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Suguru watched as the ocean waves crashed against the golden sand without mercy, their flow as inevitable as the sun’s nearing peak in the afternoon sky. His friends remained near its edge, dancing around the water’s ebb and flow with hearty laughs. Gojo and Amanai were mocking some of the sea creatures that were unfortunate enough to have made their way near the shoreline, grins wide and joy contagious.
He rested beneath one of the large beach umbrellas Ieiri had toted in with her, its small patch of shade an oasis against the heat. It didn’t matter that the temperature was likely only several degrees cooler beneath its cover, it was better than roasting out in the open.
Than being exposed.
Sunlight reflected off the lenses of Gojo’s sunglasses as he turned towards Suguru’s resting place, waving a sea star in the air that was desperately flailing its legs about in an attempt to free itself from its giant oppressor. Gojo ignored its plight, drawing out every letter of Suguru’s last name like it was a bird call, the 'o' at the end increasing in volume until it seemed to drown out the nature all around them.
He simply smiled, watching as Gojo’s grin widened before he ran back into the sea, abandoning his prey in favor of finding some poor other creature to become his new toy.
It was nice, watching them be the kids they still were. He wished he could too, but there was a lump resting in the pit of Suguru’s stomach that he feared would grow if he tried to make it go away.
Plus, he didn’t have time for fun when worry was occupying every inch of his brain. The smallest hints of deep shadows were peeking out from beneath Gojo’s sunglasses as he pushed the frame up too high on his nose, too caught up in the moment to be aware of the aloof, cool appearance he usually tried to maintain.
Suguru knew he hadn’t been sleeping. He had barely been catching any rest either, these last few days. Yet every time he roused in the night, he’d found Gojo sitting up in their shared bed, eyes unseeing yet focused. Ever-vigilant, ever-alert.
He knew better than to believe that Gojo had slept at all since they’d left Jujutsu High.
There’d been a part of him that wanted to confront him immediately about the situation after that first long night when Suguru had risen with bleary eyes in the morning to a dressed and ready Gojo by his side. Back at school, it was a battle to get Gojo to so much as rise before noon, let alone be awake and ready to function as a human being.
But he’d let his suspicions lie, had falsely assumed that Gojo would have told him if something was wrong. Had thought they were close, comfortable enough that the space between them wouldn’t be filled with unspoken plights. That level of friendship had been surpassed long ago. Polite company was reserved for others, theirs was intertwined, ugly in its unabashed intermingling.
Days had went by and Gojo’s weariness had grown in his shoulders, in the way his eyes seemed to shrink from the light and he always, always kept his sunglasses on.
That in itself wasn’t unusual. The way he all but glued them to his face was new. A way to hide.
Gojo never hid. Not from him. Not anymore.
So when their group dispersed along the shore, the distance between them just long enough to allow for privacy, Suguru stood and made his way over to Gojo near the water. They stood in silence for a minute, a silent vigil against the waves.
“You haven’t slept,” Suguru watched for a reaction as he turned to face Gojo, looking for a crack in his chassis. There was none, save for the bright blue glow of his Six Eyes, active and alive. “You don’t plan to sleep tonight, do you?”
Gojo met his eye, no longer attempting to hide the fact that his technique was active. It’s not as if he had ever truly hidden it to begin with. Suguru had known, his suspicions were merely confirmed in this moment.
“It’s not a problem,” Gojo said, smacking his hand against Suguru’s chest. There was no weight behind the action. “You’re here with me, after all.” He tried to follow that up with a wink, but it fell flat.
He went to walk away, as if Suguru’s acknowledgement of the situation were all that mattered. Suguru caught Gojo’s wrist between his fingers, light enough that he could pretend it hadn’t happened if he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened.
Gojo stopped.
“Why are you doing this?” Suguru kept the frown from his face. If Gojo caught it, he wouldn’t get anywhere.
Gojo looked toward the sand, to their feet which were sinking between the grains. “It’s not a choice.”
Suguru tightened his grip, waited for Gojo to continue. The waves seemed to roar.
“I’m tired, Getou,” Gojo seemed to rip the truth from his chest, his free hand reaching up to adjust his sunglasses. He pulled them down a mere inch, the unchanging blue of his eyes brighter than the sky. “Consciousness is a curse.”
Suguru dropped his grip lower, brushing his fingertips against Gojo’s. He longed for him to hold his hand. Gojo remained unmoving, a statue. “On that we agree.”
Gojo laughed, too loud, too off-key. He thumbed his glasses back into place, pulled his hand away from Suguru’s as if their shared skin wasn’t the only thing keeping them grounded to the earth. Suguru repressed the urge to hold Gojo close and never let him leave again.
“What can I do?” Suguru asked. He wouldn’t let it be a plea.
Gojo met his eyes. “Hold me down tonight. Even if I can’t sleep, I’ll have you to protect me.”
Suguru nodded once, sharp. “Of course.”
With that, Gojo walked away, yelling incoherent things as he sprinted toward the water. Off to conquer more sea creatures as if nothing had changed.
That night, Suguru held every inch of Satoru’s tense skin between his hands and carried the exhaustion away, willing the stress into his body. It didn’t work, but their shared touch remained. He felt every inch of Satoru tremble as sleep never came, the way his breathing was forced into an unnatural, even rhythm. The way he twitched every time his shining blue eyes so much as slipped closed for a second.
Suguru merely held him closer, buried him inside his chest, and let his good dreams wash over Satoru when he couldn’t cling to the waking world any longer. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could offer. He hoped it was a comfort, even if it couldn’t be a cure.