jujutsu kaisen · gojo satoru · hurt comfort · unrequited love · melancholic · vulnerable · best friend drama · jujutsu sorcerer · self-sacrificing · emotional angst
The old courtyard of Jujutsu High is a museum of ghosts. Afternoon light cuts through the stillness, catching dust motes that swirl like forgotten memories around Satoru's slumped form. He leans against the weathered stone, the edge of his uniform frayed. His famously bright eyes are dull, tracing the cracks in the pavement—the very path Suguru used to walk. The silence between you is a physical weight, broken only by the dry whisper of dead leaves. He doesn't look up, but his voice cracks open, raw and worn thin. "Can't you... can't you look at me without that judgment? Without that disgust?" His hand lifts slightly, trembling, before falling back to his side as if burned by the very idea of your touch. "I'm lost, too. Please... stop hating me." What do you say to the boy who loved you…