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Language:
English
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Part 7 of NanaGo Fics
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Published:
2021-01-10
Words:
963
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1/1
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18
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226
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Quiet Comfort

Summary:

When Nanami ruminates over an evening gone horribly wrong, he doesn’t expect to find understanding and comfort in Gojou Satoru.

Gojou slides closer, gently nudging him with his bony shoulder. “But he’s fine, Nanami. You made sure of that. Yuuji is stronger than you think. He might be reckless, but that’s only because he cares so much for everyone, even strangers. He’s a bit like Yu, isn’t he?”

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Nanami takes a long drag of his cigarette, lets the acrid fumes burn his lungs before he finally exhales, and watches the smoke curl up towards the night sky. He can hear footsteps approaching, and he doesn’t need to turn around to see just who is heading his way: the tell-tale signs of the person's lazy gait gives them away.

“I’m not in the mood for your games today, Gojou-san.”

“Aww Nanami, you wound me!” Gojou says as he sits on the concrete steps next to Nanami. “I was merely out on a late night stroll.”

Patience has always been one of Nanami’s strong points. It allows him to see the bigger picture, to work out effective strategies on the fly. But whenever Gojou is near, it’s like he’s a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at a moment's notice. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want?” 

He watches the cigarette burn between his fingers, ash dropping to the ground. It’s been a long time since he last smoked, not since—

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Gojou says quietly. He sounds accusatory, disappointed.

“I don’t.” Nanami's head feels hazy, like he’s floating away from his body, much like how the cool breeze carries the smoke away. Memories from ten years ago flood his mind like water breaking through a dam, and he doesn’t realise he’s trembling until he feels a hand rest on top of his own. The cigarette has long since burned down, and the smouldering end of the unfiltered butt scorches his fingers. “Fuck,” Nanami curses, dropping it to the ground and swatting Gojou’s hand away.

Beside him, he hears Gojou hum, and then a plastic water bottle is being thrust into his hands. “For the burn,” Gojou says, nodding towards the blistering skin between Nanami’s fingers.

“Thank you.”

The water is ice cold against his skin, soothing the heat from the wound. They sit there in silence, and loathe as he is to admit it, Nanami appreciates Gojou’s quiet presence.

“He’ll be fine,” Gojou eventually says, breaking the silence.

“That’s not the point.” The bite in his own words is a surprise to Nanami. “It is our job as adults to protect the children, because that’s what they are— children. Sorcerers they might be, but I refuse to see my student act so carelessly, like he has no regard for his own life.” 

The now-empty plastic water bottle crunches in his fist, and the vision of Itadori hitting the ground, unconscious, full of holes and bleeding out, flashes behind Nanami’s eyes. He can’t help the way his mind calls up the past, two visions overlapping one another: Itadori laying on one of the tables in Ieiri’s office as she worked on closing up the holes that Mahito had put in him; and Haibara’s body laid out in the morgue, covered with a sterile white sheet to hide his torn up torso.

If he had been just a few moments too slow getting back to Jujutsu High, Itadori might have— he could have—

Gojou slides closer, gently nudging him with his bony shoulder. “But he’s fine, Nanami. You made sure of that. Yuuji is much stronger than you think. He might be reckless, but that’s only because he cares so much for everyone, even strangers. He’s a bit like Yu, isn’t he?”

Hearing the name said out loud makes Nanami's chest tighten and ache. The pain he feels is one that never dulls with age; that despite the age-old saying of time healing all wounds, it still festers just as sharply as all those years ago. It’s always there, just barely out of sight, lingering at the edges.

Gojou isn’t wrong, though. They’re alike in almost everything but appearance, and maybe that’s why, despite his best efforts, Nanami can't help but open up his bleeding heart to care for another. Selfishly, he wants to keep Itadori sheltered from the harshness of reality, to protect him from the inevitable heartbreak that comes with the world that jujutsu sorcerers live in.

“They’re too alike,” Nanami admits, head bowed forward. There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, and he doesn’t want Gojou to see. 

“He’s a good kid, Nanami. Don’t be too mad at him.”

He’s not mad Itadori, not really, and that’s the problem. He’s mad at himself, for being so careless, for being so ready to lay down and die— for almost leaving Itadori alone. It’s Nanami's duty as an adult to put himself in the line of fire, to protect the young sorcerers. If it hadn’t been for the teen crashing through Mahito’s domain, Nanami would be dead. Itadori had saved him, when he hadn't even known he wanted to be saved.

Nanami sighs and goes to light another cigarette, but then Gojou is pushing a lollipop into his hand. He snatches the unlit cigarette away from Nanami, crushes it in the palm of his hand and throws it somewhere into the darkness. “They’re bad for you. Rot your lungs,” Gojou says with disgust. He mimics the repetitive hand-to-mouth action of smoking and admits, “The lollipop helps. It was hard after Getou left. I smoked several packs a day. Probably not the smartest idea I’ve ever had.” He laughs, but the sound is hollow, bitter.

It occurs to Nanami that this is the first time he’s ever seen Gojou without the playful façade, and he recognises that for all Gojou pretends otherwise, he’s not a god, untouchable and unaffected by the pains of loneliness and the human heart.

The lollipop gets shoved into the inside pocket of his suit, and as Nanami stands up to start walking away, he turns with a small smile says, “Thanks.” He trusts Gojou to know that he isn’t talking about the sweet.

Notes:

Massive thanks to 42 for the beta ♡

Nanami definitely needs a hug, right?

Thank you so much for reading! ♡ I appreciate every single kudos and comment. Your comments fuel me to keep writing!

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