THREE FAMILY REMAINS

🪦

JUN SHRUGGED ON A BLACK SWEATER over the tank top she was wearing as she walked out of her room, closing the door behind her. Despite the humid heat that crept into every building, a chill had nestled in her bones, refusing to leave. Shoko, sitting on the sofa in the common room, wearing shorts and an oversized white t-shirt that regularly slipped from her right shoulder, revealing the strap of her black bra, turned around when she heard Jun return. On the sofa's backrest rested the book Shoko had gotten from the library earlier that day, which she had been discussing with Jun for the past hour.

"Hey, get this," Shoko started, a look on her face that might've freaked other people out, but Jun knew it well enough at this point: morbid fascination. "This poison here — Hemlock — was used to poison prisoners in ancient Greece."

"That's dark," Jun commented as she opened the fridge, got herself an energy drink, and immediately took multiple big gulps. The intense sweetness sent jolts through her body, setting her nerves abuzz. She went to the sofa and plopped down opposite Shoko, pulling a throw blanket over her lap. Shoko gave the blanket, and then Jun, an odd look. "How's it work?"

Shoko frowned at the page. "It's a paralytic poison. Most common cause of death: asphyxiation."

"Because it paralyzes the respira...— fuck. What's it called? The breathing area...?" Jun dragged the nails of her thumb and index finger down her throat to demonstrate what she meant.

"Respiratory tract. Yes." Shoko nodded, adjusting her sleeve once again. "That was also the poison that was used in Socrates' forced suicide execution."

"Fun."

Shoko snorted. "Or something."

"Are you talking about poisons?" A shrill voice made them twist in their seats, their eyes falling on Ikehara Mayu, one of the first years, who had just come out of her room. Her face — rosy apple cheeks and pale pink lips — was pulled into an expression of wariness mixed with shock. When Jun and Shoko's gazes (one scowling, one neutral) landed on her, she instantly snapped her mouth shut, her eyes as gray as a dead body's skin widening, almost fearful. "Sorry, I— I didn't mean to interrupt."

Jun looked her up and down, from her peach-colored hair decorated with multiple butterfly clips in various colors, to her mint green camisole, baby pink low-waist jeans held up by a silver belt, and her white sneakers with strawberries stitched into the fabric. Ikehara Mayu was a pastel painting personified. Maybe that was why Jun hadn't interacted much (correction: at all) with the girl yet — she'd never had much interest in soft pastel paintings, the happiness captured in the delicate brushstrokes, always feeling more understood, touched, by darker colors and motifs.

"That's fine," Shoko said, her voice softer than usual. Which made Jun frown at the back of her head. Ikehara seemed to relax after the reassurance, a delicate smile appearing on her lips, though her posture was still taut like wire, especially when her strangely piercing eyes flickered to Jun. Shoko noticed and chuckled in her usual dry manner as she poked Jun with a reprimanding look. "Stop doing the scary face."

"That's my face," Jun deadpanned.

Shoko rolled her eyes, turning back around. "Ignore her," she said to Ikehara, waving her hand dismissively in Jun's direction, as if her presence didn't matter, as if she was just a necessary evil to be endured, to be ignored. The armor around her fastened itself tighter to her skin. "D'you wanna join us?"

Ikehara's hand formed a fist in front of her chest, tightening and loosening as she was thinking. "I— uh..." Her gaze flitted to Jun, unsure.

"Jun doesn't bite," Shoko said.

Jun cocked her head to the side, her dark eyes glinting dangerously. "Don't I?"

Ikehara's larynx bobbed as she swallowed.

"Stop that!" Shoko exclaimed, kicking Jun in the shin. Jun yelped. Shoko, lips stretched into an easing smile that Jun had never seen on her before, gestured to the unoccupied armchair next to the sofa, angled toward the coffee table and the TV placed on a dresser across from them. "Jun's just messing with you."

Ikehara smiled and sunk into the chair, but as she kicked off her sneakers, revealing light blue socks with clouds on them, her gaze landed on something behind Jun. Though, before Jun could turn around, or even register the footsteps coming closer, two arms wrapped themselves around her shoulders from behind. She immediately stiffened, her heart smashing against her ribcage in shock, leaving a panicked bruise on it. But then, white streaks of hair became visible in the corner of her eye, and the panic faded, being replaced by the usual annoyance touching on anger.

With his obnoxiously loud voice, Gojo said, "Actually can't be too sure with our dear Jun, she's a little freak."

Jun turned her head to face Gojo, her expression cold as ice — and instantly regretted it as she saw the shit-eating grin splitting his face in half. (If she noticed the closeness between them, no she didn't.) A flare of irritation thawed the ice in her complexion. "What the fuck did you just call me?" she asked, not entirely sure if she was referring to 'our dear Jun' or 'freak' — both had caught her off guard, like two subsequent punches in the gut.

"You can't really deny it," he sing-songed. "Your favorite things to doodle are skulls and spiders."

Jun's lip curled, displeased that she couldn't say anything against that. "Let go."

"Aww, no witty comeback?" Gojo leaned even closer as he spoke, his nose almost touching hers.

Instinctively, she jerked back. But she didn't get far, his arms like a vice around her, trapping her in place. Gojo snickered at her reaction, which earned him a deadly glare. "If you don't let go of me right now, I will scratch your eyes out," Jun hissed. "How's that for a comeback?"

Gojo tutted, shaking his head scoldingly as he let her go. "Now, now, no need to get violent."

Jun showed him the middle finger as he plopped down on the couch between her and Shoko. The gesture only made him cackle, though, causing Jun to roll her eyes. But instead of kicking him off the couch and relishing in the pained gasp he wouldn't be able to suppress, Jun took a sip of her energy drink, burying her violent urges six feet under.

A fragile peace had settled between Jun and Gojo after their argument and Gojo's clumsy apology. The battle they had found themselves in ever since they had first met had come to a close — or at least a temporary truce. They weren't friends or anything like that, and Gojo still did his best to annoy Jun, resulting in a sharp remark on her part, but it was less malicious, not meant to stab a knife into already bruised skin.

"Kids, behave, or I'll ground you both," Shoko spoke up, tone dry. "You're not making a good impression on Ikehara, here."

Jun couldn't give a single fuck, if she was being totally honest. Ikehara could think of her whatever the hell she wanted, Jun wasn't planning on becoming best friends with her.

"Oh, I don't mind," Ikehara said, a nervous smile on her lips.

"See, Shoko?" He rested her head on Shoko's shoulder. "She doesn't mind that Jun is trying her hardest to flirt with me."

"Excuse you?!" Jun snapped.

Gojo blew her a kiss.

Fuck their truce, she was going to kill this asshole right then and there.

"Can you stop being annoying for a second, it's been a really long day."

Geto's shadow fell over Jun, and she looked up at him, immediately noticing the weariness in his body, dragging his shoulders toward the ground. His face was devoid of color, the circles under his eyes gray, his skin as pale as a ghost's, and his usually purple irises seemed dulled as if the color had been leached right out of them. A frown etched itself on Jun's features, concern infusing her bloodstream— Concern? Since when was that a thing? But as she watched Geto sit down on the carpet next to her, pinching his nose, eyes closed, jaw clenched, as if fighting tooth and nail against an oncoming headache — or, more likely, against nausea, judging from the way his other hand gripped his shirt above his stomach so tightly his knuckles were turning white — she felt worry strangling her.

And she wasn't the only one: Gojo abandoned his pillow (Shoko's shoulder) and leaned forward in his seat, gaze fixed solely on Geto. The arrogance had drained from his face and was replaced with dark indentations lining his forehead. His expression mirrored Jun's: his concern for his best friend was clear as day. "Do you need anything?" he asked, his voice as soft as velvet.

Geto softly shook his head. "No, I'm good."

Gojo hesitated briefly, his hand hovering over Geto's shoulder, but then he just nodded and let him be, leaning back against the couch again.

"How'd the mission go?" Shoko asked, putting the book of poisons on the coffee table.

"Fine." Gojo shrugged. "Wasn't anything special. Two Grade 1 curses, some Grade 2." He paused. Then: "Suguru absorbed a few of them."

Ikehara's eyes widened, almost comically. "Isn't it scary? Fighting curses all by yourself?"

"Nah," Gojo said, a lazy smile on his lips as he looked at Geto. "We got each other, right Suguru?" Geto hummed weakly. Gojo grinned. "We're the strongest."

"Guess I didn't miss much, then," Jun commented, a speck of bitterness tainting her words. The mission had been last-minute, Jun was aware of that. So, when Yaga-sensei found Gojo and Geto hanging out together, Jun nowhere near them, he'd sent them on the mission without her. It was nothing to be bothered about, but Jun couldn't help the twist of her gut and the stab of irritation when Yaga-sensei had told her that the boys were doing this by themselves. That she wasn't needed.

Geto's head lolled onto the couch, his cheek squished against the leather, and his forehead found a resting place nestled against Jun's thigh.

Her heart seized uncomfortably in her chest, and her muscles tensed. Something shifted in her stomach, as if a hand wrapped around her organs and twisted. But then she found herself relaxing, warmth emanating from Geto's touch, despite the blanket and sweatpants separating them. His hair was a mess; half of it had escaped from the hair tie that usually kept it tightly secured in a bun, and without thinking, she reached for the hair tie and carefully pulled it out. Unprompted, Geto lifted his arm toward her, his hand shaking, more violently than usual due to the exhaustion wracking his body, and Jun slipped the tie onto his wrist.

Ever since the moment they'd shared — the moment when his touch had burned her cheek, when Jun had wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them, succumb to the temptation of burying herself in his warmth — a new understanding had formed between them. And just like Jun had a hard time interpreting abstract art pieces, she had difficulty figuring out how to deal with that.

She felt eyes on her, and when she lifted her head, she was met with a dumbstruck look from Shoko and an expression on Gojo's face that Jun couldn't decipher, his gaze moving back and forth between Geto and Jun.

But then Gojo blinked, shaking himself out of... whatever that was, settled in more comfortably and directed his eyes to the ceiling. His typical grin returned to his lips, though slightly strained, as if he couldn't stretch his skin enough, and when he spoke, his tone was as aggravating as always, though Jun could swear it was more over-the-top than normal: "Did we miss anything while we were saving the world for the millionth time?"

Shoko scoffed. "You did not save the world. And definitely not for the millionth time."

"Rude," Gojo protested, putting a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

"They discussed poisons," Ikehara spoke up. The book Shoko and Jun had been reading sat on her thighs as she leafed through it; she looked a little disturbed and also a little sick while reading.

"Poisons?" Gojo repeated. "Why the fuck would you discuss poisons?"

"So I know what to put in your coffee the next time you bully me into making one for you," Jun deadpanned.

"What can I say? You just make the best coffee." He smiled at her, sickly sweet, and Jun felt like vomiting.

"No, she doesn't," Shoko said, indignant. "She makes the strongest coffee, which your sleep deprived asses need, but definitely not the best."

Gojo flicked Shoko's hair. "Blah, blah, blah."

"I think wolfsbane would do," Ikehara said. Everyone turned to her, perplexed. "To... poison his coffee." Insecurity crawled into her demeanor, and she swallowed, pressing her lips into a tight line.

"Hm. Noted," Jun said.

Maybe they could get along after all.

"Hey, don't gang up on me!" Gojo lamented.

A chuckle came from Geto, his shoulders shaking. "Please, don't encourage her," he said to Ikehara, his voice slightly hoarse. "I wanna keep 'em around a little longer. And that doesn't work if one's dead and the other in prison."

A shiver crawled up Jun's spine, and she wasn't sure if it was because of Geto's words, his raspy voice, or the coldness that had taken up residence in her bone marrow. Hoping it was the latter, she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself. Which earned her a bewildered look from Gojo: "How are you cold? It's super warm in here."

"That is the lack of sleep," Shoko said before Jun could defend herself.

Geto lifted his head, rubbing his eyes, before directing his gaze to Jun wrapped up in the blanket and then to Gojo. "You're the same most days," he told his best friend, his lips quirking up into a small smirk.

Shoko shook her head. "How come none of you have a healthy sleep schedule?"

"I do," Ikehara piped up, raising her hand as if she were in a classroom.

Shoko let out a little laugh.

Ikehara grinned.

"Don't lump me in with them, I sleep well," Geto said, stretching his arms over his head and running a hand through his messy black hair. A little color painted his cheeks again, and his eyes had returned to their natural shade of purple; he didn't look like he was about to drop dead any second anymore. Jun felt something unravel in her chest, allowing her to breathe easier.

Gojo crossed his arms, his eyebrows moving up on his forehead, almost disappearing in his hairline. "You stayed up until dawn to finish a book."

"That—" Geto pointed his finger at Gojo. "That was an exception."

"You make quite a few exceptions," Gojo teased.

"You're all impossible," Shoko sighed.

Ikehara let out a giggle as clear as a bell.

A vibration in the pocket of Jun's sweatpants made the others' bickering fade into the background. She fumbled for her phone, checking the message she had gotten. It was from her father. Jun frowned. Why was he texting her? They'd meet up tomorrow anyway — same time, same place —, so what couldn't wait until then? Nervous needles pierced her chest as she opened the message: Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow! I don't know if Shoko told you, but there's something I need to talk to you about. Something I need to ask you. But don't worry, it's nothing bad, I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Love you.

Jun's frown deepened, worry nagging her brain. Why did he feel the need to give her a heads-up if it wasn't anything bad? She flipped her phone shut without typing a reply; she wouldn't know how to respond anyway, not with her thoughts spiraling into an endless abyss of possibilities, one worse than the other.

"Jun, I know you love daydreaming about me naked, but there's no need to stare at me like this."

Gojo's mocking voice tore her out of her thoughts, out of the abyss, back into the present, and she blinked at him, only now realizing her gaze had been trained on his chest.

"Oh, please," Geto mumbled, no doubt rolling his eyes.

"What?" she asked, dumbfounded.

Gojo's brows furrowed above his sunglasses. "You OK? I expected you to tear my head off for that comment."

"I'm fine, just tired" Jun stated, voice lacking any emotion. "I think I'm gonna turn in."

"It's not even 9:00," Shoko said after glancing at her wristwatch.

"And?" Jun bit back, more aggressive than intended. And as she saw Shoko's face tighten, her lips pressed into a thin line, she said, to pour oil on troubled water: "You said my sleep schedule's fucked; I'm taking that to heart."

Shoko frowned. "Uh-huh."

Jun could hear that she wasn't convinced in the slightest — and she couldn't even blame her for that; she wouldn't believe herself either. But whatever. She untangled herself from the blanket and heaved herself off the couch onto her feet. And without looking at anyone, she walked away. Before she could disappear into her room, though, she heard Gojo call a confused "G'night!" after her.

🪦

RAIN DROPS PATTERED AGAINST the restaurant window like hundreds of tiny bullets, the noise almost deafening to Jun's ears in her anxious state. The world outside looked like a watercolor painting, with colors blurring together due to the rain. Subconsciously, she was tapping her nails against the smooth surface of the table she sat at, waiting for her father to show up, the incessant clacking accompanying her spinning thoughts. What did her father want to talk to her about? Why did he need to warn her beforehand? What could be so important?

He needed to fucking show up before she lost her damn mind—!

"Jun," a deep voice, soft like a warm embrace, pried her out of the grip of her nervousness, and she looked up at her dad. His hair — black, though slightly lighter than Jun's — was wet, water droplets had caught in his eyebrows and lashes, and his clothes — brown trousers, and a beige button-up shirt — were soaked, but it didn't seem to deter him, judging from the wide smile on his thin lips and the obvious joy glistening in his coffee brown eyes (the one feature they actually had in common). "It's good to see you, dear."

And, his happiness spreading to her, Jun felt her mouth stretch into a smile of her own. It felt foreign on her face, like she was speaking a language she had just started to learn, her tongue struggling to wrap around its basic sounds — but it also felt... nice. Her panicked thoughts quieted when Jun stood up to wrap her arms around Noda Haru's wide shoulders, maybe a little too tightly, afraid he could slip through her fingers and leave her alone just like her mother had done. "Hey, Dad."

"Jun, I'm soaking wet," he remarked but reciprocated her hug just as tightly.

When the waitress greeted them, they settled into their booth and ordered tea and their usual meals. The rain drumming against the window didn't seem as loud as before, and Jun felt herself relax in her skin, her heart finding comfort between her lungs instead of beating violently against her ribcage. Their tea arrived a few minutes later in a tea set ornately painted with cherry blossoms, and Jun wrapped her hands around the cup, warming her hands that ran cold despite the hot and stifling humidity — this time, though, the reason wasn't the lack of sleep because, for once, she had gotten a decent amount; no, the cold was a direct result of the worry that had frozen her blood.

"I heard you had a mission this week," her father started after taking a sip of tea. "Did it go well?"

Jun's mind first went to the mission Gojo and Geto had had yesterday and she was about to tell him that, no, she hadn't been needed on that one (which had stung more than she'd expected), but then she remembered that she'd had a mission earlier this week; the one where she had almost been buried alive because of the boys' reckless behavior. And she scoffed at the memory. "As well as it could with those two idiots fucking shit up—"

"Language, Jun."

"—whenever they fucking can."

Haru breathed a laugh. "What did they do this time?"

Jun ran a hand through her hair, feeling the irritation burn through her organs like acid. "They caused the building to collapse — while I was still inside." She refrained from using any profanities, even if her tongue twitched with the desire to shower them with curses, Gojo more than Geto. Although Geto wasn't entirely innocent either; it was just a lot easier for her to be mad at Gojo.

"Were you hurt?" Worry infused his words, and his eyes glistened with protectiveness.

"No, I got out in time."

Relief washed over him. "Still. That's reckless and irresponsible, you could've died." His hand tightened around his teacup. "I might need to talk some sense into them when I see them next."

"Ohh, can I watch?" A grin — almost sadistic — stole onto Jun's mauve lips. She'd give everything she fucking owned to see Gojo and Geto get scolded by the force that was Noda Haru. Yes, her father was a soft-hearted and kind person. But when it came to his daughter, he didn't fuck around.

Their food arrived a moment later: a salmon sushi set for Jun and a mixed sushi set for Haru. After he thanked the waitress, he handed Jun chopsticks. And while Jun poured some soy sauce into the black dipping bowl, he finally addressed the cancerous thoughts eating away at her brain, "About that thing I wanted to talk about—"

A knock on the window cut him off; startled her half to death. Jun's hand jerked, some of the soy sauce spilling onto the table, pooling like a puddle of blood. A string of swear words slipped past her lips in a hiss before she snapped her head toward the direction of the window — to see Gojo pointing a finger at the mess she'd made, laughing as if he'd never seen anything funnier.

"Speak of the devil," Haru said, clearly amused.

Jun didn't share the sentiment. "... And he shall appear."

Next thing she knew, Gojo hurried away, and a few seconds later, he stood next to their table. "What a coincidence to run into you!" he greeted them excitedly before bowing to Jun's father as a form of respect. Which was when she noticed that, despite not carrying an umbrella, Gojo showed no signs of having been out in the rain; the infinity surrounding his body, preventing anything from touching him, had repelled every water droplet that dared to get close. Jun pursed her lips. Lucky bastard.

"Coincidence, huh?" Jun crossed her arms, spearing him with a heated glare. Not only was this definitely not a coincidence, but he came in here completely dry, parading around his god-like technique.

Gojo smiled enigmatically.

"Gojo. Nice to see you," Haru said.

"Likewise, Noda. I heard your latest mission was a success." Politeness easily rolled off of Gojo's tongue, and for a moment, Jun thought she saw the person that his family made him, the Gojo Clan's prodigal son, the messiah of the jujutsu world, instead of the silly, annoying, arrogant jerk that she got to see on a daily basis.

"No need to flatter me. I'm just doing my job." Haru waved him off. "Why don't you join us?"

Jun's gaze darkened as she looked at her dad. He ignored her.

"Oh, I'd love to," Gojo accepted, grinning from ear to ear, and promptly slid into the seat next to Jun, his shoulder brushing against hers. Lightning bolts charged through her body. She scooted closer to the window, breaking contact, creating distance between them. Gojo didn't seem to notice of it, though. Instead, his eyes lit up as he spotted her food. "You don't mind, do you?" Before waiting for an answer, he leaned over and reached for her plate — something sweet tickled her nose, an aroma rich with honey and vanilla. She suppressed the urge to close her eyes and inhale the scent like a starved animal finally finding something to fill its empty stomach.

"Help yourself," she grumbled with grit teeth.

Gojo hummed, smug. "I knew you loved me."

"Choke on it."

He flashed her a grin.

Before Gojo could take over the conversation, as Jun knew he would (that boy loved to talk), Jun said, "Dad. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about..." She tried to keep the desperation and anxiety out of her voice, but by the way Gojo stilled mid-bite, cautiously glancing at her over the rim of his sunglasses, she hadn't succeeded.

Haru immediately sobered up, sitting up straighter. "Yes." He reached across the table to take one of Jun's hands in his. A lump formed in her throat. She didn't like this. Why was he so serious? But then he smiled at her, which slightly soothed her nerves. Slightly. "Listen, dear. A few weeks ago, at the art exhibition that I told you about... — remember? You wanted to come with but then a mission came up..." Jun nodded; she remembered. "Well, I met someone. A woman. She worked there, and we got along right away and have been in contact since, and I..." Jun furrowed her brows; this was not what she had expected. "I would like to invite her to dinner."

"Oh," Jun said dumbly. "Dinner, like a... date?"

"Yes."

Jun slowly nodded.

Her dad gave her a wary look before he continued, "I know this is very sudden, and I should've told you about her sooner. So, before I ask her on a date, I wanted to know if you would be OK with this." Jun didn't respond — she couldn't; her mind felt sluggish, forming a coherent thought was strenuous, like trying to drag herself out of quicksand. Her dad squeezed her hand. "I know you still suffer from your mother leaving us, but it's been four years... and I hope you understand that I want to... move on."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and all of a sudden, her thoughts were racing, too fast for her to keep up. Move on. How could he just move on? Like it was this easy thing you could just do? The day her mother left — the words written on the note she left behind — were etched into the inside of her skull, the pain she caused trapped in her heart... There was no moving on for Jun. Her body went rigid, her muscles taut to the utmost, and she diverted her gaze from her father's hopeful yet hesitant expression to the table, eyes landing on her teacup. The impulse to throw it overcame her, to hurl it against the wall and watch it shatter into tiny pieces; she wanted to wrap her hand around a shard and squeeze, until she drew blood. She longed for something ground her, like Geto had done when he—

Cool fingers — Gojo's fingers — snaked around her wrist under the table; she hadn't realized how tight she'd been gripping the edge of the bench. She loosened her claw-like grip on the wood as Gojo gently pried her hand away. And slowly, as if giving her a chance to pull away, he slid his hand into hers, his touch featherlight, until his palm rested against hers, their fingers slotting together like puzzle pieces. She tensed; she didn't want to hold Gojo's hand, no, disgusting— He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and Jun felt herself relax despite her head screaming at her to pull away because this was Gojo Satoru, she hated him!

"Jun?"

She looked up at her dad, significantly calmer, more collected, than before. She forced a smile onto her lips, though she was pretty sure that it did not reach her eyes, and said, "You should do it."

Haru furrowed his brows, his forehead rippling. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Ask her out."

"Oh... OK..." His gaze roamed over her face suspiciously, as if he was looking for a catch, something sinister lurking behind her unexpected approval. But Jun knew he wouldn't find anything. All she wanted was for her dad to do what she couldn't: move on and be happy.

"Dad, I'm not plotting her murder." By her side, Gojo snorted at her remark but tried to cover it up with a cough. Jun and her dad both ignored him. "I'm serious, I'm OK with it."

"You would tell me if you weren't OK with it, though. Right?" Haru asked, still not convinced.

Jun inhaled a poisonous breath. "'Course," she lied, letting the poison fester in her lungs.

After a few more seconds in which her dad just looked at her as if she'd grown a second head, his shoulders slumped in relief, and a breathy chuckle tumbled from his lips and he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. "I'm glad. Thank you, dear."

The poison spread from her lungs to her chest, into her heart. She hated this — so much. But she ignored the painful, acidic feeling burning its way into her bones and kept smiling.

Gojo's grip on her hand tightened.

🪦

HUMILIATION COURSED THROUGH JUN'S VEINS as she sat on a bench at the train station, Gojo beside her. After they had left the restaurant and she had hugged her father goodbye, a fake smile plastered onto her lips, Jun hadn't said a word to Gojo; it was like an invisible force had stolen her voice. What was worse, though, was that Gojo hadn't said a word either... If it were any other day, Jun would thank every deity in the whole fucking world for the peace she finally got. But today... his silence ate away at her, made her anxious; Jun wanted to shake him, just to wrangle some noise from his throat.

Why was he so quiet?

Why do you think? her mother's voice echoed through her skull.

Jun's hands balled into fists, her fingernails piercing the delicate skin of her palm. Gojo probably didn't want to speak to her anymore, not after learning how much of a wretched creature she was, so despicable that not even her own mother could stand to stick around. Most likely, he was questioning why he even tried to break through her armor, realizing that she simply wasn't fucking worth it—

"Your mom really just up and left you?"

The self-deprecating thoughts came to a sudden halt at the sound of Gojo's annoying wonderful voice. Yet she couldn't bring herself to look at him, not ready to see the loathing shining through his sunglasses. Instead, she forced a nod.

"And she didn't have a reason? Like, she didn't... explain why she left?"

The note her mother had left her flashed before her eyes, the words forever ingrained in her mind: This isn't the life I want. I can't be a wife. I can't be a mother. Goodbye. Yeah, her mother had a reason — the reason being that Jun wasn't enough, that she was an unlovable thing, and it was just a matter of time before everyone would recognize that her heart was pitch black, a rotten thing sitting dead between her lungs... before she would end up alone.

Jun shrugged, faking nonchalance. "She left a note — said that this isn't the life she wanted."

"That's fucked up." Jun blinked. What? "I mean, how can a mother just leave her daughter for no reason, that's just awful." Slowly, she lifted her gaze from the gray concrete before her to the boy next to her, his eyes no longer hidden behind sunglasses. He'd pushed them up into his hair, and when he looked at her, there was no sign of hatred or disgust in his expression. Not for her, anyway. He shook his head in disbelief, anger painting his every word as he continued, "I don't understand how anyone could just—"

He stopped short, his eyes widening slightly before he turned away.

Jun frowned. "Could just what?" she asked, more sharply than intended.

Gojo hesitantly met her gaze, sighing in defeat. "I don't understand how anyone could just leave you."

Jun's breath hitched in her throat. What in the blazing hell was that supposed to mean?

Before she could ask, though, Gojo cleared his throat loudly and put his glasses back on his nose, hiding the radiant blue of his eyes behind a wall of black. Jun almost — almost — mourned the loss of the sight of them. "You're lucky, though," he said, his tone much more casual than before.

Confusion rattled her bones. "Lucky?!" she bit out, indignant. How was she lucky?

"Yeah," he said, leaning back in his seat and putting his hands behind his head. "To have a dad that cares so much, y'know."

"Oh..." Jun furrowed her brows. "I guess..."

"No, seriously. I mean... I never had that." His voice dropped an octave at the end, sounding more solemn than Jun was comfortable with — Gojo had always been this happy-go-lucky person, never the serious type. But then again, she'd never bothered trying to look past his facade; she'd been content with the superficial and caricatural impression she had of him, the idea of peeling back his layers had never even occurred to her.

"What do you mean you never had that? Your family is the fucking Gojo Clan, that's a huge as fuck family."

"Family!" A snort escaped him. "That's a good one." He scratched his neck. "Nah, they're not my family. I haven't seen my parents since I was a kid." Jun's eyes widened; she hadn't expected that. "They left me in the care of people more suited to train me — well, more like I was taken away from them — when I was old enough to walk — that's why I'm the best at everything, in case you were wondering how I manage to be such a genius." He nudged her shoulder with his, a grin splitting his face in half. But Jun could hear the bitterness hidden behind his cheerful attitude — which was so obviously forced.

Everything she'd known about him was just a rough sketch of the person he truly was.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could get a word out, Gojo slapped his thighs, jumping up from his seat. It took every fucking ounce of self-control not to flinch at the suddenness of it all. Instead, she glared at him.

"I've got an idea," he announced, putting his hands on his hips.

One of Jun's eyebrows quirked up, skeptically. "An idea?"

"Yes! To cheer you up, since you so obviously need it after the whole... Dad's got a new girlfriend-thing."

A scowl took over her features. "He doesn't have a girlfriend," she snarled.

"Yet," Gojo sang.

Her scowl deepened.

"Come on." He bowed down slightly, offering his hand to her. Jun eyed it suspiciously, the delicate bones of his slender fingers, precise as lines carved by Michelangelo. Gojo looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses, his lips morphing into a teasing smirk. With a challenging voice, he asked, "What, you scared?"

And as always, Jun couldn't resist.

But she wouldn't be caught dead taking his hand — again. So, she crossed her arms as she stood up from the bench, holding his amused gaze captive in her cold determined one. "Well, then... Lead the way."

Gojo grinned.

(finally) posting this chapter on my DEAR friend's — Kam_eyyy — BIRTHDAY!! i'm so glad i met you, you became such a good friend in such a short amount of time, my partner in brainrot, i love you, birthday princess!!

it is also GOJO'S birthday, so it's only fitting to post a very gojo-centric chapter today (i say like i planned it 🤡)

soooo, i hope you enjoyed! and let me know what you thought! (sorry for the long wait, writer's block is a bitch)