Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ocean waves beat fierce against the shore of endless sands. The current is unending, with a force strong enough to make continents drift apart and eventually together. A forever push and pull, tug-of-war that tested the waters in a battle to discover one simple veracity. Which was stronger? The unstoppable against an unmoving, it was never ending.

Yet, not even eagles, as regal as they are, are born knowing how to fly.

For a world so blind, there was one inevitable truth that all within’ it had grown to accept. Since his birth, his conception, his very being, Gojo Satoru was the strongest. It wasn’t only himself who told him so. His supposed superiors would gaze at him in awe at his inheritance gifted by god. Spoiled to be the best, trained to be unbreakable, grown to be unloved.

His world was more than theirs. A constant influx of information, a never ending cycle. To see everything and nothing, the world’s end and beginning for a thousand miles and more. To blink was nothing, even behind closed eyes the world seemed so, so beautiful. Greens of vibrant hues on spectrums unable to be seen dotting leaves of trees near and far. Shades of gray from white to black, dotted with invisible static.

He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t perceive. No, that wasn’t right. There was a time, once. Though, before his perception emerged, he was only a child. To be young and naive to the world of curses that would grow to haunt him. Envious of power, envious of being able to be everything there ever was. All behind his eyes. Those azure eyes that held infinities behind them. Endless hues of blue that danced in the rays of sun that others couldn’t quite capture.

Limitless.
He was limitless.

Somehow, it seemed the very concept was flawed. To be limitless claimed to be one without limits, but to be that would be more than human. Or would it be less?

All humans have limits, and despite embodying the being of limitless, Gojo Satoru was no exception. When did the sun not hurt his eyes, sending bolts of lightning through his brain, more stricken than thunder? When did he last breathe without a bounty on his head where he could rest soundly through the night? When last did his infinity become finite, turned off from the slow passage of time that objects thrown at him would subject themselves to, both at and against his will?

The world was blinding. Like the fluorescent beam of an overexpressive electric lightbulb that hums the tune of long nails on a chalkboard. Bright so that even the darkest tinted sunglasses fail to completely block it, nor the heaviest blindfold offering the briefest reprieve.
It was everything.
Then nothing.
Everything.
Nothing.
The clock ticks in the simplest of rhythms that nonetheless strike hot iron in his ears. The curtains closed from dusk to dawn as he sat, or rather, was rooted to his bedroom floor. Rain poured outside, accompanying the never-ending white noise that hissed more threateningly than a snake ever could. Was it even threatening? To everyone else, the room was dark. To Satoru? He couldn’t tell.

It was his room, his eyes told him so. He came here to relax, to find comfort in what little he could. The carpet the same as it had always been, the deep blue and ivory bedsheets rippling soft as the fan blew a subtle breeze beneath them. To anyone else, these moments would be peaceful. To him, he was in an unyielding nightmare.
When did it start?
He didn’t know how long he was trapped, unmoving. That wasn’t right either, he was trembling. Not scared though, the strongest didn’t get scared.
When did it end?
It didn’t matter, he had dealt with this before, and he would do it again. He convinced himself of this despite his head hanging between his legs, his body drenched in sweat. His breathing shaky at best, nonexistent at worst.

The room flashed with sudden lightning that the thunderous warning had failed to announce. Lava coated his every nerve, the clothing on his skin clinging too tightly. All for those azure eyes, glowing aggressively as they forced the flickering of infinity between non-existent ultimatums.

Two knocks.
Followed by three.
As the door to his dorm slowly crept open, his body stiffened as his eyes snapped to the movement. But, his unkind glare was unwarranted, not that it lasted long anyway, as the throbbing of his self-inflicted migraine refused to allow him focus. Burying his face back between his knees, which he desperately clung to as a lifeline, a soft voice called to him from the doorway.

“Satoru?”

Words fallen on deaf ears. If the other had heard it, then he made no move of acknowledgement. The door closed swift and soundless as muffled footsteps made their way over to crouch in front of the boy who had wedged himself between his closet and dresser. The voice called his name a few times more. No response. Entirety swam beneath tightly closed eyelids as the self-proclaimed strongest’s resolve wavered. Sparks of pain dashing through panic induced lungs and an overtly tense body left the mocha eyes that seemingly bore into his being speechless with worry.

Apprehension to admit weakness came naturally to Satoru. What would happen should someone discover such needless distress? They would take advantage. Tear him up and strip him of his strongest title. He refused to let that happen. He was fine. He always was fine. This type of thing just sometimes happened, that’s all. He was fine.

Another flash was enough to turn his wishful thinking on its head. He was not fine.

“Too much.” Came a choked reply that nearly died at his lips. Satoru’s hands reaching above his head to pull at hair white as snow in a desperate attempt to allow himself cover.
The presence in front of him retreated and left out the door once more for a few moments. In the brief minutes of sudden loneliness, tears threatened to spill. His mind chanted endless taunts, over and over.

“You’re weak.” His own words return to torment him.

“Weak.” His mind spiraled.

“Weak.” It grew louder.

…

“You’re-”

“Satoru?”
The same soothing presence that had retreated from his room cut through his thoughts once more. He felt himself lost in the words that had only spoken his name.

“Satoru, it’s okay. Breathe for me, you’re going to be alright.”
Who was speaking?

Something was said before, only semi-songs of conversation making their way through.

“...the storm…”
“Focus on me, you’re okay.”

Slowly lifting his head, he was greeted with the same soft mocha eyes that previously scanned him in a way he thought harsh. Without thinking, infinity automatically was rendered useless. Hands glided their way around him in a gentle hold, calming the flashes of entirety that struck the senses, once immobilizing. The sounds of rain fading to background noise as warmth overcame him. There was calm.

He felt a light blanket drag over his shoulders, while a blindfold eased its way over his eyes. He knew this scent, and only one other person had the key to his room.

Hoarse words chorused over the growing quiet,
“Suguru?”

A gentle response,
“I’m here.”

Satoru brought his hands up to embrace the warmth he felt, his search rewarded. His body relaxing with the thrum of a steady heartbeat, the once whipping wind now merely a whistle against the window. The ticking of the clock, unheard as he melted in the arms of his one and only. Words didn’t need to be said, they were already understood. Suguru always understood him, more than anyone ever could.

For a world so blind, there was one inevitable truth that all within’ it had grown to accept. Since his birth, his conception, his very being, Gojo Satoru was one of the strongest. But, most importantly, to the one who knew him, he was human. To be limitless claimed to be one without limits, but that was not true. He was not limitless, nor ever intended to be.

He was human, and for Suguru that was enough.