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The coffee shop he liked to frequent was getting busier and busier by the day, and this was something Getou knew he would loathe. This morning, he stands in a line, (a line!!! A fucking line for the place that only he used to visit!) to place an order so simple that the barista could make it while they exchanged pleasantries.
The line extended outside the cafe doors (which was fucking insane) and Geto felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck.
Getou Suguru would always remember what his first life had been. He did not know then that it was the start of an unending cycle, one that would take everything, every single thing away from him. What he would come to realise was that everytime he died (every time he was killed), he was born again, with all memories of all his past lives, in a terrifying, never ending cycle. He did not remember the first life he had lived (truly lived). What he did remember was the life he realised he needed to live. He spent that life spiralling, losing himself in his realisations, and then losing himself in the eyes of Gojo Satoru.
He didn’t know then that Gojo was going to be his ruin and his salvation. He didn’t know that in that life and all the rest, he was going to be killed for his love (by the one he loved).
In that life he also learned the meaning of true loss (and blood, and pain, and an insurmountable loneliness that made every pain he suffered seem insignificant.)
In his next life, he fell immediately love, and he felt again, the hope that had been dashed just one life ago (the hope that maybe, maybe he could survive this, maybe maybe their love would survive this time), and he sheltered that hope, fragile and cracked as it was, and stuck with it.
(He thought he had a chance. He thought he could make it, with his love and with his hope, as if all he needed to make it were his heart, as if hundreds of thousands of people hadn’t tried that already and failed.)
(This time his hope was not only dashed, it was tortured, maimed and beaten till it didn’t represent the hope he had healed and fixed, till he was terrified of what had happened, what could happen.)
In his third life after the realisation, he kept his hope, despite everything in him that disbelieved, as a fuck you to a universe that insisted on punting his heart (and it’s hope) off a cliff and into the jaws of an unyeilding abyss. So, when the universe introduced him to the one he knew would cause his ruin, Getou focussed on what he knew.
Here is what he knew, what he would keep close to him during the inevitable fall his heart was going to take. Here is what would never change because in every life he lived, these are the things he could depend on (these are the things that killed him).
Here is what he knew (to be true, irrevocably, unshakably true): There was, in every universe, in every life, pain. There was pain for everyone, not in equal amounts and not in equal intensity. Life is fair only as far as to declare that everyone has the same amount of cards in the hand they have been dealt, no matter what the cards say.
Here is what he knows (in his heart, and even if the universe never says it out loud, he will continue believing because if he didn’t, he would fall apart): In every universe, there is Gojo Satoru. In every universe he exists as a constant pain in his ass, (as a constant question in his mind, as a constant certainty in his heart.)
In every universe, he can never stay with Gojo.
Here is what he knows (what he believes in as much as it is the start of his ruin): Every time he meets Gojo Satoru, he falls in love. Like a puppet controlled by invisible strings, his heart falters, and stops. And, like clockwork, every time that Gojo looks at him, his heart restarts.
Here is what he knows (and this one will kill him, it does and it has): They are never meant to be. He has stopped keeping track of the lives he has lived, of the universes there are. He has stopped keeping track of how it happens (how Gojo kills him), when and where. (He had, at first, thinking there was a way out, but all his organised efforts did nothing for his cause. No matter what he said, or did, Getou knew he would never survive.)
Here is what he knows (and this one scares him, it tells him something’s about himself that he is terrified of thinking about and even more terrified of analysing): He would take every opportunity he gets to be with Gojo every single time, even if it left him dead, and more broken in the end, even if every time geto died a part of his soul did too, even though he knew that this was just a slow, selfish way to kill himself, he would do it again and again and again.
Here is what he knew (there was no question about this one, he knew from the start and believed it till every end he faced): He would always forgive Gojo. He would always come back no matter how many times Gojo lifted his hand and struck him down like a man delivering God’s divine punishment (it was a salvation). He would always come back and always go back, Gojo was forgiven the moment he lifted his hand, before he even committed the act.
Here is what he knew: Gojo Satoru was the love of his life, the love of his many lives, and Getou could never have him. (He had made his peace with that.) (Had he?) (He hadn’t.)
“Hey!” Someone said in front of his face. “Hey, do you wanna come in? I've been holding this open for a minute now.”
And Getou looked up to meet a familiar face he knew would be there.
So it began, again