The End Times — Gojo Satoru

the end times — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo satoru thinks he’s going to die because you’re giving him the silent treatment. (aka your first big fight with gojo).

contents. hurt/comfort, ooc, lovesick!gojo, you give him the silent treatment and he goes crazy, he is so pathetic in this one, tw obsessive behavior (he makes it EVERYONE’S problem), gojo’s pov

notes. loosely inspired by that one scene from yakuza fiance. not proofread whats new

Gojo knows he’s screwed up the second he steps into the common area of Jujutsu Tech’s dormitory. The air feels thick, wrong. And then there’s you, curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, but your eyes aren’t moving.

His grin falters for half a second before he masks it with his usual bravado. “I always knew you had a little freak in you, but reading your erotic books out in the open? Who knew my girl was such a perv.”

The joke usually earns him a laugh, a shove, maybe even a teasing retort. But tonight, the silence that follows is deafening.

The pit in his stomach grows.

“Sweetheart?” He tries again, waving a hand obnoxiously close to your face.

You finally react, swatting his hand away, but there’s no playfulness in the motion. Your eyes don't even meet his.

“You’re late,” you say flatly, still staring at your book. “Again.”

Gojo scoffs, irritation bubbling. Not at you, never at you, but at the damn book that’s getting more attention than him.

“Ah, you know how it is. Got held up in Kyoto,” he says with a shrug.

The words leave his mouth too easily. He doesn’t realize his mistake until you finally, finally look at him.

And it’s nothing like usual.

There’s no warmth in your gaze, no sparkle of amusement or exasperation. Instead, you pin him with a look so sharp it strips him bare, leaving nothing but the hollow weight in his chest.

“You missed our date.”

His breath catches. His throat goes dry. “I–”

“I’m not mad about that.”

Relief floods him too fast, too soon. His shoulders sag as he leans down, tilting his head for a well-earned kiss. “You’re the best. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

You pull away before he can touch you.

Gojo freezes.

“[Name]?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “You know, it’s funny.”

There’s nothing funny about this moment.

His pulse thrums as you continue, voice eerily steady. “That your mission was in Kyoto. I mean, we have a whole sister school there, full of sorcerers ready to handle a first-grade threat. So why would they need you, specifically?”

His stomach drops.

He’s never been good at guilt, not when he’s spent his whole life believing he’s untouchable. But now, standing before you, unable to meet your eyes, it sits heavy in his gut.

And you don’t let up.

“Of course, I asked around. Thought maybe I was overthinking it.” A humorless scoff escapes you. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my boyfriend was too busy meeting with his future bride.”

Gojo’s mouth opens, but for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to say.

“That’s–” he starts, then stops because, shit, you’re staring at him like he’s a stranger. Like he’s someone you can’t trust. The realization makes his stomach churn.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” you say bitterly, arms crossing as you lean back into the couch. “I mean, I’d love to hear how you were going to explain this one, Gojo Satoru.”

Full name. That’s how he knows he’s really fucked up.

“It’s not–It’s not what you think,” he says quickly, voice unusually hoarse. His usual bravado, his charm, none of it is coming to him. He doesn’t even know where to start. “I wasn’t–I wasn’t hiding it. I just–”

“You just forgot to tell me that your clan is arranging a marriage for you?” you cut in sharply. “That slipped your mind?”

“No! Yes—Fuck, that’s not what I mean,” he groans, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s never felt like this before. Like he’s scrambling for footing on uneven ground. “I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter, sweetheart. I wasn’t ever going to go through with it. You know that, right?”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Do I? I mean, Suguru seemed shocked when I didn’t know that these were recurring dates set by your clan.”

Gojo falters.

“You didn’t even think to tell me, Satoru,” you say, voice quieter now, but somehow even more devastating. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

His heart clenches. That’s not–God, that’s not what this is.

“Of course you deserve to know! But I—” he exhales sharply, trying to gather his words. “I just—Fuck, I thought it was stupid. I thought it wasn’t worth mentioning.”

You shake your head, looking almost tired now. “Right. Because I’m just supposed to assume you’d never go through with it. After your multiple dates with her. Because I’m supposed to read your mind, just like always.”

The weight of your words crashes into him, and Gojo suddenly realizes that this isn’t just about Kyoto. This isn’t just about one lie, one mistake. This is about every time he’s brushed things off, every time he’s let silence speak for him, every time he’s sat through those excruciating meetings, knowing he would never go through with it, but never once thinking about how it would feel for you to find out this way. This is about every time he’s expected you to just get him without him ever having to say a word.

This is about how, even after everything, you still don’t know how much he loves you.

And now, looking at you, Gojo is terrified that he’s already lost his chance to prove it.

“I’m going to sleep,” you stand up from your place on the couch. 

Gojo tries to follow you, “Listen, baby–”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I need some space.” you turn around to send him a teary glare and that stops him in his tracks. He had never seen you cry. And it tore him apart knowing that he was the cause. 

The sound of your door slamming echoes in Gojo’s mind. 

Gojo Satoru is the first one in class the next day.

He drums his fingers against the desk, restless in a way he can't explain, but he knows it has everything to do with the fact that he spent the entire night not sleeping. His mind was too busy replaying the way you had looked at him, no, the way you hadn’t looked at him.

He had left you alone and upset. He had made you feel like you were second to someone else. And worst of all, he hadn’t even realized it until it was too late.

“This must be a first.”

Gojo glances up as Suguru enters, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Gojo Satoru, on time? It must be the end times.”

He knows it’s a joke, but it might as well be the end times. Gojo doesn’t respond, just presses his lips into a thin line as he goes back to mentally reciting the apology speech he’s been revising in his head all night.

Then the shoji door slides open again.

You walk in with Shoko, your head tilted slightly as you whisper something to her, something he’ll never get to hear because you don’t so much as glance in his direction. Instead, you take a seat at the farthest desk, as if he isn’t even there.

A part of him withers away.

But Gojo Satoru isn’t one to give up.

If words won’t get your attention, he’ll just have to be Gojo Satoru about it. He leans back in his chair and stretches obnoxiously, before loudly exclaiming, “Yaga-sensei! Are those grey hairs from your recent divorce?”

He grins, waiting for the familiar sound of your laugh, for that little shake of your head, for you to scold him like always.

But you don’t even look at him.

Instead, he’s met with Geto and Shoko’s twin expressions of abject horror, and before he has a chance to register what’s happening–

BAM!

Yaga’s palm collides with his head, sending him face-first into his desk.

Even through the throbbing pain, he can only think about one thing.

You didn’t even react.

“And how exactly is she ignoring you?”

Shoko’s grumpy voice echoes through the morgue, where she’s been attempting to practice her technique. She’s clearly unimpressed that Gojo Satoru has decided to spam-call her instead of dealing with his own problems.

“She’s ignoring me, Shoko,” Gojo groans dramatically from the other side of the Jujutsu Tech campus, rubbing the fresh bump on his head as he stands in front of your door. “I’ve been knocking for an hour. She’s in there. I know she’s in there, but she won’t answer.”

“Maybe she finally got tired of your bullshit,” Shoko says dryly. “Honestly, I don’t know why it took her this long to hold you accountable. She’s let your bad behavior slide for way too long.”

“Why are we talking about me like I’m some kind of dog?!”

Shoko ignores him.

“From the sound of it, you really messed up. I mean, who keeps a marriage a secret from their girlfriend?” She pauses, then adds with a smirk in her voice, “Oh, right. You.”

Gojo groans, pressing his forehead against your door. “You and I both know that’s not what happened. But she doesn’t. And she won’t even give me the time of day to explain.”

Shoko sighs. “Give her time to cool down.”

“And what, let her decide she wants to run off and marry some other guy? Move to a cute little beach town in Enoshima, start a family, have three kids, and leave all Jujutsu sorcery behind?”

There’s a long pause before Shoko makes a disgusted sound. “O-oi. Keep your weirdly detailed fantasies to yourself.”

“I’m just being realistic,” he insists, clutching his flip phone dramatically.

Shoko promptly hangs up on him.

Gojo stares at the device for a moment before slowly lowering it, exhaling hard.

Then he rests his head against your door again, defeated.

But Gojo Satoru was never one to admit defeat, so he tries again. He returns to your door the very next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“[Name]!” he chirps. “I bought us some parfait! Let’s talk things over, yeah?”

Silence.

Not even the sound of movement.

But Gojo Satoru is not easily discouraged.

So Gojo Satoru comes again the next morning.

“[Name]!” he knocks again, this time balancing a slice of strawberry cake in one hand. “This is all my fault, so come out and let me apologize properly!”

Nothing.

Gojo sighs, leaning against the doorframe, about to knock again when—

Your phone rings.

His breath catches as he presses his ear to the wood.

“Hi, Suguru?”

His heart stops.

“Yeah, we’re still on for the movie. I’m just about to leave right now.”

For the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru understands what people mean when they say they feel like they’ve been punched in the gut.

Because you’re going to Suguru.

You’re not just ignoring him, you’re choosing someone else.

His fingers twitch at his sides as a feeling he doesn’t like at all creeps into his chest. It’s something ugly, something unfamiliar. Something that feels a lot like jealousy. Was that how you felt?

He wants to knock again, wants to demand that you open the door, look at him, let him fix this before you walk away from him any further.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he presses his lips into a thin line, shoves his hands into his pockets, and forces himself to step away from your door.

Forces himself to give you the space you deserved.

You don’t know why you relent so easily.

You shouldn’t. Not after the way he lied, the way he kept something so important from you.

And yet, when you hear him pacing outside your door, his nervous energy practically seeping through the walls, you feel something crack.

He’s been outside your room for the nth time this week. Every day, like clockwork, he’s knocked. Brought your favorite snacks. Talked to you through the door, filling the silence with his ridiculous banter, even when you refused to answer.

You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your blanket a little tighter. You should stay angry. But you can't.

You sigh, pressing your forehead to your knee.

Maybe it’s time to stop punishing the both of you.

With a deep breath, you stand, crossing the room to the door. When you open it, Gojo nearly stumbles forward, mid-step in his pacing.

His eyes snap to yours, wide and filled with so much desperate hope it makes your chest ache.

And the way his face lights up like you’ve just handed him the entire world tells you that, maybe, you were never going to be able to stay mad at him forever.

But you’re here, leaning on your door frame with your arms crossed, your nails digging into your skin as you glare at the man who has spent the last ten minutes tripping over his words, looking wrecked in a way you’ve never seen before. His hair is messier than usual, lips are parted like he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t know where to start.

Finally, you scoff, breaking the silence. “If you don’t have anything to say, I’m going back into my room.”

“No!,” Gojo steps forward instinctively, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. And after everything, he is. “I screwed up.”

You give him a deadpan look. “Oh, really?”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, I really fucked up.”

Silence.

You should say something. You should demand an explanation, yell, maybe even cry, but you’re so tired. You’ve spent days twisting yourself into knots over this, convincing yourself you never meant as much to him as he did to you.

And then Gojo says it.

“I should’ve told you.” His voice is hoarse. “I should have told you after the first meeting. After the first second they brought it up.” He swallows hard. “But I was stupid. I thought if I ignored it, if I went through the motions, if I waited for the right moment… then it wouldn’t matter. That it would be over before you ever had to know.”

You shake your head, letting out a hollow laugh. “Satoru, do you even hear yourself? Do you get what it was like for me to find out from someone else? To hear that the person I–” you cut yourself off, but the damage is done. You see it in the way his breath hitches, in the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you.

“The person you what?” he asks softly, pleading.

You clench your jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

Your shake your head. “You lied to me.”

“I know,” he says, and the sheer brokenness in his voice makes your throat tighten. “I know, sweetheart. And I swear to you that I never meant to. I never wanted to hurt you.” he exhales shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear on everything, I was never going to go through with it. I never even showed up to any of the dates, so they kept ambushing me under the guise of missions! I sat through every single one of those goddamn meetings thinking about how ridiculous it was, how there was only ever one person I wanted.”

He stops himself, inhaling sharply.

And then, quieter, almost afraid:

“How there’s only ever you.”

The words hit you like a fist to the chest.

Gojo watches you carefully, breathless, waiting. Hoping. He’s given you the truth, raw and unfiltered, and now it’s up to you.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in his world that makes you believe him.

For the first time in a week, your lips find his, and Gojo swears he can finally breathe again. The warmth of your palm against his cheek, the way your fingers curl slightly as if grounding yourself in him. It’s enough to make him melt.

"You’re so insufferably cheesy, Satoru," you murmur against his lips, your breath warm, teasing. "It makes me so angry that I love it." A pause, a soft exhale. "But I forgive you."

His grin is instant, smug and shameless. "That was good, huh?" He tilts his head, cerulean eyes twinkling. "I’m willing to bet your heart skipped a beat."

You roll your eyes, but you kiss him again, slower this time, because, damn it, he’s right.

extra!

“I demand some extra loving!” Satoru sprawls dramatically across your bed, limbs hanging off the edge like a defeated king.

You barely spare him a glance, flipping a page in your book as you lie comfortably on your stomach. “And why, exactly, do you deserve that?”

He lifts his head, pouting. “I deserve it after a week’s worth of psychological trauma. Don’t think I forgot that you ditched me for Suguru.”

“Oh… that.”

“Yeah. That.” His voice is thick with exaggerated betrayal.

You finally look at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “It was a fake phone call, Satoru. You were just so insufferable camping outside my door that I had to make up an excuse.”

His jaw drops. “Huh?!”