Chapter Text
Husband and wife. Lifelong partners. Partners in matrimony. Partners bound by love and soul and all that is pure. Partners who have sworn the remainder of their fickle lives to one another, to take care of one another, and to cherish and love one another senselessly, in a way transcendent to basic understanding.
That is the future you were supposed to have. The future you deserved.
Not this. You did not deserve a loveless marriage such as this one, a marriage where you lived with not a husband but a stranger who rarely ever came home. A stranger you only ever seem to see when absolutely necessary at your shared workplace—Tokyo Jujutsu High, both of you with the title of teacher as well as Special Grade Sorcerer.
Telling someone that you are married to him is close to asking them to just laugh at you, at the ridicule of claiming to be the wife of a man who might as well purchase a second house to make up for all the time he spends away.
It was not always like this, however. No, it was not.
Because, in truth, Gojo Satoru was not a stranger. He was the farthest thing from it, even, and despite what you may attempt to force yourself to believe, nothing could ever come close to your heart as he once was. Satoru had left his mark on it and walked away, leaving behind a trace of the past you once shared—a past that has never fully left your mind despite all the years—a graze of his soul against your own.
And, once, the knowledge of this might have hurt you. It might have kept you awake or restless all night, with your mind reeling with anything that could explain why he simply cannot stand being married to you. Why everything between you had completely shattered when you were both informed that you were to immediately be wed, as soon as you were of proper age. Your wedding was nothing more than a lie. A performance. A deal between both of your clans, to end centuries long tension with a holy marriage between their two heirs, both gifted and grand.
Both of your clans were seated at opposite sides of the venue. Some, including your parents as well as his, weeped with joy, at their two blessed children's union. Some were silently watching the ceremony with tear-filled eyes and a somber smile. Some clapped once you had exchanged vows—vows that you did not even have a hand in writing—before being declared husband and wife. They all watched as you leaned into one another for the final kiss, as Satoru released his infinity and held your face in a way that concealed the side of both of your faces from the rest. All attendees were unaware as Satoru projected a barrier of infinity in the space where your lips would touch. You both remained there for a suitable number of seconds, eyes closed.
The kiss never came.
You had both set off to your now shared home after the ceremony, and as you silently gazed at him on the way back, at the face that you were so fond of you could trace in your sleep, a part of you wondered if this might be able to work. If everything he had told you days before your marriage—about it all being nothing but an act to him—might have been a lie. If you could both, somehow, learn to love one another—not as friends, but as lovers. As husband and wife.
But every foolish hope you had implanted into your own heart was snuffed out, because Satoru brought someone home that very night.
You had both gotten yourself cleaned up and, whilst you changed into your nightgown, he changed into outdoor clothes set out without a word. You had waiting for him for hours, deep into dusk, before beginning to feel restless yourself, and you, too, decided to go for a walk. You visited a nearby park, with a silver river flowing right through dozens of towering trees, and you trailed a path for what felt like hours, inhaling the cool breeze that swayed nearby leaves. You came with the goal of clearing your mind, but the result was the further convolution of your thoughts. You had decided to go back home and talk to Satoru directly, to establish a form of middle ground between the two of you, because even if you were the only one trying, you were determined to not live the rest of your days like this: him gone, and you alone.
Satoru was not even trying to keep her quiet.
You heard them all the way from the gates to your shared manor. You had mistaken it to be a product of your own thoughts at first, and foolishly continued through the gates and inside. It was only when you were standing right outside the front door that the noise became clear.
He had a woman over. A woman. And he was fucking her upstairs, perhaps even in your shared bedroom. On your wedding day.
Your wedding day.
As if nothing had happened at all, you turned back around and left the manor completely. For hours, you treaded the dark streets with no clear goal, no clear destination. Your vision was foggy for some time, but you eventually decided to swipe away at your tears. How pathetic you were, crying for his sake. Crying over something that was never yours to begin with. He was only your husband by law, by title, but not by heart.
He was not yours. Not yours. Not yours.
And yet, it hurt all the same.
Morning came, and you began to make your way home after spending your night at a ruddy hotel. Crossing the gates had your mind reminding you of last night, of what had happened, but you tried your best to brush it off as you approached the front door and, in contrast to yesterday, went inside.
For some reason, you had convinced yourself that you would not find Satoru inside. After all, it was nearly the afternoon. He must have already went to the school.
That is why you were rigid with shock when you spotted him in the kitchen.
At the sound of you, his head shot up to your direction. Gone were his blindfold or glasses. In fact, Satoru appeared as if he had sprawled out of bed only moments ago. A mess of white hair sat on his head, and his crystal eyes were drowsy with sleep, yet they had sharpened with alertness when they landed on you, taking you in. He only wore a loose-fit grey shirt, alongside black checkered pants. He was slightly hunched over, arms resting on the smooth marble countertop. Beside him was a glass of what was no doubt coffee, an attempt at mending his current state. You could already imagine the amount of sugar and cream he had stirred into it in order to somehow be able to tolerate the bitter taste.
Of course he needed something to wake him up. After all, he was up all night, wasn't he?
Your shock deepened when he spoke to you, voice rough with sleep. "Where were you last night?"
The sudden, undefinable heat that surged through you surprised you. Now, he wanted to ask you about your whereabouts? Was this his attempt at seeming as if he somehow cared in any way?
"Out," you decided to say, taking your gaze off him.
From your peripheral, you saw him downing the last bit of his coffee, before turning to the sink. "Be ready soon. We're already late."
We. You had almost forgotten. This marriage was a sham only to the both of you, but very much real for everyone else. This meant showing up together was the standard. Just being near each other all the time was now expected of the both of you.
You decided to not reply, and instead opted for the stairs. Satoru made no attempt to stop you.
It was only once you had closed the door behind you after entering your bedroom that the tightness in your chest eased, but it was quickly replaced with a much sharper pain that seemed to carve itself deeper within yourself as you stared at your bed—yours, as well as his. The picture was clear in your head: Satoru with another woman who was sprawled over the bed, her head back, her manicured hands dug into his hair, her mouth open, and his head between her legs—
No. No more of that. You had given yourself more than enough time yesterday to feel whatever it was you felt towards this entire situation. Now, you only needed to focus on getting ready for work. You began to ready yourself at a pace quicker than you usually would, just in case he decided to barge in and dress himself right next to you, and soon enough you were downstairs in your uniform. You expected to still see him in the kitchen, perhaps finishing his second cup, but he was nowhere to be found.
"Satoru?" you called out.
"Right here," he replied, but the voice came from behind you.
You spun from where you stood at the base of the stairs. You almost had to blink to make sure he was actually coming down in his uniform. He was already dressed?
Your mind made the correction before you fully realised it. It was only your bed. Your bed and your room. He had undoubtedly instead claimed another bedroom from the many in this manor for himself.
Something like relief found its way into your chest. Or was it disappointment?
He had his hands at the back of his head as he tied on his blindfold, still descending the stairs. He did not spare you another glance once he reached the bottom, walking straight past you and to the door, leaving you no choice but to follow.
"We were assigned a few Special Grades, all near the same area. Shouldn't take too long." That was it. His version of presenting you with the day's activities. The sole event which you both had to be present for.
He plucked his car keys off the kitchen counter, and you were both out the door.
The next days, years, went by in the form of the blur. Wake up, go to the school together, and go home. You would be lucky to have him drop you off and actually follow you inside of the house. Satoru would almost always drive off the moment you shut the door and disappear for the rest of the night.
It was almost as if you knew two different people in one. When at the school, Satoru would shift into a version that makes you helplessly reminisce over days long gone. Energetic, loud, irritating, magnetic. The version you knew best. The version you favoured over the silent, hollow man that you are met with the moment he comes home. A man with very little words to say to you, a man who you would almost be surprised to encounter when you would be roaming the house, not at all as if it was a shared space.
The contrast was ridiculous. Ridiculous to the way he pretended to look at you when the two of you would be watched, to the way he always seems to effortlessly find you in any room he enters, to that unspoken claim the both of you had over one another, even in each other's absence.
You would sometimes find yourself losing sense amidst your facade. Leaning a bit too close to him, telling him sweet words that you had actually meant, smiling too softly at him. But after each action, you would immediately stop yourself, and reel all your emotions back to their place of belonging, sealed deep and never to be touched.
Satoru felt nothing towards you. He made that quite clear, both verbally and physically. He would carry out his duty of playing husband to you in front of the other students and teachers, before discarding the act completely the moment they were out of sight. He was in full control of himself. Oh, how you envied it—his innate ability of maintaining the utmost composure during any moment. You were much worse at keeping your emotions in check, and you hated it. Despised yourself for it.
Every day was the same, including this very morning. Again did you two drink your cups of coffee in silence and on opposite ends of the bar countertop, again were you dressed and in the car as late as usual. This morning, he had made a comment regarding a meeting you two would have to attend regarding the infamous Exchange Event. You remembered the words well because, surprisingly, Satoru allowed himself to betray a small bundle of nerves in the form of his quick speech and the complete avoidance of eye contact as he spoke. What was he stressed about? This was definitely not the first Event.
You would find out soon enough, it seemed.