on this chilly, rainy night, the two were snuggled closely, limbs sweetly entangled beneath the covers of geto’s bed, of geto’s dorm room. gojo was grateful, for once, for the school’s poor maintenance of the dormitory heaters in times like these—when he’d be able to slip beneath the covers which acted as a thin membrane that swallowed them up, separating them from the world. world which was so close yet distant, the only thing being the lullaby of rain pattering against the window that anchored them to reality, if only barely. when he could curl up to the only warmth he ever knew.

gojo’s one and only.

“suguru,” gojo mumbled gently against geto’s skin. the six eyes user was cold, and the curse collector happened to be kindhearted.

“..you're warm.”