toji lets go of his throat and geto shoves himself free roughly, coughing at the sudden rush of air into his lungs. he will sport the red marks on his throat for awhile yet, a thought that further infuriates him.
he massages it, taking quiet note of the fact that it actually aches, meaning: he's not dead. and despite history, toji isn't dead either. it's fortunate for the both of them that toji let go when he did, because that's about the extent of geto's arsenal vis-à-vis gay chicken without having it get unsettling for them both.
but here, when he gets to look toji right in the eye, geto is acutely aware of something else: that the man is also a convenient vehicle for his hatred. the cult who hired him and all the ugly, ugly humans in it -- how the star vessel incident seems a thousand years away and yet is not, the splintering of his path from gojo, the one true connection he has ever had in his life.
how did geto survive him?
grandly, he holds his arms out, because it will not do to tell the truth: that something broke and died inside of geto that day, swallowed up by unaddressed guilt, grief, rage and resentment. and geto had been lost, untethered to his only friend who had become so strong that geto could never reach him again.
and then geto had fallen, forever lost. the man that geto suguru used to be did not survive fushiguro toji at all.
and so geto looks into the face that embodies his greatest, most devastating failure, and smiles. it's a wonder that he doesn't choke on the weight of his resentment. ]
Wonderfully, of course.
[ his smile sharpens, and there's nothing friendly about it even if he objectively knows that fighting about this is pointless. they're both already dead. ]
no subject
toji lets go of his throat and geto shoves himself free roughly, coughing at the sudden rush of air into his lungs. he will sport the red marks on his throat for awhile yet, a thought that further infuriates him.
he massages it, taking quiet note of the fact that it actually aches, meaning: he's not dead. and despite history, toji isn't dead either. it's fortunate for the both of them that toji let go when he did, because that's about the extent of geto's arsenal vis-à-vis gay chicken without having it get unsettling for them both.
but here, when he gets to look toji right in the eye, geto is acutely aware of something else: that the man is also a convenient vehicle for his hatred. the cult who hired him and all the ugly, ugly humans in it -- how the star vessel incident seems a thousand years away and yet is not, the splintering of his path from gojo, the one true connection he has ever had in his life.
how did geto survive him?
grandly, he holds his arms out, because it will not do to tell the truth: that something broke and died inside of geto that day, swallowed up by unaddressed guilt, grief, rage and resentment. and geto had been lost, untethered to his only friend who had become so strong that geto could never reach him again.
and then geto had fallen, forever lost. the man that geto suguru used to be did not survive fushiguro toji at all.
and so geto looks into the face that embodies his greatest, most devastating failure, and smiles. it's a wonder that he doesn't choke on the weight of his resentment. ]
Wonderfully, of course.
[ his smile sharpens, and there's nothing friendly about it even if he objectively knows that fighting about this is pointless. they're both already dead. ]
Have you met your son yet?