsumiki’s ribbon had gotten to.

“Tsutsu, what floor,” Gojo asked again, only tugging his collar open wider and slipping his tie off and into his pocket. It was an endless struggle for Nanami’s eyes not to drift back where they longed to be. “Which room?”

“Megumi looked so, so happy,” she sighed. A honeyed flush dusted her cheeks and Nanami could only grieve for the terrible state she would be in come dawn. At breakfast he would be sure to find her something very gentle for the sake of her stomach. “I’m… so happy. He deserved this. All of them did. Don’t you think so too?”

“Of course,” Nanami agreed, and all the elevator buttons were flashing for their attention. The doors had already drifted closed. “What room, darling?”

“Mm,” she said and let her head fall against his shoulder. Her perfume and conditioner were pleasantly fruity. Out of impulse he rest his cheek upon her crown. “Don’t remember.”

Gojo’s laughter was nothing short of rambunctious. “Poor Yuuta, trying to get Maki and Inumaki home in the same state. Doubt he’s managed to pour them into the taxi yet. You really tried to drink each other until the table, huh?” He captured the hand that once rest upon his shoulder, prying it free and turning the palm upwards. A little kiss was pressed against her fingers – and he surreptitiously slipped her room keys from out of her hand. “You’re going straight to bed, you hear me? No calling up ‘Gumi, or trash TV until four am. Gonna need to sleep this all off.”

A long whine of protest let her throat. Still, she made no attempt to stand alone, and Gojo checked the red leather tag attached to her key. “307,” he declared, and jabbed the button for the third floor. Instantly the elevator hummed and began to ascend. “Same as me. Nice and easy.”

It was a lucky thing indeed. The hour was late and the night slipping even further from their grasp. It weighed upon Nanami’s shoulders and back, an ache claiming all the way down to his hips. He was not yet old but had been a man long set in his routines since his late teens. A busy day for him always meant an early night and his body was left bewildered by today’s early start and increasingly late end. It would render unspeakable punishment on him in the morning, he knew.

With any luck they could drop off Tsumiki with ease, and Nanami would walk Gojo to his door to ensure no further mischief. A few more minutes of trekking to his own room awaited him then. Nanami had chosen a room on the smaller, cheaper side of the hotel, further into the woodland that framed it. Those had not yet undergone recent renovations and placed a smaller burden in his wallet, as well as provided him a space to relax from the bustle of the busy hotel during the mornings as the family caught up in the prewedding rush. Gojo had tried to flash his card for him, but Nanami had pushed him aside and ignored all complaints.

After the chaos of the day it would be good to settle back and catch a few hours of sleep. A minor headache pulled between Nanami’s eyes, his nose full of cologne and perfume, and so taken in by the familiarity he wished that this could be his forever. Headache and all. A snapshot in time nestled itself deep within his heart instead, impossible to pry free.

In a matter of moments they were at the third floor. In that time Nanami found his traitorous eyes drifting. Basking in the calm and rare quiet for the first time all day, alone at last with the family he had fought alongside – fought for. Now was a chance to enjoy the weight and warmth of Tsumiki at his side and Gojo pressed close, carefree in his radiant joy. Shameless in it, from dawn until dusk. In their fine clothes they were beautiful to behold, but Tsumiki’s smile was every star in the night sky. Gojo’s happiness was the moon itself.

The absence of their extended family was a very gentle ache. At this hour Megumi, Nobara and Yuuji would have boarded their flight and taken to the sky. Three weeks would pass quickly – though not quite quickly enough for Nanami’s taste – and they would be home soon, happy and tan. That same happiness made Nanami’s heart it’s throne. His chest was left weary in the straining effort to contain it.

Sunshine burst from the seams and Nanami did not realise how widely he was smiling until he caught sight of his own reflection. It seemed like another man entirely met his eyes.

They arrived at their destination with a soft chime. Beyond the doors there wasn’t a single sound. The automatic lights stirred and there were dozens of oak doors down the narrow hallway, one every few feet. Tsumiki perked up. “Are you staying with us, Nanamin? You’re got going back home, right?”

Now it was easier to guide her away. Tsumiki made a beeline for her door like an excitable puppy, thoughtlessly dropping her shoes to fumble for the keys still in Gojo’s grasp. Teasingly he held them just out of her reach and her cry of complaint was loud enough in almost hallowed halls that Gojo hushed her with a laugh, eyes sparkling. Instead their hands met and laced together over her keys.

“I’ll head back to my room for tonight,” Nanami told her quietly, polite enough to consider her resting neighbours. “Your father isn’t far if you need anything at all, and I’ll be nearby too. We’ll be seeing you tomorrow for breakfast. Bright and early, yes?”

“Bright and early,” Tsumiki chirped and Nanami had long appreciated the unearned confidence the Gojo children felt with every fibre of their being. Going by the tightness of every muscle, the gnawing at every joint, they were all due to have a turbulent morning.

Room seven was not far along. Even with tipsy hands Gojo made quick work of the lock. The door clunked open and gradually revealed nothing but darkness. Nanami hit the light and illuminated a large sitting room beyond a small genkan, the low wooden table in the centre of the room with several zabuton strewn ceaselessly across the floor. Tsumiki’s luggage was equally messy. Her bedroom was further within, partitioned by the shoji.

Everything smelt new and fresh. A fresh coat of paint was just about disguised by detergent and incense. Tea samples sat front and centre. Nanami’s own room was not so welcoming.

“You okay from here, Tsutsu?” Gojo asked, pressing the keys firmly into her hand and adjusting his glasses before they fell. “Want some tea?”

When she slipped from Nanami’s arms the cold quickly crept in. Already he missed her, watching her step carelessly into the genkan and stretching, arms high above her head.

“I’m okay,” she said, and leaned in one last time to catch her father in a one-armed hug. Gojo responded in kind without hesitation, both arms holding on tight and sinking down low enough for her to nuzzle into him. That was something his children had inherited. A kind of bear hug, embracing with all their heart and soul. Tsumiki’s head nestled into the crook of Gojo’s neck and clung on as if she couldn’t stand to be apart. Her hands bunched in his suit jacket. “Love you,” she murmured, a blessing for Gojo’s ears only and Nanami felt the hot curl of shame in his belly, a punishment for daring to intrude. It was not the first time he had felt it. It would not be the last. “G’night.”

Over her shoulder Gojo’s expression was beautifully fond. Even as the years had begun to leave their mark upon his skin his cheeks had only softened, eyes ever so lightly touched with crow’s feet, strained even further with his smile. His hand smoothed over the small of her back “Goodnight. Love you,” he said and Nanami politely averted his eyes, unable to bear the even mix of joy and jealousy. The rich green carpet seemed new and he fascinated himself with the pillowy texture. “If there’s anything at all you need tonight-”

Tsumiki only laughed. When she pulled away he drummed her fingertips against his cheeks. “Stop worrying so much,” she told him, with a quick peck on his cheek – and then turned her attention to Nanami.

An awkward little moment stretched between them. For a while Nanami dithered, overwilling to overstep or meet her eyes. But her outstretched arms forgave all his inadequacies, and he became whole in her embrace. She was warm, soft. Expensive and fruity perfume filled Nanami’s nose. Though Nanami was not as tall as her father she still had to strain on her tiptoes to meet him. “It was good to dance with you, Nanamin,” she said, and Nanami bloomed with joy, unable to penned in by his once sour thoughts. For a while, in his arms, Tsumiki was his blood. “You’ll come back with us after breakfast? You’ll spend the weekend?”

It has been a long while since he had visited the Gojo estate. Months, he had thought, when winter rain had lashed against the storm guards. They had shared a hot meal and Nanami had slept in the guest bedroom, unwilling to risk driving in the harsh weather.

Over Tsumiki’s head he shot Gojo a glance. May I, he asked, and only Gojo’s immediate thumbs up gave him enough confidence to kiss her crown. “Yes, of course.”

“You won’t run away into the office of yours after Kagura calls?”

Perhaps he should have. The third draft of his manuscript would not write itself. Kagura, his long suffering editor, was close to having kittens over a handful of delays – ignoring calls and emails to rush to a store to fetch something Tsumiki was too busy to purchase, spending the night talking Yuuji down from premarital jitters and reassuring him that Nobara and Megumi would still marry him even if his old wounds were a little stiff and he wouldn’t be able to give them the perfect first dance – but another quiet morning or stuffy afternoon locked away and starting at words that made little sense after being pulled apart and rearranged was a dismal thought. There was no comfort in the cold dregs of coffee and toast that scratched his throat. “I won’t.”

The arms around his squeezed hard enough to burst something vital. “Promise,” she demanded over his surprised wheezing.

There was no time for a silent apology and prayer for Kagura’s peace of mind. “I promise,” he managed, strangled, and only then was he released. Tsumiki was as observant as ever. “Nothing in the world is more important than spending time with you, ‘miki,” he said, eager to placate her.

A little heavy handed, perhaps – but if Nanami could not bare his heart on a wedding day, when could he? Such days were made for honesty and as much fearless affection that he was brave enough to share, and Tsumiki’s smile was bliss itself.

“Love you, Nanamin,” she sung.

“I love you too,” he replied with agonizing ease, without a single heartbeat of hesitation. But he let go of her at last and watched her wander into the safety of her room, yawning widely. “Good night.”

“Night,” she sang back, wobbling just a touch, and Gojo, after settling her stilettos safely in the genkan, gently shut the door behind her.

With Tsumiki gone the hall was uneasily quiet. There wasn’t even the smallest clatter from the adjourning rooms. There was nothing but Gojo, beautiful and snickering as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his slacks. “I’ll be amazed if she gets up in time for breakfast,” he said.

“Nothing short of a miracle, that,” Nanami agreed. Every birthday since the girl had turned twenty had ended with painkillers pressed into her clammy palm and repeated trips to the bathroom well past midnight. Megumi had excelled at playing nurse even when his own head pulsed with aches. Nanami, having always been charmed into staying the night, would make something simple in the kitchen for hand delivery in her bedroom, and Gojo would be the only soul there fresh as a daisy, laughing all the while.

It wasn’t so different, tonight. But Nanami had never been left alone with Gojo with alcohol in his blood and romance in the forefront of his mind.

To be alone with Gojo was a peculiar thing. More often than not there were buffers of children or old friends between them. Though Nanami was no longer infuriated or intimidated by being alone with him, the way he was when Gojo was a sharp-tongued teenager drunk on his first taste of freedom from his family and Nanami alone in an unfamiliar city for the first time, coiled tight with the stress of strangers and then the painful truth of sorcery and young love that had come over time, they had spent too many years as brothers in battle and weapons of other’s wielding to doubt each other now.

It had been earlier than last winter since they were alone, Nanami recalled. Father of the groom duties and urgent missions had both kept Gojo endlessly busy. Mentoring the next generation of budding sorcerers, making steady progress through his planned novel, and frequent odd jobs around the Gojo household held Nanami’s attention.

It was strange, in all honesty. All these years they had run in the same circles no matter their width. The same people were always at the centre, and as the years rushed by the circles ran tighter, tighter – surely they had to collide at one point or another. Surely Nanami could not be an outsider forever.

Nanami tried his best to shoo the thought away.

“What room are you in,” he asked. Opposed to his quieter corner of the hotel, the doors and hallways seemed endless.

“322. Down the hall, swing a right, at the far end,” Gojo’s grin was charming in its exhaustion. A little fang gleamed at the corner of his lips. “Carry me back? Your room can’t be too far.”

“I’m 119,” he corrected, and deftly checked his watch. Almost one am. The world was soft in its sleepiness. “Opposite end, I’m afraid. Your legs might be a little too long to be carried down, too.”

“Hah,” Gojo said and rolled his shoulders hard. Something popped. “S’pose you won’t say yeah when I ask you in for a drink, then?”

Surprise laxed Nanami’s jaw. He looked into Gojo’s glasses as if the ridge of his eyebrows would provide any answers. “Sorry?”

“A drink,” Gojo said, just exaggeratingly slow enough to be a little rude. “You know what they are for sure. Nursed enough of ‘em tonight. Think you missed a calling being a bartender, too.”

A little disbelieving, Nanami looked once more at his watch. Yes – fifty-seven minutes past midnight. Most nights he would be long abed. A few more pages in his book before he set his alarm and he would be ready for a fresh morning.

Still, there was a large part of him not yet ready for his nightly routine. The day certainly had been a bit of a blur, and so had the years, in part. It felt like only yesterday when Nanami had first taken Megumi’s tiny hand to politely shake. Now his joints ached, and Megumi fed his husband and wife cake that Nanami had spent hours crafting only the day before, thick fingers sticky with sugar. In the time between Gojo has settled into family, into a kinder life, and firmly into Nanami’s heart. There was simply no shaking him free, and Nanami had never truly wanted to.

Nor did he want to be alone tonight.

“Yes,” he said without thinking. Time – time no longer carried his ire. It was a precious thing after all. “Yes.”

If Gojo was surprised he did not show it. Instead he snapped his fingers. “Cool,” he said, and they crept through the halls together. Gojo led the way and Nanami’s eyes helplessly wandered.

There had been no question that Gojo would be a vision in his suit. Even as he stuffed his face full of sugar and danced without a care he was godly and Nanami watched him flutter from guest to guest and charm them all. The cut of his jacket was flawless and his thighs were strong, shoulders broad. Perfection as stark as the sunlight, and surely the smile he had worn all day hurt his face. The smile when he swayed with Megumi, when he toasted their long and vibrant future together. May it never fade - Gojo had earned the smile through endless blood and loss. They had all earned this.

Somehow Nanami had been drawn into the centre of Gojo’s life and yet left in the dust all at once. It was a maddening feeling. The euphoria of being loved and the disappointment of that love being shared but not the same. Watching life stride forward to a beautiful future whilst Nanami remained rooted in place was a taste upon his tongue Nanami could not identify. Maybe like strawberries, sweet soft flesh touched with mould and rotten through. Still, Nanami would eat his fill. Their trust and guest bedroom could be enough for his greedy heart. It had to be.

They were not yet at the door when Gojo shrugged lazily out of his jacket. Such an expensive thing was treated cruelly and Nanami might have chastised him had it not been for the perfect straight lines of his corset waistcoat. His waist was trim and the muscles of his back bunched beneath his shirt. It was a soft blue and a thing of beauty. His slacks clung to his ass and his heeled shoes made his legs seemed that much longer. Nanami swallowed, liable to make a terrible, peace shattering mistake – and then Gojo stopped, keys in his hands with a magician’s flourish.

In his wearied state Gojo took some time to steady his own hands. The lock protested but Gojo emerged victorious, shoving it open without grace and wandering within, leaving the door open wide. Nanami followed faithfully, letting it click softly shut behind him.

Gojo and Tsumiki’s spaces were equally grand. The sitting room was a touch smaller and the table was further to the right of the genkan. Gojo’s suitcase was leaning up against it, gutted with his belongings strewn thoughtlessly across the floor – like father, like daughter, Nanami thought.

An expensive looking television was set into the left wall with a expensive but small looking sofa facing opposite. Beneath that was a desk even nicer than the one Nanami had splashed out on at home. A mini fridge was set into one of the cupboards with a kettle at the ready on top. Nanami had only received a complimentary selection of candies that he had left untouched.

It was perfectly warm inside. Gojo had drawn the curtains against the natural light and he slipped his glasses free, tossing them onto the floor by his boxers. Gleaming eyes seemed to brighten the shadows. “Hit the lights, if you want. Keep ‘em low if you can.”

Nanami filled the room with the faintest possible light. He was cautious but Gojo gave no complaint, now throwing his jacket carelessly over to the cupboard. Within seconds it crumbled to the floor. “You must be tired,” he said. For most of the day Gojo had gone without protection or wore his glasses when the strain became too much. Most of the wedding attendees would have been understand – but Gojo wanted to make a good impression on the few family members Nobara had seen fit to invite.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, and gave Nanami a coy look over his shoulder. “You want booze? Tea? Coffee?”

What the hell, Nanami thought, and couldn’t keep his smile at bay. “Alcohol, please,” he said and was sure to be kinder to his suit. With it hung more appropriately on a row of hooks in the genkan, he returned for Gojo’s. It was warm from his skin, fond with the scent of flowers, and as soft as silk. Nanami’s heart quivered. “What did the hotel give you?”

While it was hung and Nanami’s pinching shoes removed Gojo had slipped into the adjourning bedroom. A cackling laugh met his ears. “Brought it myself. Did you see the bar downstairs? Prices are fucking crazy, and it’s the shitty stuff too. Went out to grab it while I got a little something for Nobara and Yuuji, for the honeymoon. Y’know. Welcome them into the family officially, and all.”

“Is that even allowed?” Nanami rolled up his shirt sleeves, a little lost in the room. The urge to tidy up after Gojo’s wayward socks was hard to suppress.

“Dunno. But no one’ll find out, unless you snitch,” Gojo said and emerged from the bedroom second later clutching a familiar bottle. But Nanami found himself distracted by a delectable strip of skin – even more buttons had been newly pulled apart to expose the slightest curve of his stomach. While his collarbones were sharp enough to bloody Nanami’s mouth, his skin was soft and scented sweetly enough to numb the pain. “Don’t tell sensei! I got your favourite and everything.”

Indeed he had. It was a smooth, warming whiskey, so expensive that it was Nanami’s treat for very sparse occasions. A glass would be the perfect end to a long day. “I won’t tell sensei,” he agreed with a smile and Gojo’s laugh was a beautiful thing.

“Hurry up and sit down, then,” he commanded and Nanami obeyed. The zabuton was plush beneath his weight and his body relished the comfort. It felt like years since he had last sat down. Hurrying to get dressed and then photos and then dancing – endless dancing, and he swore he could still feel the warmth of Gojo’s hand in his. Everything Nanami had eaten and drank was on the go, drawn into a dozen arms and begged for countless photos. His calves hurt the way they always used to when hunting as a younger man.

With a long sigh he tipped forward. It was impolite but Gojo would not care. He spread his arms across the wooden table and stared into nothingness, enjoying the chance to take the weight off of his feet. “God,” he said and Gojo grunted his agreement as he clattered through the hotel glasses.

“Hell of a day,” he murmured. The gentle sounds of a twisting cork, squeaking wood against wet glass was borderline therapeutic. Gojo poured a generous amount, it sounded like, and Nanami could have fallen asleep right there, safe and comfortable.

There was no response necessary. Both of them were long comfortable with gentle silences. They breathed and basked in the rare stillness. Gojo no longer moved and talked as if he was in a hurry to get to the next moment in life. The mini fridge hummed easily along. Their clothes barely rustled.

After perhaps a minute a glass tapped on the surface of the futon, next to Nanami’s hand. Stubborn and comfortable Nanami did not open his eyes until Gojo settled down opposite him. Gojo lounged freer, legs spread wide. His own glass wasn’t even a quarter of what he had poured Nanami. Gojo had come to prefer sweeter alcohol with pun names bad enough to make all others groan, and yet he had fetched whiskey – as if entirely for Nanami’s sake.

A long and ragged sigh left him. Gojo’s shoulders sagged and he closed his eyes but his expression was nothing but peaceful. He sipped gingerly at his whiskey. Nanami watched him a while, shameless in admiring the smile that lingered even as he clearly found the taste reprehensible. His mouth curled, as content as a sunbathing kitten. Beautiful, as he had always been, golden and enviable in his hard-earned happiness.

His drink needed to be fortifying. It was easier to think outside of the loud music and voices, but Nanami did not want to allow himself to think too deeply. “Thanks,” he said, and the glass was pleasantly cool against his sweaty hand. The whiskey was perfection – the burn made itself known through Nanami’s throat, reassuring and familiar.

Nothing needed to be said. They had spoken enough, he thought, and that was the truest sign of their age. Decades ago Gojo would not have allowed a single moment of silence. Any venom or nonsense would come from his mouth as long as it would earn him attention. That was the boy, but the father no longer needed to claw so desperately at the world.

Nanami had not yet achieved such peace of mind. In the end, he doubted he ever would. That which he wanted would be forever beyond his grasp, and the trick to holding back his misery was to drink alone. “You must be very proud.”

That smile reached his ears. “I am,” he said. “Beyond words. Today was…” he let out a long, satisfied exhale. “Just incredible, really.”

The sentiment was shared by all. It was evident in the faces of the crowd, full of anticipation and unparalleled joy. A few tears had been shed during the ceremony and the fond goodbye as the couple departed before midnight. Nanami had managed to hold his own at bay but he understood the loss of control entirely waiting by Yuuji’s side, watching the flurry of emotions on the boy’s – on the man’s – face. Anxiety, longing, and adoration, all at once.

Though a father’s pride would never be Nanami’s, he felt it’s twin, cloaked in another name. Being there for Yuuji would be the honour of his life. “They deserve this happiness,” Nanami murmured. As do you, he thought, but as always, it went unspoken.

“Damn right,” Gojo replied without a beat and brushed his drooping hair out of his eyes. “They fought for it. They deserve only the best.”

Better than what we had. Nanami understood what went unspoken. Another sip steadied the shake that plaguing memories brought. It was ancient history now, he told himself. All those who had hurt them when they were mere children were long dead. All those who hurt their children were dead too. They had made certain of it.

But Nanami could tell himself that as often as he liked – the shadow could never truly be banished. Fear, no matter how nonsensical, could not be erased. It was as much a part of him as his bones.

It was hard to be made up of both love and loss. The feeling that he would never quite be complete was a yawning void that ached like a bruise. Home held a shrine for all those who Nanami had lost and he cared for it in a way that had all too often been obsessive. Often burning candles and wiping dust that wasn’t there from glossy photographs, too young faces stared out at him. He was sure that his fellow graduates had the same – Shoko and Utahime had never spoken of it, while Ijichi had mentioned his own in passing, pink cheeked with embarrassment or drunkenness.

Nanami had seen only glimpses of Gojo’s. It had become easy for Nanami to focus solely on the way their absence changed his own life, taking their shortened lives as a slight against himself. But more bonds than Nanami’s had been severed. Both Shoko and Gojo had missing their pieces of their own, empty hands that changed their trajectory of their lives.

But Nanami’s thoughts had turned too sour and Gojo was right. Despite the weights on their soul what they needed was here. The very best was now, and even if they had suffered, the next generation would be safeguarded – and the next after that.

Still, it was hard to shake the thoughts from his mind. Alcohol was supposed to kill them and ensure Nanami’s restful night and Nanami took another luxurious mouthful. It would lull him away easier at least. It would help forget the cold sheets and the empty other half.

By his side Gojo was quiet. With a glance aside Nanami watched him swirl the barely touched remains of his drink. His chest rose and fell steadily. It was soothing at such an hour, such fine companionship. The climb down of an overwhelming crowd was soothed with the intimacy of the man he loved. If Nanami pretend, this could be enough.

Another drink and Nanami’s glass was already half gone. He took another, elbows braced against the table, sagging forward lazily. The bottle gleamed even in the faint light, and Gojo glanced at him.

“You never married,” he suddenly said, as casually as commenting upon mild weather, and the peace of mind that Nanami had fought to keep pace with died in an instant.

No longer was the moment comfortable. The room was that much darker now, that much smaller. It was a herculean effort to remain calm and still. Inside, his heartrate picked up, his nerves set alight, drenched in accelerant. “Mm,” he said simply and chased another sip to occupy his mouth.

It was useless, really. Six Eyes never missed a thing. Surely it told Gojo all about the newfound tightness of Nanami’s shoulders. It was testament to how Gojo had changed as a person that he did not seize an opportunity to pry for the purposes of riling his victim up. There was blood on the waves but Gojo no longer had a taste for humiliation. He was kind enough to pretend he wasn’t hypersensitive to the shifting tensions in Nanami’s body.

It was laughable. Such an innocent question and yet one that had played upon Nanami’s mind for decades. All this time had been given to him to dream up an answer and still he was blown away.

Too much time had passed trapped in his own head. Gojo spoke again. “Lost interest in the family life?” he asked and glanced his way with a smile that was no doubt meant to be reassuring. Nanami saw only pity.

There was no greater burden than a heart. It was swollen with Nanami’s longing – like a waterlogged corpse amongst dark waters. Left untended with the particular type of love and companionship it sought Nanami lumbered on, ignoring his cold empty bed and cooking for one. For a time he thought the pain would lessen – it never did. With the focus of his affection so close at hand and yet so far, Nanami dare not act.

There was the image of a perfect family within his mind. A husband who would share his rotten heart, a daughter who would fall victim to a curse for too long but then bloom before his eyes. A son who returned happy from his travels with two more beautiful children for him to dote upon, and Nanami could accept no substitute. There was no walking away from the Gojo family. Even if he could never be a member by name, this was enough.

“It just never happened,” Nanami said, and he had become so good at those half-truths, dancing around conversations that he did not want to have. “Let me live a cheaper life, too.”

Automatically Gojo laughed. That sound was far more beautiful than wedding bells. Neither of them mentioned how largely Nanami’s life had been funded by Gojo. “Guess you couldn’t have afforded to keep anyone, with everything you splashed on the kiddos,” he teased.

“Mm,” Nanami said again, and sought the freedom a change in conversation promised. “I dread to think on how much you spent on today. All those flowers, and the catering – only the best for your treasurers, hm?”

Never in his life had Gojo been bashful. Certainly not when it came to his wealth, and he simply shrugged. His loose shirt pulled against his broad shoulders and Nanami found himself briefly distracted by the show. “Thought they deserved the perfect day,” he said, and those immaculate eyes peeked over the rim of his glass. “And I know you brought Nobara that necklace she had her eye on.”

There wasn’t a single second of shame. “It was beautiful. Suited her outfit, too.”

“It did,” Gojo agreed, and Nanami’s pounding heart had not yet slowed. The whiskey was sourer than he remembered.

“Was that a matching set, with her earrings?”

He gave no response but a serene smile and Gojo could only laugh.

With his elbow upon the table Gojo’s cheek rest cradled in his own palm. His eyeliner was a touch smudged. It made him look tired. Glitter had spread to dust along his angular cheekbones. Beautiful, and dangerous in ways that Gojo could never have comprehended. Nanami averted his gaze lest he become weak.

Dangerous. Elegant. A shark energised by a drop of blood. A force of nature. “Just never happened,” he murmured at the point Nanami had just become comfortable enough to breathe freely. There it was – that cautious, sympathetic tone that Nanami loathed. It was only marginally better than the strangers he met who turned cloying, sitting too close and shuffling closer yet when they saw the lack of a ring upon his finger. Cool hands that became much too friendly. Too handsome to not be snatched up.

Nanami had never had the stomach to bear them for long. Rare uncertain kisses during moments of weakness may have been on the innocent side but they haunted him like a betrayal. A handful of dates fizzled out to nothing.

There was nothing wrong with that, he told himself. As judgemental as he had suddenly become, Gojo himself had never married. There were casual dates and sometimes they had even met his children but only ever by accident. No soul had ever made it to the family home. Nanami had wondered but never questioned it – Gojo seemed fulfilled enough with his tightknit family and the continued sorcerer life, while easier with Sukuna gone, was never ideal for dating humans. Other sorcerers were made greedy by the name Gojo or carried nothing but distaste for his human daughter. Gojo carried nothing for opportunists.

The faces of his partners were hazy. Long legged blondes and bookish redheads of all genders. Nanami had tried hard to bury his head in the sand. When he caught wind of Gojo’s new partner he would avoid the house as often as he could, throwing himself into a few chapters. It made him wonderfully productive and Kagura would always shower him with praise that meant little to him. Nursing his heart was hard. Whiskey and trips to the gym helped. He had no interest of finding comfort in the bed of a stranger.

Just never happened carried in the air. Gojo had spoken slowly. Luxuriously, like he was trying out the lie for himself. These days Nanami’s blackened tongue curled so often around well-meaning falsehoods that they fell easily. “But not for lack of opportunity, right? You’re looking for something permanent.” Gojo’s grin was abrupt and enough to catch Nanami even further off guard. “Looking for the one, huh?”

The one – what a laughable thought. Nanami had never believed in the notion – until –

His glass tapped too loud against the wood. “Why are you asking, out of nowhere,” he said, too briskly. Too much, like the cold that washed across his skin.

It was a twisted kind of relief that now Gojo looked almost as uncomfortable as Nanami felt. He shuffled in his seat, twisting his own glass in slow circles. The ring of condensation left the wood slippery. The corners of his mouth were tight. “Been thinking a lot. Had a lot of time to think about the past. Future, too.”

“Dangerous,” Nanami murmured and the smile it earned him was watery. “I’m not going to elope, or have you organise and fund my nuptials, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A profound unhappiness sullied Gojo’s expression. Pale brows sunk low. “Yeah, that’s the problem.”

Nanami stared. It was impossible to know what to feel and how intensely to feel it. A miserable concoction of shame and incredulity was a bitter drink. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Though it was barely touched Gojo abandoned his glass completely. Both of his hands covered each cheek, shoulders deflating. “Just…” he began, and after a long stretch of silence where both men marinated in misery, he sighed. “I worry about you a lot, Kento.”

Somehow the dread deepened. It was a rare thing to be called by his given name. Nanamin was saccharine sweet and all that he needed. “There’s absolutely no need,” Nanami said with unearned confidence but when Gojo’s expression twisted sharply he fell silent, caught off guard.

“Will you let me worry about you, for once,” he said firmly, like he was talking to Megumi all over again – the boy lanky in his rumpled uniform, blood dried in the cracks of his knuckles. Like he was pushing sweat-soaked hair from Tsumiki’s tearful eyes, the machines surrounding them always humming.

Nanami’s mouth ran uncomfortably dry. Now he too fumbled with his drink, the cool glass comforting.

Leaning further across the table Gojo splayed his hands across the wood. All attempts to catch Nanami’s eye were met with fierce resistance. Stubbornness would reward Nanami yet. “Can we talk about this?”

Swallowing down his discomfort was like chewing on glass. “About what?”

“You,” Gojo said, so much softer than before. For the briefest moment a hand stretched out as if to capture his. It fell short tantalizingly close and curled closed again. “You’ve been with us – me and the kids, I mean – for so long. Almost their whole lives. We’re close. And even before, when we were students,” the nails caught the smooth wood, scrabbling in uncertainty as if looking for something to pick, “I know you wanted to be married.”

The same way Nanami struggled to reconcile that he was once a child small enough to carry, young enough that he could not speak, those days felt like a lifetime ago. Hazy like the popping dialogue from the first spoken word film. Faces from the school were silent movie actors, left behind as the others advanced. The aches were the only certain constant.

Nanami had wanted to be married. So had Haibara. It was never something Nanami had frequently mentioned, shyer in matters of the heart and uncertain even then about his future as a sorcerer. In contrast Haibara was well versed in caring for his sister and lacked any extended family, and thusly wanted enough children that Nanami threw up his brows and reminded him of the sheer cost of so many mouths. As always his words had fallen upon stubborn ears. Haibara shrugged off the harsher side of reality with ease. That smile was so painfully earnest.

His family had faded out in the end. His sister, childless by choice, had passed a few years back. In the years before her accident Nanami visited her city several times a year – a routine, when broken, was a violent shock to the system.

Loss had become a part of him, he thought. He was accustomed. That taught him he was very wrong. Losing his last tie to Haibara, the same doe eyes and rounded cheeks, struck like a punch to his throat.

Neither of them were married. Neither of them followed the path they anticipated. Neither of them had anything to show for themselves and their efforts. There was nothing Nanami could do but spiral.

In his eternal kindness Gojo stepped forward then. It was funny, really, and Nanami said so when he was sane enough to laugh again – Gojo had taken Nanami under his wing like one of his students. He had been quiet throughout the funeral and cooked easy to digest meals, piling them up in his fridge. There wasn’t a single word when Nanami wept until he vomited his misery. It was his steady presence and their wound hands that kept him grounded.

That, in the end, was when Nanami knew. The one.

Family was something Nanami coveted. His biological family was wide but hollow. After leaving the city for Tokyo he had almost instantly lost contact with the few cousins his age that he spoke to outside of cold family gatherings. His mother died shortly afterwards, and his father had already been gone a decade. His grandparents wanted nothing to do with him – the sordid background of his mother, he had recalled, but known none of the details. The tatters of family that Nanami had cherished became rotten through scraps and then nothing at all.

The chance to forge a family that cared and always would became Nanami’s drive, and that need, for a while, had been sated by Haibara’s affection.

In the end it was a strange thing that Nanami had spent his life surrounded by children. Here he was, never a teacher but a mentor, an uncle of sorts, and bound to the school he had loathed. Still loathed but shepherding lost young souls into someone found had become his life’s work entirely by accident. Not a father, either, but close, and the children who were children no longer were the brightest lights in all his life.

So many different memories assailed him. Tonight had walked a path he had never anticipated, and his brain felt like it was swollen too big for his skull. Nanami shook away the ghosts and grimaced. It was the hypocrisy that almost annoyed him most. Worst of all, was the terror of being seen at last. His secret had been his alone for far too long to go exposed now.

“It may not have happened, but I lived, didn’t I,” Nanami said, a half-truth that had become one of Nanami’s favourites. It helped soothe the deeper wounds. “I’m a grown man. I can look after myself, Satoru.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” his companion replied and together his expression and voice were terse enough that Nanami no longer felt he was with a friendly face. The walls shrank in closer and Nanami was a butterfly upon a pin. Fluttering for freedom and entirely trapped. “I’m saying…” he exhaled, nostrils flaring wide. A quick sip for strength and the sour bite of discomfort. “I’ve taken a lot from you. Over the years. Asked for too much.” His mouth twisted hard. “Feels sometimes like I’ve completely taken over your life.”

All Nanami could do was watch him close. Newly surprised into complete silence he stared. His heartbeat filled his ears and Gojo shook his head like he too was shaking away doubt.

“All the things you wanted to do with your life,” he breathed. His voice had become as rough as grit between Nanami’s fingertips. “Getting away from the school and retiring in Malaysia. You’ve never even visited the damn place because I was constantly asking the world of you. Looking after the kids, taking on Yuuji, covering my classes. I always had a favour to ask. And you,” Gojo continued until his voice was raw. With his head bowing down low shadows and shame left his face dark. “And you always said yes. Didn’t matter how bullshit the request or how annoying I was about it. Didn’t matter how busy you were.”

Finding some dark inspiration he lifted his head again, but he barely made eye contact. There was a hardly restrained misery in his downcast eyes. “That’s why you didn’t get married. Because I never gave you the time to be.”

It was remarkable, really. Heir to Gojo clan with all that education and those one in a million eyes and Satoru was still so stupid. Decades, they had walked shoulder to shoulder. If there was any evidence that Gojo could barely see the world past his own outstretched arms it was here.

There was something about the night that leant them both to nostalgia. This part would leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Those eyes, and Nanami would never truly be seen. It seemed there were still dreams enough within Nanami left to crush.

Dismissiveness had served him well enough over the years. It was a shield like no other, made of his feeble heart. “That’s very stupid,” he said, the same way he had fended off Gojo’s bullshit as teenagers – but Gojo’s hand struck the surface that stretched between them with a solid smack.

“Listen to me,” he said, expression newly intense, his eyelashes long and fine, his beauty breath-taking. Nanami knew all too well how the sorcerers threw themselves at his feet. Even frustrated he had no flaw. “You can say it’s stupid if you want. But I know I kept you from a family of your own. I know you love the kids. But I know you had your own dreams, too. I kept you from that and there’s no point in arguing with me.”

That sinking feeling was all too familiar. Like being pulled beneath the winter sea, entrapped by ice floe. His nails scrabbled to find the seam that closed within seconds, trapped him below. Without his say so, he recoiled hard. “Satoru-”

“I just wish you had more,” Gojo finished, hands splayed across the untarnished wood. They were wide and pale and unblemished. “Your family. Someone who loves you.”

Pain compressed his lungs. Squeezing tight, pressured by freezing water, and Nanami’s skin prickled. A family of your own. Something that had long haunted him and was his sole companion throughout long sleepless nights. The old music from his radio could never fill his empty apartment. An expensive wide bed, half empty. Only his shoes in the genkan. Someone who loves you.

When he swallowed his voice was raw and tight. There was a hollowness behind his eyes. He was well acquainted with the shameful burn and miserable cold that dawned upon him all at once.

This is all I’ve ever wanted. The words were seconds from tripping from his tongue. But with you.

The room was chillier now. It was a herculean task to clear his throat. Unable to stomach meeting Gojo’s gaze he stared instead into the amber depths of his glass. The memories of small, trusting Megumi, and the trusting weight of Tsumiki in his arms no longer hurt so sweetly. “I’m sorry,” he said and no matter his best attempts, his voice warbled. “I hadn’t meant to… I apologise if I intruded. I should have realised that I wasn’t…”

Be happy with what you have. Others have less. It can be perfect, if you let it. The memories would not become tainted. They wouldn’t. Nanami’s face burned, and his eyes stung. Someone who loves you. Your own home, your own person, your own children. Not mine.

“I’m sorry for misunderstanding,” he said and bit back a wince when Gojo awkwardly shuffled back in his seat, legs kicking free of the table.

It must have been a forced invitation out of politeness. The invitation back to Gojo’s room – not the wedding entirely, surely, not their lives. Politeness would never have been so misconstrued. That couldn’t be true. Despite how he spiralled in grief he would not be a fool. It was all he could do to fight to straighten his own thoughts.

He needed to finish his drink and leave. Better that he be gone by dawn. An easy excuse would be enough for Tsumiki - Gojo could smooth over any cracks. His absence would barely be noted.

A fortifying drink would carry him through. Nanami seized his glass and choked down the rest, barely registering how Gojo thumped down by his side. But the moment his empty glass struck the surface, alcohol burning an unforgiving path down his throat, Gojo’s hands captured his.

The soft skin was enthrallingly warm. They covered his completely, cradling. Gojo’s body was broad and familiar and even in the barely there light he leaned in close enough to see the way his mascara clung to each lash. “Listen to me,” he said once more. Though his voice was serious his touch was forgiving. Nanami could not hold his eye. “Listen. I didn’t mean to imply that you were any kind of burden or weren’t wanted. The kids adore you. They’re as good as they are because of you – I sure as hell didn’t raise them that well. You know that, don’t you? I just worry that I asked too much of you. Maybe, if I gave you some goddamn peace and quiet, you could have had a couple of Nanamini’s running around.” Despite the cloying tension within the room he laughed a little at his own poor joke. Nanami could not smile and Gojo cleared his throat. “I worry that you could have been happier, is all. Uncle Nanami bringing a suitcase full of souvenirs for his nieces and nephews.”

Years ago, maybe. Now imagining children other than the Gojo’s was impossible. “I don’t want that,” he breathed. “I want – I want-”

You. I want you. Something I haven’t a hope in hell of getting.

It was seized like an animal with a piece of meat. Gojo’s eyes blazed with determination. “Tell me what you want,” he said, as soft as the moonlight. He squeezed reassuringly. “Don’t think about the rest of the world.”

Possessed entirely by a fool’s unearned confidence, Nanami exhaled shakily. Though his brain screamed a warning he turned his head, studying their hands, wrapped together. They seemed worlds apart. Gojo’s wide, long, pale, well suited to the elegance of an instrument, in another life. Nanami’s were thick and beset by scars. It could have been worse. It could always be worse. All his life, that had been his mantra.

Keep your head. Keep your cool. Never ask for more. That was how Nanami risked losing it all. He had seen risks cost men everything, in his salaryman career and sorcery alike. Informed risk devoured even the most hopeful heart and Nanami could not lose his loose grasp of family due to selfishness. Not once had Gojo given him a meaningful second glance and Nanami would not destroy himself. No ideas above his station, no illusion of what he really was.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said and Gojo’s changing expression was equal parts frustration and pain. Before he could speak Nanami hurried to defend himself. “It was… reprioritising. In the grander scheme of things what I wanted didn’t matter. What I wanted… didn’t line up with who I wanted.”

For a long while Gojo was blessedly silent. His lips, now clean of tempting gloss and yet still calling to him, formed a soft circle. “What do you mean,” he asked.

There was no beautiful way to say what came next. There was only the brutalisation of Nanami’s ribcage and the gory exposure of his heart. Alcohol left his blood angry and rich.

Alcohol left his tongue loose.

“I’m not wanted the same way,” Nanami said and wished sorely for another brimming glass of whiskey. The blessed bottle was beyond his reach. “And that’s fine. That’s always been fine,” he said, the blackening of his tongue spreading to his guts. “He has other responsibilities and wants, and he’s chased those in the decades we have known one another. He’s given no indication that he shares my feelings. And that’s fine,” he stressed even as his heart threatened to give out entirely. “We’ve both been pulled in so many different directions. Most of all… I want to give him peace.”

There was so little left of Nanami to feel regret. Even when Gojo’s expression turned thoughtful, the gears working overtime behind his eyes, there was no dread or disbelief in Nanami’s chest – only catharsis. Cracking open the doors on a secret contained for decades brought fresh air that he gasped down. Those eyes, divine. They watched him close and then they shifted – seeing his truth at long last.

A wounded little laugh left Nanami’s devastated throat. “Now you see why,” he said, and his words warbled.

The room was very quiet. The pitch black of night pressed against their windows. Cold nipped at their skin and Nanami pulled his tie loose. He wished he still worse his jacket. It was difficult to breathe. The fabric seemed to draw closer and closer to his throat despite the buttons left undone.

Silence stretched between them for long enough that he could only smile, water thin. “I just wanted you to have peace.”

Catharsis was a funny thing. It never felt as good as described. Like unshouldering a great burden – the pressure may have relieved, but the soreness of the muscles remained. Nanami cast off the weight but the truth still left it’s deep grooves inside him and Gojo did nothing but stare. At least, he supposed, they no longer stared through him.

No. That was an unfair thought he had carried for far too long that bordered on childish. Gojo had always seen him and always had a kind word, endless space in his home, if not his heart. It was Nanami who chose to hide and accept the consequences. There was no blaming anyone else for the loss of something that was never given the chance to live. Clumsy hands hadn’t snuffled the candlelight. Nanami’s neglect had left the matches out in the cold and damp, never to spark.

The lump in his throat grew ever larger. It could have been a fist. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said and it was remarkable that air reached his lungs. There was a flawless steadiness in his voice. Pride was as bitter as his drink. “That is why I never married. Please may we discuss something else,” he asked, before he thought better of himself, and lost all his hard-earned dignity in a stammer. “But I can leave, if you prefer.”

Thinking of his empty hotel room was painful. It was neat and wide and void even before Nanami had left himself so vulnerable. Not even music would save him from the isolation now. Better that he leave. Better that he drink so sleep was forced to claim him.

By his side Gojo’s suit rustled. “Kento,” he said very slowly and leaned forward almost imperceptibly. With his eyes large and expression cautiously controlled he could have been almost a decade younger. “Are you serious?”

Am I ever anything but? “Yes,” Nanami replied. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Gojo said, and his voice was very soft. There was a beautiful, serene lilt. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

It was a thankless task to withhold his laughter. Before Nanami let it run through he reigned it in enough to become a horrible harsh exhale, the kind that tangled somewhere within his chest. Like choking on a halfway formed sob and Nanami loathed every moment of weakness that led him here.

He had embarrassed himself for too long. Fight or flight and once again Nanami chose to run from what hurt. “Pardon me,” he said, scalding in his skin. So much of him burned to the touch. “Please, enjoy the rest of your evening. I would appreciate it if you could pass my apologies to Tsumiki for tomorrow – I’ll make it up to her another time. Tell her Kagura was… insistent.”

When he pulled back his knees cracked sharply. The pain was easy to ignore and clambered gracelessly to his feet. It was worse when he caught his leg on the table and his empty glass dangerously teetered. More pain, numbed beyond belief.

A sparse thought lingered on his hung-up jacket. He dithered – and Gojo snatched the advantage.

He was on his own feet quicker than Nanami could register. Hands caught his biceps and he towered over Nanami once more. When did the years pass so quickly? Gone was the lanky, insufferable boy. There was no mocking in his expression. Concern was written over every inch.

“Don’t go,” Gojo insisted. His fingers snagged in the fabric of his shirt. The touch was unrelenting and overpowering upon Nanami’s skin. “Don’t leave. Please don’t go.”

A discordant note caught Nanami’s ear. Enough to make him hesitate and Gojo seized the opportunity to tug him closer. “Please,” he said again.

From the very beginning Nanami was weak. Miserably fallible. A vision of his own foolish heart and Nanami obeyed. Perhaps he was weighed down by his own damn folly. “But-”

“You’re wrong,” Gojo interrupted. With his wide eyes and childish insistence Nanami felt unwieldly, too small within his heavy frame. “You’ve never once intruded. You’ve never once been unwanted. Everyone loves you, Kento. Always have.”

There was some semblance of pride left to cling to. Amongst the ceaseless pain it became his rock. “I don’t need your pity,” Nanami shot back, lip curling like an animal caught within a trap driven to despair with fear and pain, baring its fangs.

Gojo remained unphased. “No pity,” he promised so easily that there was nothing Nanami could do but believe him. “I respect you. We love you. You’re part of us, Nanami. It wouldn’t be a family without you. Do you understand me?”

Every breath was laborious. Air never seemed to quite reach his overburdened lungs. All the alcohol and anxiety left him fatigued. Though he tried to speak nothing could croak from his throat.

There was no escaping Gojo’s watchful gaze. An intensity sharpened the celestial blue and his hands newly grasped Nanami’s slumped shoulders. One rest precariously between his shoulder and throat. Vulnerability left Nanami quaking. “Tell me you understand,” he urged.

It was torture to be so close. Even if Gojo was not purposefully cruel the tears welled up quickly in Nanami’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he croaked and tried to blink away the brewing tears. It was too late and they spilt hot and traitorous down his cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

In the face of Nanami’s uncharacteristic tears Gojo’s expression was gentle. It was an expression that Nanami had witnessed turned upon others a thousand times, for his children and students. There was nothing but compassion and Nanami felt smaller than he ever had in his life. “Tell me you understand,” he said again.

Though Gojo’s comfort wasn’t particularly reassuring Nanami closed his eyes and tried to push away every feeling that assailed him. It wasn’t much use, in the end. Tears dripped from his jaw. That awful ache in his heart would never leave. “I understand.”

A mangled half laugh was his reward. It was more of a tortured exhale. You suck at lying, he remembered, a voice he only tended to hear in his darkest dreams these days. It still left his heart quivering with fear and dread.

Perhaps Gojo could see his heart now, too. Maybe his pain was just written all over his face.

“You don’t get it at all,” Gojo declared and Nanami could hear his smile. Braving the sight, Nanami opened his eyes and found the man closer than ever and carefully studying his expression. The smile was very small. Fond, almost. It was wobbling through what few tears remained unshed.

There was no easy dismount. Nanami couldn’t even begin to consider how he could possibly walk back pathetic tears and an unrequited love confession. It was Gojo’s hands that clouded his mind, smoothing across his arms and shoulders. One dipped up further yet, a cool hand cupping the feverish skin. The pad of Gojo’s thumb rest against his pulse point. All ability to reason fizzled out.

Another laugh was a hot puff of air against his lips. “Dumbass,” he said and carefully pressed his lips against Nanami’s.

The contact was brief. Gojo’s mouth was hot and surprisingly dry but gentle. It lingered for mere seconds and he pulled back slowly with a sigh that shook Nanami’s foundations. Now Gojo’s own eyes had drifted closed, listless. His mouth was pink and parted.

Surely Gojo could hear how his heart skipped beats in its eagerness to get ahead. The flush of surprise spread far cross his skin, pupils blown wide. Little blue remained. “Do you get it now,” he asked and, despite everything, Nanami did not.

Threads of fact and rationality would not join together. They lay in tangled heaps at his feet. Nanami stared, all awareness dimmed as he was dogpiled by sensation and suggestion.

Disbelief left Gojo laughing breathlessly. As his brows sank he held Nanami’s throat with both hands, cradling him while keeping him perfectly in place. “Do I have to kiss you again?”

Even if he did Nanami feared his would not feel it. Never in his life had ever felt Gojo’s Infinite Void, but he supposed it felt much like this – like a sledgehammer to the back of his knees, but an instance where you didn’t feel the pain and yet you felt your knees give in, and the sensation of falling, and the awareness that something was happening to you – you just had no idea what. Overwhelmed with sensation you couldn’t truly feel and Nanami’s skin did not know how to react.

Still, he longed for it. It took away all the discord in his mind. Gojo was pleasantly warm and his touch soothing.

When he tried to speak nothing emerged. Instead he nodded silently, reaching in turn for Gojo’s waist, and he expected it might feel familiar. But it felt nothing like their shared dance. It was far more intimate in the complete silence and dimmed light, and Gojo was so very close. With his shirt undone his skin was warm beneath against him and between his palms, fond, and Nanami feared for a moment that he might lose control entirely.

But, somehow, Gojo found a way to put him perfectly at ease. “Alright,” he murmured, voice low as a whisper.

He took the second approach even slower. With exaggerated care he nudged their noses together, brushing loose strands of hair from Nanami’s heavy eyes. Only when Nanami sighed with subconcious impatience did he make the final push, ducking down for a kiss. This time he was firm, lips parted and Nanami was no longer a passive observer. Tilting up he parted his own lips, seeking more of jasmine. There too he found the taste of whiskey and wedding cake. Sweet and bold and Nanami didn’t mind the remnants of sugar on his tongue when Gojo purred.

The world narrowed down to this fine point. It was easy to believe there was no one else in the room but them when they had danced and drank in darkness. But here the longing fell away too. There was no one and nothing in the whole universe. The decades of dust were banished and Nanami’s hair was finer, swept over one eye unthinkingly. The only scars on his body where from those of his boyhood, from rushing with untied laces and petting unfriendly animals.

There was only serenity, and Gojo kissing him calm.

It was not to last forever but Gojo remained kind. His thumbs swept away the remnants of his tears.

“I think I understand now,” Nanami said slowly even though it wasn’t quite true and Gojo’s answering smile was pure.

His hands lingered upon Nanami’s cheeks. He traced the harsh lines of his cheekbones and gazed shamelessly as if seeing him for the very first time. That was something Nanami could relate to. Some familiar affection made his eyes shine and Nanami tugged him closer, belly to belly. Once the fact that Nanami had stopped growing when his temple met Gojo’s chin had infuriated him. Now it was perfect.

“Why didn’t you say anything before,” Gojo murmured, accepting him into his arms entirely. A kiss met his cheek and he nosed into Nanami’s hair. “How long?”

Answering that would be a mistake. As much a mistake as sitting in silence and almost letting Gojo pass him by. If he wasted these years and had been only a witness as one of Gojo’s casual dates grew into something more, or a mission ended with Nanami bloodied and beaten, dying tired alone on some half rotten floor, this moment would have never been theirs. It was a rare thing for a sorcerer of Nanami’s grade to make it to forty.

There was plenty of time for something to disrupt the path they had walked on, slowly to each other. Some kindness had delivered what Nanami had never believed in – a miracle.

Sidestepping the question was easy now. It was simple to distract Gojo with a chaste kiss. When he pulled back the man even chased him, disappointed with an early end.

“Are you real,” Nanami asked instead, helpless to his doubt. It had been his constant companion for so very long that it could not be shaken with a handful of kisses and kind words. Even Gojo, warm and promising in his hands, could not console him.

A darkness obscured Gojo’s vision. But he acted quickly, decisively, and took hold of both Nanami’s hands. They guided him to cup his own throat and trace his lips. Every inch of him was hot and soft. Gojo’s pulse thumped lazily beneath his skin. Nanami’s own met him head on, raging as if to escape.

There was no denying this moment. Gojo pressed him further, into all his flesh and longing. “Do I feel real?”

Tears came to Nanami again, unbidden. Thick and fast they fell. His hands fell out of control, brushing through Gojo’s incomprehensibly soft hair, settling against the nape of his neck. Without thought he tugged Gojo into a crushing embrace. A heavy oof left him but Gojo always caught on quick – he threw his arms around Nanami’s shaking form, cradling him without comment.

It was everything Nanami needed. Familiarity merging with the new. Nanami inhaled deeply and held the breath within for a long time. Gojo held him in silence. Only his hands stroked up and down his back. Their breathing filled their ears, Nanami’s laboured and Gojo’s perfectly steady, a foundation to cling upon. A lighthouse for a man too long adrift.

Minutes may have passed before his crying ceased. Maybe an hour. Maybe it was dawn beyond. All the same Nanami scrubbed away his tears with his cuffs, embarrassed. Gojo’s arms never left his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he began almost at the exact same time Gojo said, “I love you.”

So many shocks to the system in one night threatened to stop Nanami’s heart entirely. Nanami choked on his sharp exhale, barely able to recover before spluttering. All the while Gojo watched him, expression deadly serious.

“Satoru,” he strained but Gojo had never been blessed with patience.

“I do,” he insisted. “For a long time now. You don’t have to believe me – I’ll prove it, if you let me.”

The sledgehammer returned. Thankfully with his hands flush against Gojo’s body there was something to hold on to. “You can’t. You can’t.”

“I do,” Gojo repeated, and his voice remained gentle by Nanami’s ears. His breath stirred the fine blonde hairs. “Why would I hide it now I know you’ve wanted me for as long as I’ve wanted you? What would I have to lose? You’re a clever boy, Kento. You know it makes sense.”

The world seemed an impossible place. Keep your head, he told himself. All that alcohol was a reckless mistake and yet a blessing – such shame and blessings, served in equal measure. Nanami had not wept in years and here he stood, gasping.  His only consolation that here, private in darkness, he could easily deny it ever happened.

For the first time in a very long while Nanami’s world began to slowly regain some rationality. Nanami’s mind worked through the threads. The long-lived confusion of why the Gojo household had always been so open for him, and why the man had been his shadow half of their lives. Why Gojo had risked so much for him countless times, and the threads finally, blissfully knotted together, and Nanami had been wrong – unshouldering a heavy burden such as this was bliss.

Nanami felt his expression lax. The tension bled away as did his years. The pinch between his brows loosened and right there, within his reach, his –

Gojo saw peace fall upon Nanami and beamed.

“There you go,” he murmured, there we are, and Nanami succumbed to euphoria.

---

“You should stay,” Gojo murmured once the silence had become perfectly comfortable and Nanami’s eyes had adjusted to the complete darkness.

There was a newfound pleasant buzz inside him that had nothing to do with another glass of whiskey. Every inch was pliant and moulded against Gojo’s body. The man’s crown was beneath his chin, and it didn’t even matter that their too long legs hung over the edge of the sofa. “Hm?”

“Stay,” Gojo repeated and the arms around Nanami’s waist cinched tighter for good measure. His head was slotted perfectly in the nook of his throat. It could have easily been a crime that he had not been there all along. “It’s late. Your room is far. I have booze and we can keep making out. Win, win. All we do is win, Nanamin.”

It must have been freezing out. The neighbours would be dead asleep, too. Nobody wanted a half-drunk man fumbling for his keys or stumbling along the halls so late at night. It was better for everyone that he stay put. The sofa was plush and welcoming and Nanami’s heart was so at peace he wasn’t the slightest bit perturbed at what a waste of money another night for his own hotel room had become. It would be wrong to leave, like separating new-born twins, and Nanami was happy enough that the thought wasn’t painfully melodramatic.

“Alright,” he agreed as if there were ever a chance he could break Gojo’s clutches or had ever wanted to. And Gojo’s victory was sweet – he nuzzled closer yet, soaking up Nanami’s heat.

They settled comfortably back into silence. Surely from here Gojo could only hear Nanami’s lazy heartbeat. Surely he was consumed by its song. Delighted by the thought Nanami settled his hand upon Gojo’s head, stroking endlessly.

Hours could slip by too easily. An early start beckoned them. A celebratory breakfast at 8.30am and checkout by ten. Going by the state of Gojo’s room, there was much to pack, and it would be a difficult task while nursing Tsumiki’s guaranteed hangover and fending off Gojo’s unstoppable affections, as sweet as a teen with their first love. Still, Nanami avoided sleep, unable to slip away despite the heaviness of his eyelids.

Gojo carried no such burden. Soon enough his breathing had slowed and steadied. How he slept so easily in his half-done suit and makeup was beyond Nanami. There would be glitter upon his collar come morning. Nanami could not wait to see it.

It was strange to nurture such happiness. Nanami had anticipated this day since Yuuji had bashfully shown him two ring boxes with engraved names, nervous enough to fall apart entirely. Nanami had been content all the while, he knew, but inside there was a half rotten man, liable to collapse at a touch. As terrible as it might have been to say when Nanami was more fortunate than others, there was an unstoppable longing for more. It was Gojo who made him whole, as so entirely unexpectedly.

With Gojo slumbering there was no shame in admiring the moment. Brushing away white hair from his high forehead Nanami marvelled. A stark cupid’s bow that Nanami hoped he would come to know intimately and a long and angular nose, turned upwards ever so slightly at the tip. Sublime in rest and Nanami was happy to watch his dream.

He treated Gojo with greater care than he had anything in his life. His weight upon his chest was an easy burden, even with his awkward elbows and knees. A kiss was impossible to resist. Nanami placed it between Gojo’s relaxed brows and hummed.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your family,” he murmured, and his chest loosened with every single word. “Thank you for loving me. I love you.”

One wasn’t quite enough. Nanami kissed his brows and finally his crown, making sure to move lightly. Even so, when he pulled away, Gojo’s eyes were cracked open.

Though they had shared more than a few chaste kisses in the time since, Nanami still burnt with embarrassment to be caught. “I thought you were asleep,” he said, half apology and half accusation.

There were many smiles of Gojo’s that Nanami had secretly enjoyed over the years – his favourite being the genuine joy when surprised with pleasant news – but this one took its place. Sleepy, happy, it made the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

“Nah,” Gojo said even when his voice was thick with the need for rest. It wouldn’t surprise Nanami if it was dawn already. Their bodies weren’t made to run for so very long. “’n glad I wasn’t. Didn’t know my Kento was sappy.”

“Stop it,” Nanami said with no heat and squeezed him closer, threateningly. It didn’t seem to do much good, going by Gojo’s laugh. “Go to sleep. You need the rest.”

“So do you,” Gojo said and reached a hand to rub at his no doubt sore eyes. A stray eyelash was plucked away without hesitation by Nanami’s fingers and cast away.

Maybe it was strange, but the concept of sleeping seemed impossible. Bedtime was the closure of the day, and Nanami was reluctant to see this one end. Too much energy bundled in his limbs. How Gojo could even stand to close his eyes was beyond him. “In a minute,” Nanami said, distracted by how his eyelashes bat.

A soft moan of acknowledgement met his ears. Long legs stretched as they looked for a luxury men of their statue could not afford. The movement threatened to send Nanami tumbling off of the cushions into a heap and he held on, riding out Gojo’s exploration.

In the end, a hand rest splayed upon his belly. An ear was crooked perfectly to listen to his chest. Gojo sighed and the breath tickled. “Love you,” he slurred and in a matter of seconds he was very still and very quiet.

This time Nanami did not wait until he was gone. “I love you,” he said, and his eyes only for Satoru.