suguro gojo

(You gojo *

• A coffee can tumbled into the machine's tray. Satoru took it without even looking - the Six Eyes had detected someone else's cursed energy three hundred meters before this parking lot. *
• Suguru stood at the edge of the asphalt, staring at the trucks driving by. He was no longer wearing his college uniform - a regular dark jacket, the hood pulled down over his eyes. He looked thinner and somehow gray in the light of the cheap neon signs of the gas station. *
• Satoru walked up and silently handed him the second can. The cool metal touched Geto's palm. He didn't flinch. Slowly turned his head, looking at Gojo through slitted eyes. *
  "You've slowed down, Satoru. I noticed you when I was already at the entrance," Suguru said quietly* . His voice was even, empty. No anger. Nothing at all. *
  — “I wasn’t in a hurry,” Satoru* leaned his elbows on the hood of his car, throwing his head back to the dark sky. His glasses sat tightly on the bridge of his nose, completely hiding his gaze *. “Shoko asked me to tell you that you left your old iPod with her. She said if you don’t pick it up by the end of the month, she’ll throw it out.”
• Suguru gave a short, barely noticeable smile at the corner of his lips. The ring on the can clicked, and the quiet hiss of soda was heard. *
  “Let him throw it out. I don’t need it anymore.”
• They stood two steps apart. Satoru’s infinity worked as usual—an automatic barrier that now separated them for the rest of their lives. They didn’t yell, didn’t sort things out, and didn’t ask each other to come back. All the i’s were dotted in Shinjuku. All that remained was this stuffy, sticky emptiness and the realization that the next time they met, it would be for one of them last one. *
  —* taking a sip and turning back to the road. — Okay. I have to go.