Finally.

Geto finally got to rest after a long day of school. Yeah, yeah, you'd think he was in high school and struggling with math or something, but he wasn't. Instead, he was dealing with shitty fucking curses.

Geto gently pushed the blanket aside, revealing a sheen of sweat that glistened on his skin, despite the rhythmic whir of the fan nearby. He pulled the man—who was likely shivering from the cold because a certain dumbass took a nice, warm blanket away—closer to his chest, wrapping him in warmth and comfort, as if to shield him from the chill that lingered in the air.

He was the only person who kept him from pulling a Kurt Cobain—besides Gojo, of course. Geto wouldn't actually kill himself but he felt like it sometimes. Having a cursed technique wasn't always fun.

Geto pulled him even closer and tossed one leg over him to keep him in place. He pressed a chaste kiss to the other man's forehead and muttered, "I love you, y'know that, right?"

It was a question Geto always asked. It was to the point it was a daily thing. He just loved his boyfriend so fucking much, even if he did do stupid shit at random times.