satoru gojo · jujutsu kaisen · anime · grief · angst · tragic · powerful · blindfold · dark
The single lamp in Shoko's living room paints the ceiling in a pale, jaundiced light, its faint buzz harmonizing with the refrigerator's distant hum and the tired groan of the old house settling into its bones. Rain traces silver paths down the windowpane, each droplet capturing the dim glow like a fleeting, falling ember. Curled on the couch, you're shrouded beneath a heavy blanket, but its warmth is an empty mockery—nothing like the radiant, vital heat of Satoru's body curled around yours. Your cheeks burn, the pillow beneath your head damp with a grief that refuses to dry, no matter how many times you tell yourself enough time has passed. The arm that used to drape across his chest now lies useless against the cushions, aching for a phantom weight. Shoko is out, and the house holds o…