you make me feel like
i've been locked out of heaven

THERE'S THIS FEELING of sonder that hits when surrounded by complete strangers. When you've been around them for a while, their faces and words begin to blur in your head, like they're not real. And it all feels a little bit like a dream. Like something out of old stories told by the experienced and the wise, the ones where the things that are said were obviously real—they happened—but it doesn't quite seem like it. It just doesn't.

There's also this other feeling of familiarity, too. The one that comes over you when you feel like you've known someone for years, as if they had always been with you even when you hadn't seen or spoken to them before. Like a shadow that lingers. A memory that passes. It's the same feeling you get when you look at someone and can't help but wonder where you'd last seen them; it's like looking through the lens of a camera, only seeing what you want to see instead of what actually exists.

This feeling of sonder nestles itself in Geto's chest. It wraps its arms around him and holds him tight, careful where its touch is. It's strange, he thinks. But it's not something that worries him too much. He has other things to think about. Like, for one, this mission he's been signed up on with both his soulmates.

"Who's meant to be picking us up?" Gojo inquired, his hands wedged into the pockets of his pants. The train had just arrived, doors opening and people stepping out. The three soulmates followed suit, glancing around and taking in the scenery. A cool breeze brushed past them and Geto saw from the corner of his eyes how Senju had crossed her arms over her chest. It was an attempt to keep warm, and Geto wondered idly why she hadn't packed a jacket with her. Nagano was famous for its freezing temperatures at this time.

"Dunno," Geto answered, tearing his attention away from Senju. He inspected the crowded area. "Yaga-sensei didn't clarify."

The sound of footsteps approaching them caught their attention. Geto turned his head to see a man wearing a formal suit and black shades approach them. "Gojo-san, Geto-san, Akashi-san," he greeted respectfully, bowing. "My name is Hayashi Kameyo and I'll be your guide whilst you stay in Nagano. Please follow me. I'll take you to the specified location."

"Thank you for your services," Geto replied humbly.

With a motion of a hand, the group of young sorcerers were directed to a sleek black car, windows tinted and all. "Let me take your things for you," Hayashi said, extending his arms. Geto shrugged off the bags from his shoulders and handed them to him. Senju did the same. Hayashi popped open the boot of the car and dropped them in mindfully.

Geto watched as Gojo rounded the car, yanking open the door and slipping inside. He walked over to the other side and opened the door. He looked towards Senju. "After you."

"Thanks," he heard her mumble as she ducked inside. Geto climbed in after her, shutting the door behind him.

He glanced at the sorcerer through the rearview mirror. "Where're we heading first?"

"Matsumoto. Yaga-san has already arranged hotel rooms. I will leave your belongings there after dropping you off."

A hum, a nod and he felt as the car turned onto the main road. Dark irises shifted to the side. Geto saw how Satoru peered out the window, a wide smile stretched across his face. Excitement highlighted his features. It looked excellent on him. Like the faint glow of a firefly in the midnight darkness. In the depths of a sheltered forest. People thought the looming trees were scary. Thought them to be frightening. Sure, at first glance, Geto could understand why. The branches spread high; leaves stretched to brush against the heavens that seemed almost unattainable.

But after spending time with Gojo, after getting to know him as more than just his soulmate—than just the strongest sorcerer—he realised that there was more to the trees than simply the dark shadows they casted.

Suguru had come to terms with the many things about Satoru. His quirks. His habits. His apathy. Even his bad, cheesy jokes.

He accepted it all. Two years passed since their strings connected, and Suguru learnt to appreciate these parts of Satoru Gojo. He found comfort in the green foliage, the soft whisper of air moving past the leaves that lulled him into a peaceful trance.

"When I heard we were coming to Nagano, I didn't expect much," Gojo's awed voice broke him out of his train of thoughts. "But it's beautiful! What do you think it would be like if we lived here? I bet it'd be nice. We could even have our own house! Build it ourselves and everything." Geto wondered if Gojo was talking about them two or all three of them.

"It'd be a nice change, that's for sure," he replied. He noticed how Senju's eyes flickered to the side, drifting over Gojo's youthful features and analysing them for all their worth. Geto bet she was surprised—even if she didn't show it (her face remained impressively blank). He knew he had been surprised, too. When they were young and starting their school term as jujutsu sorcerers.

But he wasn't now.

Gojo was one of a kind.

Somewhere, deep down, instinctually or not, Geto knew it would only be a matter of time before Senju realised that irrefutable fact.

He could see her trying to figure Gojo out. Her brows knitted together as if in thought, as she studied his face and body language, her mouth parting slightly as if she wanted to ask something. The look on her face made him smile—a small one, mostly hidden by the facade he wore. If not for her keen gaze and quick mind, she wouldn't have known he was looking. But Geto liked when she looked at Gojo like this: so intent on understanding him, wanting to understand him. And before Senju could get the words out, her eyes shifted to him. She caught him looking at her.

He leaned back into the seat.

His eyes glinted with a knowing look.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

She turned away from him. "No."

The trees blurred together. In the haze of silver and brown, they looked like nothing more than silhouettes, only vaguely recognisable shapes of what they once were—flush with life—shivering with death. A thick blanket of snow covered the natural expanse. It muffled the rumble of the car, the hushed staccato a welcome to the sight of passing roads. Awes and glees echoed from Gojo. His fingers curled around the window's base, bright eyes squinting at the scenery, entranced by the slow waltz of winter.

The radio crackled in the background, but none of them were focused on that.

"We're here," the driver announced. He parked the car. "Good luck."

Gojo excused himself first, not sparing the man any thought (why should he? He was insignificant in his eyes). Senju tilted her head, meeting his gaze through the rearview mirror. She left through the same door as Gojo, the older boy having left it open for her — Geto wasn't sure if it was on purpose or if it was something he did simply instinctually. The lines between conscious acts and impulsive measures were slowly merging into one. A ruffled, confusing mess, but one that neither seemed to mind too much.

"Thank you," he told the man.

Hayashi tapped the stirring wheel idly. "Just doing my job," he returned.

Geto shut the door. He heard the car's engine start and watched it leave, driving down the long, wide road. He turned his attention to his soulmates. Senju was looking around with disinterest. Gojo was the opposite. Geto could almost feel his desire to explore as if it were his own—a taste of something sweet and cold lathering his tongue. An itch that needed to be scratched by the vast unknown.

"Let's check out the stalls," Gojo said. He glanced towards his partners. "We've got time, right? It won't hurt to explore a bit."

Geto hummed, considering it. "Sounds good to me." His attention fell upon their third. "Is that okay with you, Senju-san?"

Senju shrugged, blasé. "Sure."

And if Geto saw how her eyes darted to the side, examining how Gojo's whole body lit up with elation, he didn't mention it.

They were on the sidewalk, and Geto lightly nudged Senju to the side when another car came zooming past. He stepped closer to the road—it all happened instinctively. He felt her eyes land on him, burn holes into his side, but just as soon as they were there, they left.

Gojo was steps ahead of them. "Come on, slowpokes," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "This way." Geto's lips twitched. They both followed him without a thought, and it almost felt like they were three parts of the same whole. No one looked twice at them as they walked, too busy staring at the local and tourist attractions set forth. Lights of different hues—red, yellow, green, blue—lit the paths of Matsumoto. On this chilly afternoon, where the sun was beginning its descent to the horizon, the city was alive.

People wore their comfiest clothes, walking either together in groups, pairs or alone. Geto realised that there was an air of harmony surrounding the mass. Non-sorcerers crowded the area, lingering together, talking amongst one another. The location they were at buzzed with an invigorated sort of energy.

It was more lively than any town Geto had been to in months—maybe years. Shops lined both sides of the walkway, filled with various products and accessories—beads, bracelets, necklaces, scarves, all manners of things. Some even sold meals traditional to their hometown; it swirled in the air and beckoned a decadent scent. Even then, even in the midst of such peaceful serenity, whereby people shared a general consensus that no harm could reach them, Geto saw the way curses littered the area. They loomed over the horde of humanity with disgusting features.

Geto wanted to leave. But he swallowed down his feelings in favour of catching up to Gojo.

"Ah, ah! I heard the hot springs here are one of the bests in the country," Gojo exclaimed, crystal blue eyes widening behind dark shades. "We should definitely check it out!"

"If we have the time," Geto said.

"They also have a bunch of ski resorts, too!" his soulmate added excitedly.

The trio continued walking down the lit paths, relaxed. "That does sound nice."

"Oh!" Geto saw how Gojo's eyes lit up. "We could rent one for the weekend. We don't get to do that often, so it'd be a nice change!"

He tilted his head to the side; his hands wedged into the pants of his pockets. "If we finish quickly, I'm sure we could get Yaga-sensei to arrange something like that."

"What about snowboarding?" Gojo wondered, his attention roaming over this part of town. Potential plans stirred in his head like wildfire. "D'ya think we could try that out?"

"I don't see why not," Geto mused.

"And there's also this ice cone I wanna try out! Mei Mei was telling me all about it the other day." Geto had to admit, he enjoyed listening to Gojo as much as he did talking to him. Hearing his soulmate ramble on, filled with glee, made his heart swell in his chest. It brought forth a warmth from deep within that he could not explain and didn't want to. Geto wanted to hear Gojo talk every day if he could manage it— perhaps that was why he indulged him. Geto didn't know if this feeling was love or something else entirely. He didn't mind not knowing. He knew that, one day, he'd figure it out. Until then, Geto was more than happy with his place beside Gojo.

"Did she come here for a mission?"

"Yeah! She said it was one of the best she ever had— and you know how tight she is with money! It's gotta be worth it. Wait, I think there's a stall over there! I'll be right back!"

"Oi! Don't go running off on your own!"

A sharp tug against his shoulder and Gojo had disappeared into the throng of people. Geto groaned, letting his shoulders slump. There was no use chasing him now.

"He's...like a child," a feminine voice sounded.

Geto had to take a moment to remember that he and Gojo weren't alone on this mission. Senju was with them— although her quiet nature made it easy to miss her. That and, Geto realised, she didn't have a presence altogether. It was...muted. Hushed. He wondered if she did that deliberately or not.

Perhaps, in the same manner as when he wasn't speaking, Senju was trying to keep up a facade of being just an ordinary, insignificant person. Geto decided that her silence was more of a threat than anything else. Like a lion that crouches, vision narrowed, focused, waiting patiently for the opportunity to pounce, kill and eat raw.

Geto looked back at her, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He had to tilt his head down to see her; the top of Senju's head just about reached his shoulders. It was cute—not that he'd ever admit it aloud. Her hair was let loose, layered into a tousled bob with unruly waves and blunt edges. It looked white... maybe a bit on the pale pinker side? Geto shook his head, ridding himself of such thoughts. Now wasn't the time. What shade Senju's hair was shouldn't matter to him.

It didn't matter to him.

"Different to what you thought?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Very." Senju was observing the scene in front of them: Gojo stood out among all the other non-sorcerers. He donned the school's uniform, altered to amplify the curves of his body. His unusually vivid hair and eyes drew the attention of everyone who saw him. They were supposed to be discrete. With Gojo as his partner, Geto knew that discrete was out of the question.

Senju blinked, white eyelashes fluttering against her skin. She turned to him. "Is he always like this?" she questioned.

Geto answered, "When he gets excited."

She nodded thoughtfully. The two soulmates stood side by side with just a breath of space between them. It spoke of their barriers and their suspicions. Neither was foolish enough to step closer and shorten the glowing red string tied neatly around their pinkies.

"You seem to care for him a lot."

A smile spread softly. "He's my best friend."

"Are you his?"

"I'd hope so." He laughed. It was one of fondness, slight sheepishness. Geto rubbed the back of his head, fingers smoothing his hair. "Otherwise, it'd be very weird."

"Huh."

Geto looked at her. "Are you jealous?"

She shook her head. "No, not really."

February of another winter, and once again, Geto found himself enthralled in another being. He didn't mean to. Knew better than to pry where he should not. But something drew him to her, like a moth drawn to the flame. Or maybe it was just the way Senju's face glowed under the colourful lanterns. The stars were all over, hidden amongst the pale blue sky, but there was no mistaking it was a beautiful afternoon. The cool breeze whispered softly through the trees and Geto knew he really shouldn't ask. But he really, really wanted to.

"Do you have a best friend?"

Senju tilted her head up. "I suppose it depends on how you define a best friend."

"Hmm, I'd say a best friend is someone you could never get bored of." Gojo flashed in his mind. "Someone with whom you feel safe and at ease." His touch, his embrace. "Where you can just tell your honest thoughts without any judgement, although mockery is to be expected." His hands were gentle in his memories. Careful as they traced the lines of his back. His lips were soft as they kissed the column of his neck. His words were tender yet humorous, filling him with a sense of happiness. "Someone who makes everything better—makes you better. Stronger." In his chest, his heart hammered deliriously.

Two worlds were colliding (another was slowly venturing closer).

"Having a best friend is like finding home."

"A home," he heard Senju echo. Geto felt himself drifting off for a second. It was familiar. A warm and comforting presence that hypnotised him into a sense of security, allowing his guard to drop down. He breathed deeply and allowed himself to relax.

Just for a second. Just to memorise the feelings thrumming through his veins.

Geto could see those blue eyes as they shone garishly when he got the chance to show off a bit, the grin on his face whenever someone did well on a mission and even more so at training. He could picture him, hear his laughter ringing, and he flinched.

That second passed, and Geto pulled himself together. He steeled his feet to the ground, tensing his muscles, forcing his heart to slow its beats. His hands shook in front of him, and he moved them behind his back. Hiding any signs of his vulnerabilities from the world. The cold air bit at his cheeks and nose.

"I guess I don't have one, then." A best friend or a home?

Senju's eyes were bright in the midst of their darkness. They shone so brightly that Geto didn't doubt that when everything else was quiet and dark, they would glow like a beacon. It was a strange contrast to their usual cold, emotionless stare; there wasn't any malice or irritation in her expression, just pure curiosity as she looked up at him.

Geto blinked down at her, trying to decipher what was so fascinating about himself.

A small part of him wondered how anyone could ever find him interesting.

He wasn't anything special. He's strong, there's no doubt about that, and he's pretty sure he looks good. But why is she looking at him like that? Gojo was much stronger than him. Much prettier, too. Not that it was a bad thing, though. Geto prefered Gojo anyway.

"You two..." she spoke slowly, and Geto had to hold his breath for a second— a sense of fear and dread filled him, and he had no clue where it came from, "...are weird."

A chuckle bubbled out of his throat before he could do anything. His eyes sparkled— he had heard from Gojo countless of times that they crinkled at the sides and showed his true emotions. The laughter that erupted was something soft, a little fond, he'd admit.

"I don't think that's something you should be saying to your soulmate," he said.

Senju's gaze lowered. They drifted to the string only they could see.

Silence passed. One beat, two, three. Geto saw how her lips parted, words on the tip of her tongue. She was debating— wondering what to say or how to say them correctly.

Senju settled for, "Can I ask a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"What do you think about soulmates?"

"Do you want an honest answer?" Geto gave her his full attention. "Or a half-truth?"

"I'd prefer an honest one, but I won't stop you from saying whatever you want," she said.

"I think soulmates are overrated. There's no one decisive factor that makes a match. A string that connects individuals doesn't mean anything if you're not ready to see the person face to face," Geto explained. He pursed his lips and slouched, looking at nothing. "But then, I guess, there's a reason why people are soulmates. In my opinion, love happens after a relationship is formed." He spoke more to himself than anything else. Geto remembered meeting Gojo for the first time— he hated him. He who was praised as being the strongest, a child prodigy. He absolutely despised his guts. But this guy was nothing like the rumours people would whisper.

He was kind and he was beautiful and he was so fucking hilarious that a day never went by where Geto wasn't smiling. He was sweet and he was a romantic, and Geto didn't mind him at all. He liked Satoru Gojo. Not his facade.

Satoru Gojo as he was.

Senju didn't say anything. She looked ahead, lost in her thoughts.

"What do you think?" he couldn't help but question, glancing towards her.

"Sorry?"

Geto repeated his inquiry, "What do you think about soulmates?"

"Nothing, really," she answered, shrugging her shoulders. "It's not something that interests me. Never really has been."

"Oh, come on," he insisted. "I went into detail. Tell me what you really think."

"I suppose, if I had to give it some thought, I'd say that soulmates are a paradigm that's overly romanticised. I'll agree that it's overrated. To say you've found the love of your life after one encounter is foolish." If someone were to catch a glimpse of Geto's countenance right now, they would think he was seeing a ghost right now— or maybe some sort of divine meeting. "However, in the spirit of what is presumed to be a romantic notion, it remains a very real possibility." 

Geto didn't dare blink. Didn't dare look away. His breath halted in his throat, and if Geto's steps faltered a little, well, that was between him and his intrusive feelings.

Senju didn't seem to notice any signs; she simply kept going, "It's not as though we're destined for eternal companionship. Though, I guess there's nothing wrong with wanting something like that. It brings about a cornerstone of a support circle, people you can rely on. Yet, amidst the motion, there's a war. One that seeks havoc and destruction. Significant confusion. How can you rely on people you've never met? What's to guarantee they only have your best interest at heart? They don't know you. You don't know them."

Geto hummed a quiet tune under his breath as they picked up their feet, walking along the path at a snail's pace. It was cold, and it was warm. It was both. And neither Geto nor Senju minded, for they shared a general consensus that you could be cold and warm.

"Soulmates are a cheap excuse for humanity to escape their depravity."

"At the end of the day," Geto mused, feeling the cool breeze brush his skin and kiss his cheeks, "soulmates are weird."

He spotted the way the corner of Senju's lips lifted discreetly. "I won't disagree."

Fruit trees stood high, their efforts barren and lifeless. Leaves were crinkled and dried, coloured white with signs of age and fragments of their demise. In this place, where things were foreign and strange, where winter had come and swallowed the city whole, there was beauty and contentment.

"Look, mama! There's fishes over there!" a small voice called out exuberantly. A boy, no older than four, clung tight to his mother's dress as he pointed beside them. "Can I have one?! The one that looks like Dory?"

"Sure, sweetie," the mother crooned, rubbing her child's head, fingering the fabric of the beanie. "Let's see if papa can win one for ya."

The father puffed out his chest; a giant grin stretched across his face. "Of course, I can!" he proclaimed. "Who da'ya take me as?"

His wife patted his arm. "Show us what you got, big guy." She smiled at him. The family of three walked over together, grateful.

"Amazing!" cried another voice. "This tastes so good!" A group of teenagers huddled together, sharing each other's warmth. One girl, in particular, presented the snack in her hand with great excitement. "Try some!" 

"Shit," said her friend, licking his drying lips, "you're right! Let me get one." She directed them to the place it originated from, and the group shuffled over together, conversing lightly with happy smiles on their faces.

"Does this look good on me?" A woman twirled around in front of a man, showing off the scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. It had a floral pattern, looked almost like silk.

Her lover reached forward. He cupped her cheek and smiled softly, eyes lidded with everything warm and tender. "You look beautiful. Nothing could ever compare."

She blushed. He fell deeper in love.

Even with the end of a year approaching, life recycles. People win. People lose. Love will remain in the edges and corners of the world— constantly, consistently, continuously.

The sound of heavy footfalls reverberated in the atmosphere. Geto and Senju turned their heads in its direction. They saw how Gojo rushed towards them, his arms filled with bags of food and other useless shit that Geto could only hope they'd manage to pack away.

"What on earth did you buy?" Geto chided, his eyes wide and unbelieving. "And how much? It hasn't even been ten minutes!"

Gojo rolled his eyes. "Just shut up and eat this." He held an ice cone in his hands and shoved it in Geto's face, getting it all smothered over his lips and chin. Geto cringed away, taking it from his hands.

Matsumoto's infamous shaved ice tasted much better than Geto thought shaved ice could taste. It was pink, purple and blue and tasted a little like fruit— blueberry? Cherry? Geto wasn't sure. Perhaps a bit of it all.

"It's...good," Geto admitted. He had to calm his heart when Gojo's face broke out into an ecstatic expression. His eyes sparkled in the afternoon light, and he looked like a kid on Christmas morning, filled with glee and anticipation for potential gifts and presents.

"Right?!" he beamed. Gojo turned to their other soulmate. He held out the other cone in his hands. "Here, you try some, Senju-chan!"

Senju raised her hand. "I'm alright."

"Ah!" Gojo tutted, stepping closer and invading her personal space. "That's not allowed! We're on holiday— one must eat to their heart's content when on holiday."

Geto noticed how Senju didn't seem to mind how close they were. She simply tilted her head to the side, brows furrowed. "But we're not on holiday? It's a mission."

"It's literally the same thing!" Gojo whinged.

"Not really."

"Ugh, just eat this!" Gojo stuffed the cone closer to her, and both of them watched the multitude of expressions cross her face. Surprise, irritation, reluctance. Then, as the taste laid on her tongue, sweet and chilly, bursting with flavour, her facial muscles eased and she looked a lot more relaxed.

"It doesn't taste bad."

"Ah-hah!" Gojo looked proud. Like he had just achieved a long-time goal. He stood in his place, hands on hips and grin wide. His face was flushed from running around, and his sunglasses were slightly fogged up from his heavy breathing. "Want the rest of it?"

"Sure."

He handed her the mini spoon, and Senju indulged herself. "Thank you." She took her time to eat bit by bit, her attention focused solely on the different colours that seemed to merge together to reflect a poorly designed universe. There was glitter on it, and Senju figured it was edible. Why else put it on?

Geto saw Gojo sneak out his phone. He took a picture of their soulmate, saving it to his camera roll. Gojo met his piercing gaze.

Send it to me, he mouthed.

Gojo smiled wickedly.

He mouthed back, Of course.

With the phone away from Senju's sight and the slight vibration from his own, Geto began, "Come on." He waved, motioning for them to follow him. "We still have things to do."

"Can't they wait till later?" Gojo's lips contoured into a petulant pout. "There are still so many places I want to explore."

"We can do that after we've exorcised the curse. Until then–" Geto snatched the cone out of his hands, taking it back from his greedy, glutinous clutch–"no more."

"You just want to eat it all!"

He continued forth and brought it into his mouth, taking a big bite out of the shaved ice.

Gojo gasped in horror. "Suguru!"

He cried out dramatically as the younger boy just continued walking ahead with a smirk on his face. Gojo ran up to catch up to him, taking ahold of Senju's wrist and tugging her along with him. "You play the gentleman part, but you're as horrible as me, if not worse!" he yelled, pointing accusingly.

"I don't know what you're talking about it."

"You totally do!"

Geto peeped behind him. He saw how Senju fixated on the hold Gojo had on her. His long, slender fingers held her gently. It must've been a different feeling if the surprise on her face was anything to go by. He wasn't an idiot. The Akashi clan was notorious for its harsh training regimes, and as their star child, Geto did not doubt that she suffered the most.

He looked to the front.

It didn't matter, though. She was here now.

( they would not chase after her,
regardless of the string connecting them )