Geto didn’t think he’d wake up with Gojo tucked into his arms like this ever again.

The pad of his thumb flutters across the bags beneath Gojo’s eyes, down his cheeks that no longer have the baby fat he enjoyed tugging on, and to the lips that are parted to exhale softly.

Oh, how Geto remembers— he remembers everything, so much he isn’t sure if he’s still dreaming or if this is actually reality. This very moment haunting him the moment he walked away from Gojo, finally becoming reality.