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#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru]

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , dark themes , slightly geto suguru x female reader.

— WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

->next

„I think we should break up.“

Gojo’s words hung in the air, as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. You desperately tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to show Gojo just how deeply his words had wounded you.

“Why? What happened?“ You managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Gojo’s gaze softened, but his eyes held a distant look, as if his mind was already elsewhere. “I’ve found someone else,” he admitted, his words like a dagger to your fragile heart.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed your thoughts. Insecurity, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal washed over you. You had always known Gojo was popular, surrounded by women who seemed to possess an otherworldly beauty that you could only dream of. But you had hoped that your connection would be strong enough to withstand any external temptations.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t help but question your own worth. Gojo had been your beacon of light, the one who had brought joy and stability into your chaotic world. You had believed that your love was strong enough to overcome any obstacles.

But now, faced with the harsh reality of Gojo’s confession, your insecurities resurfaced with a vengeance.

How could Gojo have led you on, making you believe that your love was real, only to discard you so easily for someone else?

But despite the storm of emotions raging within you, you knew that you had to find the strength to let Gojo go. You couldn’t force someone to love you, no matter how much you wanted to.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “If that’s what you truly want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You wiped away your tears and caught Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were filled with regret and sadness, and you could see the pain he felt in his expression. It was as if he realized the gravity of his decision and the hurt he had caused you.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you. It’s not about your worth or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about me and my own shortcomings.”

You looked at him, surprised by his words.

“I understand,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “I know I can’t change your feelings or make you stay. I’ll start packing my things so you can have your apartment back.”

As you rose from the plush couch, your footsteps echoed through the spacious apartment, the sound muffled by the thick carpet beneath your feet. With a heavy heart, you made your way to the bedroom you had once shared with Gojo. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the impending change that would soon occur.

You opened the grand closet, its ornate doors revealing a collection of clothes and personal belongings. The air was filled with a bittersweet nostalgia as you carefully selected each item, their presence a testament to the love and happiness you had once shared. The room seemed to whisper your name, its walls bearing witness to the countless moments of joy and intimacy that had unfolded within its confines.

As you held each cherished possession in your hands, memories flooded your mind like a river. The soft touch of Gojo's hand, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the room. Each item carried a weight of emotions, a reminder of the love you had believed to be unbreakable.

Gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed, watched you with a pained expression. The reality of the situation seemed to settle in, and he realized the depth of the connection he was severing. The room felt colder, emotions hanging thick in the air.

As you folded your clothes and placed them in a suitcase, Gojo finally spoke again, his voice carrying a tinge of regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Y/n. You deserve happiness, and I hope you find it even if it's without me."

His words lingered, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the end. The room, once filled with shared laughter and intimate moments, now felt like a haunting memory. The pain was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever subside.

As you zipped up your suitcase, Gojo approached, his hand hesitating in the air as if unsure whether to touch you.

He gently brushed away a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"I'm truly sorry," he murmured,

With your suitcase in hand, you stood near the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been your shared sanctuary. It was a goodbye to not only Gojo but also to the dreams you had woven together.

As you walked out, Gojo remained in the room, the emptiness echoing the void left by the shattered relationship. The door closed behind you, sealing the end of a chapter that had once promised forever.

-

In the days that followed, the task of finding a new place to call home became increasingly overwhelming. The once vibrant city, which had once been a source of shared dreams and promises, now seemed indifferent to your struggles. Each apartment viewing brought with it a fresh wave of emotions, serving as a painful reminder of the life you had envisioned with Gojo.

In the midst of this turmoil, old habits resurfaced. You found yourself reaching for cigarettes and turning to alcohol as a means of coping.

It was disheartening, as you had believed that these vices were behind you after Gojo entered your life and seemingly fixed all your problems. But now, they have reappeared, threatening to consume you once again.

What made matters worse was the lack of support you had. There were no parents to lean on, no friends to turn to for help. You were left to navigate this challenging situation all on your own, starting from scratch.

Before meeting Gojo, you had worked countless jobs to pay your bills and support your studies, scraping by with whatever little money you had.

The weight of it all was taking its toll on you. You felt yourself falling apart, the stress and uncertainty chipping away at your resolve.

But then, Gojo appeared, and your life took an unexpected turn. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together. The first time you laid eyes on him was when you were working as a waitress at a cozy bakery. As he walked in, time seemed to stand still. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his striking features.

His vibrant blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear summer sky, held a depth that drew you in. His snow-white hair and lashes added an ethereal touch to his already captivating appearance. And when he smiled, it was as if the whole room lit up with warmth and charm. You were instantly captivated by his presence, unable to tear your gaze away.

To your surprise, Gojo noticed your lingering glances and, with a confident stride, approached the counter where you were working. He invited you to join him, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with this enigmatic man. As you sat together, indulging in delectable desserts, the hours seemed to melt away in a blur of laughter and shared stories.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo became a regular at the bakery, always seeking your company. The two of you would engage in deep conversations that spanned a wide range of topics, from the trivial to the profound. Each interaction only deepened your connection, and before you knew it, you found yourself falling for him.

However, amidst the blossoming romance, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but notice the parade of women that seemed to surround Gojo. He would visit the bakery at least twice a week, each time accompanied by a different woman. They would engage in affectionate displays, acting as if they were a couple.

As you observed these interactions, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Comparisons became inevitable, and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate in comparison to these stunning women. Their flawless skin, plump breasts, and alluring curves seemed to highlight your own perceived shortcomings. Their beauty was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever measure up.

But despite these doubts, Gojo continued to seek your company, showing genuine interest in your thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. His actions spoke louder than words, and you began to question your own self-doubt. Perhaps there was more to this connection than meets the eye.

Maybe, just maybe, Gojo saw something in you that went beyond physical appearances.

Motivated by this newfound hope, you made a conscious effort to break free from your bad habits. Weeks turned into months, and Gojo continued to visit the bakery every day just to see you.

However, one day, something special happened. Gojo waited patiently for you to finish your shift and then walked you back to the motel where you were staying. It was during this walk that he truly realized how difficult your life actually was.

Seeing you work tirelessly, with dark circles under your eyes and wearing the same clothes day after day, Gojo couldn’t bear to see you living in such difficult conditions. He noticed the presence of alcohol and cigarettes in your room and insisted that you stay with him instead. He wanted to provide you with a better life, free from the struggles you had been facing.

And so, you took up Gojo’s offer and moved in with him.

And that's when you became a couple.

But after two years of being in a relationship with Gojo, he found someone else. The person who used to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet words of love, and make you feel like the most important person in his life was now directing those affectionate gestures towards someone else.

You didn’t want to let him go. The thought of losing him was devastating. However, you also understood that you couldn’t force him to stay with you if his heart was no longer fully committed. Questions swirled in your mind. Did you do something wrong? Were you not exciting enough for him anymore? Was there something else that led him to find someone new?

Despite the heartache, one thing remained certain- your love for Gojo would never fade. The pain of knowing that he loved someone else, someone who wasn’t you, was excruciating. No one could ever replace the way Gojo had changed you, the way he had touched your heart and made you feel alive.

You sat alone in the dimly lit motel room, a bottle of liquor in hand, you sought solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. The pain in your heart seemed unbearable, and you hoped that drowning your sorrows would provide temporary relief.

The room felt suffocating. Each sip of the bitter liquid seemed to momentarily wash away the ache, but deep down, you knew it was only a temporary escape. The truth remained that Gojo had moved on, and you were left grappling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the half-empty bottle on the grimy nightstand and slowly rose from the disheveled bed. Your footsteps carried you towards the suitcase, which stood dutifully beside a small table, as you rummaged through its contents in search of something comfortable to wear for the night. The weight of your emotions bore down on you, causing you to push up your hoodie, removing it with a forceful toss onto the nearby chair, as you attempted to regain control over your tears.

The question echoed in your mind once again, piercing through the haze of confusion and hurt. How could he do this to you? The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in your heart, leaving you gasping for air amidst the waves of anguish.

You made your way towards the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a vulnerable and exposed version of yourself. The longer you gazed upon your topless form, the deeper the sadness seeped into your being. Your hand instinctively reached out, fingers grazing the surface of your bare stomach, as if trying to grasp the weight.

Could it be that your weight gain was the reason behind his abandonment? Did he no longer desire to be with you because of the changes in your body? The thought gnawed at your self-esteem, fueling the belief that the girl he now chose to be with possessed a flat stomach, a flawless figure, and enviable curves. Qualities that you, in your own eyes, did not possess.

Feeling the ache in your stomach intensify, you released your grip and turned your attention back to the task at hand. Pulling out a set of comfortable pajamas from your suitcase, you quickly changed into them, hoping that the soft fabric would provide some comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay down on the bed, the worn-out mattress offering little respite, your mind raced with thoughts of the uncertain future that lay before you. The realization hit hard – you would have to find a job, and fast. The fear of being kicked out of the motel, with nowhere else to go, loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind began to form a plan. You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally settling upon you.

-

Days turned into nights, and nights into days as you tirelessly searched for a job. The motel room became a temporary refuge, a place where you could rest your weary body and gather your thoughts before facing the world again. And then, finally, your efforts paid off.

You received a call from the bakery where you had once worked, offering you a position. Excitement and relief flooded through you as you accepted the job. It was a familiar place,

The first day back at the bakery was filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. As you stepped through the familiar doors, the scent of freshly baked bread enveloped you. The warm smiles and greetings from your former colleagues made you feel instantly welcome, as if you had never left.

You returned to your old position as a waitress and memories of Gojo lingered in the back of your mind. It had been a while since you had seen him, and you had made peace with the fact that he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

You let out a sigh as you walked over to the table where some guests were seated. Taking their orders, you jotted them down on a small notepad and headed towards the counter to place it.

As you turned around, the door opened, and there stood Gojo Satoru, looking as charming as ever. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a smile instantly spread across his face. He waved at you, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Beside Gojo stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, exuding confidence and radiating charm. It was clear why Gojo was drawn to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

With a polite smile, you excused yourself and walked away, seeking solace in the different side of the bakery. Your heart raced as you tried to process the unexpected encounter. The memories of your past relationship flooded back, bringing with them a whirlwind of emotions.

In the safety of the different side, away from prying eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

As you continued your work, serving customers and attending to their needs, you found solace in the routine. The hustle and bustle of the bakery provided a distraction, allowing you to momentarily forget the turmoil that Gojo’s presence had stirred within you.

But deep down, you knew that healing would take time. The wounds were still fresh, and seeing Gojo with someone new had reopened them. Yet, you refused to let it define you.

As you stood behind the counter, your eyes scanned the room, searching for any customer in need of your assistance. However, it seemed that everyone was content, engrossed in their conversations and meals. Your gaze involuntarily shifted towards the table where Gojo sat with his new girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but observe the way Gojo’s eyes sparkled with adoration as he looked at her. The way his face lit up with a blush whenever she smiled at him was a sight you had never witnessed before. It was as if he saw her as a goddess, someone worthy of his utmost devotion and affection.

A pang of jealousy washed over you as you compared Gojo’s current demeanor with how he had looked at you in the past. His eyes had never held that same lovesick gaze when he was with you. It was a bitter realization that he had never regarded you in the same way he now regarded this new woman.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that captivated Gojo so completely. Was it her radiant smile, her confident aura, or perhaps something deeper that you couldn’t comprehend? Whatever it was, it was clear that Gojo had found someone who made his heart race and his eyes shine with love.

As you continued to observe them from a distance, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Part of you longed for Gojo to look at you with the same intensity, to make you feel like the center of his universe. But another part of you knew that it was time to let go, to accept that Gojo had moved on and found happiness elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention back to your duties, reminding yourself that your worth was not defined by Gojo’s affections.

You carefully balanced the two deserts and the cup of hot chocolate on your tray, making sure everything was secure. Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly glanced at the table number where this order was meant to be served. Without looking up, you started walking towards the designated table, unaware of the impending collision.

Just as you were about to lift your gaze, your body collided with someone, causing your grip on the tray to loosen. The board slipped from your hands, and the cup of hot chocolate tumbled through the air, its contents splattering onto the person you had unintentionally crashed into.

Your eyes widened in shock, and panic surged through your veins as you realized the gravity of the situation. You quickly raised your gaze, meeting the eyes of the person you had accidentally drenched with hot chocolate. And in that moment, your whole world seemed to crumble around you.

It was her. The woman for whom Gojo had left you. The same woman who had stolen his heart and shattered yours in the process. The sight of her standing before you, her face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks, was like a knife to your heart.

She hissed in pain as the scalding hot chocolate made contact with her skin, desperately trying to wipe away the sticky liquid that clung to her. Your hands trembled as you reached for tissues from a nearby table, desperately attempting to alleviate the discomfort you had caused.

But just as you were about to wipe away the hot chocolate, a forceful hand slapped yours away, taking over the task of cleaning the girl's skin. Startled, you looked up and saw Gojo, his face contorted with fury. His eyebrows knitted together as he witnessed the tears streaming down the girl's face, his protective instincts kicking in.

You stood there, next to Gojo, your voice barely audible as you muttered apologies, trying to explain that it was an accident. But Gojo's anger seemed to drown out your words. He finished wiping away the hot chocolate from the girl's skin and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from any further harm. His gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and rage.

"Why would you do that?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the air. His words pierced through your heart, intensifying the guilt that already weighed heavily upon you. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the pain of betrayal mingling with the anger. But you couldn't find the words to defend yourself, knowing deep down that there was no justification for your actions.

„It was an accident-“

He took a deep breath,"Save it, I know why you did it.“

„Just because I found someone else and that I’m happy with them doesn’t mean that you’ll get to hurt them out of jealousy!“ he spoke

„I thought you were better than that," he said. The girl, still in his arms, chimed in, her voice filled with anger. "Call your manager, you need to be fired!"

Gojo's gaze shifted back to you, his eyes searching for an explanation. The weight of his disappointment and the girl's demand for your termination bore down on you. Panic set in as you realized the implications of losing your job. You couldn't afford to be fired; you needed the money to support yourself.

Desperation filled your voice as you pleaded with Gojo, "Please, don't ask for my manager. It was just an accident. I need this job, I can't afford to lose it." Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to convey the sincerity of your plea. You knew you had made a mistake, but it was one born out of carelessness, not malice.

You instinctively grabbed Gojos' hand,“Please-!“ you begged, but your hand only got slapped away by the woman in his arms.

„And now you go touching someone’s boyfriend? What‘s wrong with you!“ the girl shouted as she slapped you.

Your head turned to the side from the force of the slap, a surge of pain radiated through your cheek. The impact left your skin hot and flushed, a visible mark of the humiliation you felt. You fought back tears, determined not to let them see your vulnerability.

With trembling hands, you gently placed your palm against your reddened cheek, trying to soothe the pain. Your eyes flickered towards the girl, searching for any sign of remorse or understanding, but all you saw was a cold, dismissive gaze. Her arms crossed defiantly, she demanded that you call for the manager, her voice dripping with disdain.

„Call the manager.“

Desperation welled up within you, and you mustered the courage to speak, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and desperation. "Wait, please! I... I really need this job," you pleaded, hoping that she would see reason, that she would understand the dire circumstances that led you to this moment.

She cut you off, her words sharp and dismissive. "I don't care, call for your manager," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation or empathy.

Your gaze shifted towards Gojo, silently pleading for his intervention, for him to vouch for you or at least offer some support. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a furrowed brow and a hint of disappointment. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight of disbelief and disapproval. "Can't believe you would pull something like that," he murmured, his words landing like a heavy blow to your already wounded heart.

Your hand, still trembling, fell from your cheek as you straighten your posture. With a deep breath, you mustered the strength to bow,

"I'll get t-the manager right away," you said,

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Gojo and the girl, making your way towards the counter to call for the manager.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the phone, dialing the number with shaky fingers. Each ring felt like an eternity, amplifying the anxiety that coursed through your veins. Finally, a voice answered on the other end, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Hello- this is Y/n L/n from [Bakery]. I... I need to speak with the manager, please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The person on the other end assured you that they would connect you, and you waited anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you waited, your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences that awaited you. Losing this job would mean losing your only source of income, and the financial strain it would bring was overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of disappointing your loved ones or struggling to make ends meet.

Finally, the manager's voice came through the line, and you mustered up the courage to explain the situation. You recounted the accident, your sincere apologies, and the girl's demand for your termination. The manager listened attentively, their voice calm and composed as they absorbed the details.

After a brief pause, the manager spoke, their tone firm yet compassionate. "I will come over to assess the situation and speak with all parties involved. Please remain calm and await my arrival."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you hung up the phone.

As you turned around, you noticed Gojo and the girl engaged in a hushed conversation. Their expressions were still filled with anger and disappointment, but there was also a hint of uncertainty. You approached them cautiously, your eyes downcast.

"I've c-called the manager," you said softly,"They will be here soon to address the situation. I... I'm truly sorry for what happened. It was never my intention to cause any harm or distress."

„Sure“ the girl replied.

-

Months had passed since that fateful encounter at the café. You had lost your job, the incident with Gojo and the girl tarnishing your reputation and leading to your dismissal. Now, you found yourself standing by the reception desk of another run-down motel, desperately seeking a place to stay for the night because you got kicked out of the last one.

As you approached the receptionist, a tired-looking man with a permanent scowl on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “I was wondering if you have any available rooms for tonight?”

The receptionist glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowing as he took in your disheveled appearance. His tone was curt as he replied, “We do have a few rooms left, but I’ll need payment upfront.”

Your heart sank. You had been scraping by, barely making ends meet, and the little money you had left was barely enough to cover your basic necessities.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have enough money to pay for a room.”

The receptionist’s scowl deepened, his impatience evident. “Look, we can’t just give away rooms for free. If you can’t pay, then I suggest you find somewhere else to go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to rely on. The weight of your mistakes and the consequences they had brought upon you felt suffocating.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the reception desk, feeling the eyes of the other guests in the lobby on you, judging and pitying your predicament. As you walked towards the exit, a mix of shame and desperation washed over you, threatening to consume your spirit.

Outside, the cold night air greeted you, a stark reminder of your current reality. You stood on the sidewalk, feeling lost and defeated. The world seemed to blur around you as you pondered your next move, wondering how you had ended up in this dire situation.

Suddenly, a voice chimed in from behind, jolting you out of your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to find yourself face to face with Geto, your ex's best friend. His black eyes bore into yours, his raised eyebrows conveying curiosity and surprise. His gaze drifted to the suitcase clutched tightly in your hand, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Geto?" you questioned, your voice tinged with confusion.

A puff of smoke escaped his lips as he exhaled the cigarette between his fingers,"How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Suguru," he replied,

“Why are you here?” he asked, standing before you and peering into your eyes. But before you could answer, another question slipped from his lips, catching you off guard. “Where is Satoru?”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know. How could he not know? Wasn’t he Satoru’s best friend? Shouldn’t he have been informed about the breakup that had occurred just last month? Did Gojo, your ex, not bother to share the news with him?

“Didn’t Satoru tell you?” you asked, breaking eye contact with him, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“Tell me what?” he questioned. He removed the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his shoe.

“That we broke up,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you watched his reaction, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he regained his composure.

“You two broke up..?” he questioned,“Since when did you-”

“Last month we broke up,” you interrupted,

“Is there any reason why you two broke up? Everything was good, wasn’t it?” As he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He…” you hesitated, your gaze shifting to the side. “He found someone else,” you admitted, your lips trembling slightly.

“Oh,” he responded, his hand retracting from your shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes turned towards the night sky, lost in his own thoughts, before refocusing on you. “And why are you here in the middle of the night?” he asked, his gaze scanning you from head to toe, taking in your worn-out clothes. His eyes returned to your face.

“I got kicked out of the motel because I couldn’t pay for it anymore,” you replied,

His brows furrowed,"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said softly,"You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Without hesitation, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I have an idea," he said,"Why don't you come stay with me until you find a job and get back on your feet?"

Surprised by his offer, you looked at him,"I- I can‘t do that-!" you spoke.

A warm smile spread across his face. "Of course you can," he replied. "I have a spare room and it would be my pleasure to help you out. Sometimes, all we need is a little support to get back on track."

„But-!“

„No buts.“

"Thank you," you whispered, "I don't know what to say..."

He smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling,"No need to thank me," he insisted. "We all go through tough times, and sometimes we just need a helping hand. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

He took the suitcase from your hand and turned around, walking towards his house. "Let's go," he said, looking back at you.

You nodded and followed after him.

NEXT

Hi, love your writing style and stories. Would you be be able to take a request for a like enemies to lovers with Choso? Just a thought.

Scars Written Deep

CHOSO X READER! You've fought with enemies plenty of times. But when defeated, waking up in their bed is the last place you want to find yourself in. _________ ♫ GILDED LILY - cults ❝ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏᴏʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʟᴏᴡᴇꜱᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ❞

Pain explodes through your body, white-hot and searing as an unknown force of a blast slams into you. It felt like being struck by a thunderbolt, the power immense and merciless. You were hurled backward with brutal force, your body flung like a ragdoll into the wreckage of what had once been a formidable barrier.

The impact was devastating. A wave of intense pain exploded through you as you crashed into a heap of twisted metal and broken concrete. The agony that followed was sharp and all-consuming, shooting through every nerve in your body with unbearable intensity. Your ears rang with a high-pitched whine, the sound of your pulse loud in the unsettling silence that followed the blast.

You can't quite remember how you came to be here. All your brain can pick up are you leaving home, coming here, fighting Choso, then an explosion. With the agony you find yourself in, you're surprised you can even think.

As you open your eyes, coughing slightly as dust tries to find an entryway into your lungs, you start to squirm to get up. It isn't over like this, some stupid explosion from who knows where. If you were to die, you'd rather it be in the hands of an enemy than be one unknown.

It only takes you a few seconds to realize you can't move, as you twist your head to look back, you're greeted with a slab of metal meeting your torso, down to your legs, covering half your body. Gasping for breath under the oppressive weight of the debris, you now feel the pain. It's hot and searing, radiating from your legs, trapped beneath the rubble.

The sharp, jagged edges of slabs of metal dig into your skin, the pressure is immense and immobilizing. Every attempt to move sent new waves of excruciating pain coursing through your body, each more punishing than the last. With a gasp of hope and widening eyes, you try and twist your body to no avail.

Beneath you, the ground was littered with rubble and broken glass; an uncomfortable to your stomach, reminding you of the force pressing into your back, pinning you down. You try to move, to escape the prison of debris, but torture lances through your body, anchoring you in place.

A minute falls past and a desperate cry leaves your lips, drowned out by the ringing in your ears, the sound of your distress is soon lost amidst the aftermath of the explosion.

Tears of frustration now fall down your cheeks as you try and move the metal. It won't budge, it's stuck on you; and now it's slowly starting to click, that this will be your fate. Either Choso will leave you here, making you run out of needed resources, or you die at his hands. You can't accept both, you'll find a way.

Every breath seems to be a battle in your body, chest heaving to draw in air through the crushing weight pinning your legs. You try to move once more, a whimper escaping your lips as a sharp pain lanced through you, the world tilting dangerously.

It seemed like pain engulfed you, immediate and overwhelming, its claws digging into your flesh with merciless intensity. Your head throbbed violently, a pulsating rhythm that matched the sharp, jagged breaths escaping from your crushed lungs.

The world around you started to blur into a chaotic swirl of dust and shadows, each particle of air heavy with the scent of destruction and cursed energy.

Your vision is now hazy, tears of ache and anger welling in your eyes, making the dusty air around you seem to swim. The dim, shadowy outline of the warehouse wavered in and out of focus, the sturdy walls now nothing more than a crumbling tomb.

In the disorienting aftermath of the explosion, your thoughts turned briefly to Choso, not out of concern (you'd rather be caught dead than ever show a hint of worry for that man), but out of a wary calculation.

If he was down, it could be your chance to escape, or if he approached, you'd need to be ready to defend yourself, even in this weakened state. But your thoughts were quickly overwhelmed by the raw, physical pain dominating your senses.

Your tiny glimpse of hope diminished as the realization started to set in.

Through the haze of dust and debris, a figure began to take shape, moving steadily through the chaos. You couldn't feel the massive amount of tears that you cried, mistaking it with dust. You feel your heart sink in a pit in your stomach at the sight.

It was Choso, appearing seemingly unscathed by the explosion that had incapacitated you. His posture was upright, his steps measured and calm—a stark contrast to the chaos around him.

The rivalry between you had always been fierce, a clash of power and wits, testing each other's limits at every encounter. But now, as your consciousness flickered dangerously low, you saw him differently.

There was a sway in his step, a slight falter that betrayed his disorientation from the explosion. His usual composed demeanor was shattered; even from a distance, you could sense his confusion.

Your heart sank further, not just from fear or pain, but from a deep, ugly seething resentment. There he was, your enemy, walking freely while you lay pinned and powerless. The sight of him, so composed amid the destruction, fueled a surge of anger through your veins, momentarily overshadowing the pain.

You strained to keep your eyes open, to keep him in sight, not willing to be caught off-guard. His figure became clearer as he approached. There was no sign of hesitation in his steps, no flicker of concern across his features—just the same cold, detached expression he always wore when facing you.

The familiarity made you want to die.

Your breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, each inhaling a battle against the pain and the weight crushing down on you. It took up too much strength to keep your head lifted; finally giving it a few moments of peace as you felt your cheek meet the cold ground.

You tried to muster the strength to call out, to taunt or threaten him, to do anything to affect that stoic demeanor. But your voice faltered the words dissolving into a pained groan as darkness edged your vision. You tried to lift your head for a second, gritting your teeth against the surge of pain. "Choso," you managed to gasp out, though it felt like speaking through a mouthful of glass. Your voice was hoarse, barely audible above the settling debris.

He paused, his head turning sharply in your direction, his eyes—those deep, unfathomable pools—locking onto yours. There was a pause, a heartbeat of silence that stretched between you two. Then, surprisingly, his footsteps resumed, this time more deliberately, closing the distance between enemy lines. It was like you could feel the vibration of his footsteps, telling you your ultimate fate.

As Choso came closer, your determination faltered, the edges of your consciousness fraying under the onslaught of pain and imminent defeat. The world around you began to dim, the sounds of the crumbling warehouse fading into a distant echo.

With the last of your strength waning, your head lolled to the side, your eyes struggling to focus on Choso as he continued his approach.

Your mind screamed to stay awake, to remain vigilant, but your body betrayed you, sinking deeper into the cold, encroaching shadows of unconsciousness. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was the blurred image of Choso bending over you, his hands reaching out—whether to help or to harm, you couldn't tell, you didn't care.

The sight of him, an enemy moving unchallenged through the debris toward you, was the last image that burned in your mind before the darkness finally claimed you, swallowing everything into silent oblivion.

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

Consciousness returns to you like a slow, creeping tide, pushing through the haze of disorientation and throbbing pain. Your eyelids flutter open, revealing a ceiling that is unfamiliar—smooth, white, and utterly foreign. Panic grips you instantly. Your heart races as you try to move, but agony lances through your body, anchoring you to the spot with its fierce intensity.

With a groan, you grip the sheets as you turn your head, inspecting the room you find trapped in. You're lying on a soft surface, a bed, most likely, but the comfort it promises is overshadowed by the confusion swirling in your mind.

How did you get here? The last thing you remember is the explosive clash with Choso, the pain, and then darkness. Now, here you are, in a room that looks nothing like the battleground you last saw.

The walls are plain, adorned with only a few pictures, and there's a window with curtains partially drawn, letting in just enough light to illuminate your surroundings. Attempting to sit up, a sharp pain shoots through your stomach, forcing a gasp from your lips. It's then you realize you're bandaged heavily, your movements restricted by the swathes of gauze wrapped around your chest and legs.

You lift the sheets to be met wearing an oversized t-shirt with baggy sweatpants. Under it are bandages wrapped around what seems to be every inch of your torso, while some are found on your left and right legs. A hint of red bleeds through the plaster, making you reminisce on earlier events.

"Easy. You're not ready to move yet."

The voice is startlingly familiar, causing another spike of panic. Your head snaps to the side, and there he is—Choso, standing just a few feet away, his expression unreadable. How? Why? When?

"What are you doing here?" Your voice is a hoarse whisper, fear mingled with confusion. "Why am I here?"

Choso doesn't move closer, respecting the distance between you, perhaps understanding that his presence alone is enough to unsettle you further. "You were injured. I brought you here to heal," he explains, his tone neutral. It's unsettling.

"This is a trap," you accuse, though the effort of speaking sends a fresh wave of pain coursing through you. You're not even sure of your own words, but the distrust has deep roots, hardened by past conflicts.

"It's no trap," Choso replies calmly, face not marking any emotion. "You were in no condition to be left alone. Whether you believe me or not, I couldn't just—" He stops, seemingly searching for the right words. "I couldn't leave you there."

Your mind races, trying to process his words and his actions. None of it makes sense. Why would your enemy choose to save you? What for? Is he lying? Why? Why, why why? The suspicion lingers, but your body betrays your desire to act on it, too weak to even sit up fully.

Choso watches you struggle briefly, his gaze intense. "You need to rest. Your body hasn't healed enough for you to be moving around."

"I don't need anything from you," you manage to grit out, though the pain is draining, making it hard to focus. Giving up, you lock eyes with him.

For a moment, neither of you speaks; the air is charged with a tense silence. 

Then, without another word, Choso turns and walks towards the door. Before exiting, he pauses and looks back. "There's food and water on the nightstand when you're ready," he says, indicating a small wooden table nearby laden with a jug of water and a bowl covered with a cloth. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

With that, he exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. The sound of his footsteps recedes, and you're left alone, grappling with a cocktail of emotions—confusion, anger, vulnerability.

Each breath you take is a reminder of your physical state, the pain a constant, nagging presence that refuses to be ignored. If you could, you would run up and take him out from behind, give him a piece of the pain you've found familiar too. Your confusion of why runs deeper than your anger though.

Lying back against the pillow, you take a moment to assess your situation. The room is quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves outside and the distant clatter of utensils. Choso's presence in the next room is unsettling yet strangely reassuring in a way you can't quite understand. Why would he help you? What did he stand to gain from your survival?

The questions swirl in your mind, but the exhaustion from your injuries and the effort of the brief interaction weigh heavily on you. Despite your distrust and your instincts screaming for you to get up and leave, your body has other ideas. The pain pins you down, and the fatigue is overwhelming.

As minutes tick by, your eyelids grow heavy, the edges of your vision blur, and despite your best efforts to stay alert, sleep begins to claim you once more. Before you drift off, a part of you acknowledges the need to heal, to regain your strength. You'll need it if you're to confront Choso about his motives if you're to escape this place. If you're still willing to fight him after this.

But for now, your body wins the battle against your mind, and you sink into a reluctant, uneasy rest, the sound of Choso moving quietly in the kitchen a distant, almost comforting background noise. As sleep envelops you, it's with the faint hope that when next you wake, you might be strong enough to seek the answers you need—or ready enough to fight if it comes to that.

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

Weeks passed in a strange, silent routine as you slowly recovered in the unfamiliar house. Choso was a constant, albeit quiet, presence. Each day, he would come into your room to check on your wounds, his movements precise and methodical.

He hardly ever spoke during these visits, only offering brief nods or the occasional instruction on how to care for your injuries. You, trapped in a mixture of convalescence and confusion, the only response you would give him was a curt nod. You watched him in a wary silence, your mind buzzing with unasked questions and unvoiced suspicions.

One afternoon, as the sun filtered through the curtains casting long shadows across the room, Choso entered with his usual tray of medical supplies. He approached your side, his eyes briefly meeting yours before focusing on the bandages wrapped around your torso. As he began to unwind the soiled bandages with careful hands, the silence felt heavier than usual.

You watched his focused expression, noting the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the bandages and your shallow breathing. Something about the stillness of the moment, mixed with the weeks of pent-up confusion and frustration, made the words bubble up inside you, unbidden but unstoppable.

"Why are you doing this?" you blurted out, propping your arms up to get a good look at him. Your voice is a little hoarse from disuse in such conversations.

Choso paused, his hands stilling on the bandage. He didn't look up immediately, and for a moment, you thought he might just ignore your question and change of position. But then he straightens up slightly, meeting your gaze with a steady one of his own.

"Because it was necessary," he said simply.

"That's not an answer," you pushed back, your confusion turning into frustration. "Why me? Why save me, care for me, when all we've done is try to destroy each other? What do you want from me?"

Choso sighed a deep, almost inaudible sound. He resumed his task, breaking eye contact as his fingers deftly replaced the old bandage with a fresh one. "I don't expect you to understand. Not yet. But know this—I don't want to see you destroyed. Our enmity. . .it doesn't have to define everything."

"You expect me to just accept that? After everything?" Your tone was incredulous, expressing your anger and frustration, eyes searching his for any answer or hint of deceit.

He finished taping the new bandage and finally looked up, his expression earnest. "No, I don't expect acceptance, not immediately. But I do hope for understanding, eventually. There's more at stake here than our grievances."

You lay back against the pillows, processing his words. The idea that Choso, of all people, might have reasons beyond what you could immediately understand was difficult to grasp. It didn't erase the history or the pain, but it added a layer of complexity to a situation you had wanted to view in black and white.

"So, what now?" you asked after a moment, your voice softer, tinged with a reluctant curiosity, eyes drifting towards his.

"Now, you heal," Choso replied, his voice firm but not unkind. "And when you're ready, we'll talk. There's much to discuss, about why this all happened, and where we go from here."

As he packed away the medical supplies, you lay in silence, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing, your thoughts a whirlwind.

There was so much you still didn't know, so many questions yet to be answered. But for the first time since you woke up in this unfamiliar place, you considered that perhaps there might be reasons worth listening to—even from a foe.

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

Gradually, as your strength returned, the walls of the room that had confined you began to feel less oppressive, more like boundaries that could be pushed.

With cautious steps, you began to explore the house, curiosity tugging at you with each discovery. It struck you as odd, seeing Choso in such a domestic setting contradictory to the view you've always seen him as.

The house was simple and modestly furnished, but there were personal touches—a framed picture here, an old, well-loved book there—that made you reconsider the man you thought you knew only as a rival.

One afternoon, feeling stronger and more sure-footed, you ventured into the kitchen. It was neat and organized, with pots hanging in orderly rows and spices lined up like little soldiers. You touched the counters, the cool stone grounding, as a thought blossomed in your mind—a quiet thank you could be expressed in the universal language of a shared meal.

If you told yourself two months ago you'd be willing to cook Choso food, you would've cried from the hysterical shock of the statement. But as the days seem to pass, you can't ignore it any longer. The care he's bestowed onto you, you have to give something in return.

You found ingredients in the refrigerator and pantry—vegetables, herbs, some rice, and chicken. Cooking was a familiar, almost comforting routine, and as you chopped and stirred, you found a rhythm that felt meditative, healing in its own right. The aroma of herbs and simmering sauce filled the kitchen, weaving a warm, inviting atmosphere.

By the time you finished, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the house had grown quiet with the deepening evening. You set the table, placing dishes of steamed rice, herb-roasted chicken, and a side of vegetables neatly arranged. A note beside the plate simply read, "Thank you," a token of gratitude from someone who still harbored doubts but was learning maybe not all was as it seemed.

Exhaustion from the day's activities caught up with you, and after setting everything up, you retreated to your room, your body demanding rest. Sleep came surprisingly easy, a deep, restful state that enveloped you wholly.

When Choso returned, it was much later. The house was silent, save for the soft ticking of the wall clock in the hallway. He paused as he entered the kitchen, a hint of surprise registering on his features when he saw the spread on the table. A small hint of a smile graced his lips, rare and fleeting, as he read the note you'd left. He sat down, alone yet somehow not by your presence, and served himself.

As he ate, the flavors and care put into the meal spoke silently of bridges being built, even if those bridges were tentative and unspoken. It was a small gesture, but for Choso, it was a significant acknowledgment of the complex, shifting ground between you. 

Tonight, the house felt a little less like a battleground and a little more like a home, even if just for a moment.

In your room, you slept on, unaware of the small breakthrough, the smile you'd brought to a weary face, and the silent thanks returned in kind for a meal shared in spirit if not in presence.

@siythn all rights reserved!

AUTHORS NOTE! - i tried best i could, ngl it was pretty challenging to fit a way to include enemies to lovers, but i hope you enjoy! ღ