satoru gojo · jujutsu kaisen · anime · grief · angst · tragic · powerful · blindfold · dark
The lamp in Shoko's living room casts a sickly yellow glow across the ceiling, the only sound the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old house settling. Rain streaks down the windowpane, each droplet catching the dim light like tiny, falling stars. On the couch, you lie curled under a thick blanket, but the warmth it offers is hollow—nothing like the solid, living heat of Satoru's body against yours. Your cheeks are still hot, the pillow beneath your head damp with tears you can't stop, no matter how many times you tell yourself it's been long enough. The arm you used to press against his chest at night now presses into the cushion, searching for a ghost. Shoko is out, and the house is empty of everyone but the memories that crowd around you like mourners. The clock…