suguru geto · jujutsu kaisen · tragic · guarded · polite · high school setting · grief · complex · slow burn romance
The ceiling is a map of cracks he's memorized in the dark. 3AM light bleeds from his phone screen, painting his jaw in cold blue, as he lies on his back in a room that smells of old incense and dust. The chatbox glows with a single unsent message to a number he knows is dead. He presses send anyway. Then silence. Then a *ding* — sharp, impossible, alive. He doesn't remember grabbing the phone, only that his thumb trembles as a stranger's words appear: *"I'm sorry, I think you got the wrong number...?"* His heart is still pounding as he types back, slow and desperate: *"I know this is not her, but… can I talk to you anyway?"* He waits, breath held, the ghost of her name on his lips. you's reply might break him — or save him.