Chapter Text
“To Satoru, the best friend we can ever ask for our Utahime. It’s rare to know someone who can read and understand our girl, and we’re glad you do. Here’s a simple Christmas gift for you. We look forward to seeing you more in our holidays. Karo and Umi Iori.”
Utahime flips the photo that came with the note — Ugh, why am I even looking at this? Get a grip, Utahime —back to its spot on Gojo's bookshelf. Rows and rows of pictures, like a mini-museum of his life, and she's in way too many of them.
It was his favorite, he'd told her once. Building a snowman, Gojo's arms thrown up in the air, probably yelling something ridiculous, and Utahime with that "you gotta be kidding me" look she always gets when he's being a total goofball.
A snapshot from forever ago, taken by her dad. Nine years. Nine years of Satoru, of her family practically adopting him as their own. Nine years of…well, of being the best friend. Of hiding the stupid, ridiculous feelings that refuse to die.
She forces a smile, her eyes tracing over the other photos. There's one from his graduation, her squished between him and some girl he was probably hooking up with at the time. He'd introduce the tall, dark-haired girl as his "friend," even though their hands were practically glued together. There's another photo from her homecoming party, the one where she wore that red dress and he actually looked at her like, well, like a girl. "Utahime, you're a pretty girl!" he'd said, and her stomach had done a flip that had nothing to do with the champagne. He'd even danced with her, holding her a little too close, a little too long.
A newer photograph shows their first ribbon-cutting event, him all CEO swagger, her by his side, the marketing mastermind behind the GojoStar Marketing Firm. Later that night, they'd celebrated with cheap takeout and even cheaper champagne, his arm slung around her shoulders as they toasted their future. There's another snap from that time he bought his stupid, ridiculously expensive sports car, bragging about how he'd "get all the ladies now." Yeah, right. Like he needed any help with that. But he'd taken her for a ride, the wind whipping through her hair as he sped down the highway, his laughter echoing in her ears.
She was a permanent fixture in his life, a recurring character in his personal photo album. But always the friend. Always the best friend.
Every visitor who saw the photos would ask the same question: "Oh, Mr. Gojo, is this your girlfriend?"
And he'd always give the same answer: "Oh, no. Not at all. That's Utahime Iori. My marketing head. And my long-time best friend."
Best friend. The words echoed in her head like a death knell, his constant reminder of where she sits in his life. It was like a brand imprinted on her -- she was just his friend. Even when he was holding her hand in a crowd, his fingers warm and reassuring around hers, it was just "best friend" things. Even when he'd crash at her place after some girl had broken his heart, his arms tight around her waist, whispering "Don't leave me, Hime" in that wrecked voice of his, it was just "best friend" comfort.
He was the king of the friendzone, and she was his unwilling, forever subject. Not that she can fault him for that. He doesn't know.
And maybe that's why she said yes. Why she agreed to run his entire company while he was off in the US for three months, schmoozing with some advertising guru. Because deep down, beneath the layers of friendship and denial, there was something more. A feeling she couldn't quite name before, a pull she couldn't resist.
Love. Stupid, persistent, unrecognized, and unrequited love.
"Hime, there's no one I trust like you," he'd said, his voice all charm and desperation. "You know how I like things. Please, please, please, just hold down the fort for me."
And because she…well, because she was in love with him, she said yes.
Knock, knock.
"Ms. Iori?" Miwa's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Yeah, Miwa? What's up?"
"I can't find the DJ's number! He's supposed to be here in four hours for Mr. Gojo's party, and I'm freaking out!"
Utahime, ever the calm one, even with her insides a tangled mess, found the number and passed her phone to Miwa. "Chill, he'll be here. Did Satoru call you, by the way?"
"He did! But he said there will be a big surprise later, so I shouldn't tell you! Oops, pretend I didn't say that. Bye!"
Utahime stood there, puzzled.
A surprise? What was Gojo up to now?
He was beginning to worry her. He'd been acting weird for weeks— their once-daily calls have now become sporadic, sometimes at 3 AM, his voice a hushed whisper about some amazing thing he couldn't talk about yet, other times just a jumble of words she couldn't quite understand. It was like he was slowly forgetting about her. And now this "surprise." Seriously, what was the idiot planning?
—---------
They say you never forget your first heartbreak.
Utahime, veteran of countless Cosmo articles (the ones Gojo called "old lady magazines"), knew the stories. The woman who lost her fiancé on D-Day, forever haunted by a love lost too soon. The woman never remarried, she said she was haunted by such a great love she couldn't imagine loving someone else.
She saw it in Shoko, her friend, who'd practically drowned herself in tequila after her first breakup with Suguru. Desperate, pathetic. Although she and Geto did get back together, her pitiful state would always stay on Utahime's mind.
Utahime had always vowed she'd never be that girl.
But Gojo had this way of chipping away at her heart, little by little. Each time he pushed her -- shove her -- back into the friendzone, each time he cried on her shoulder about some girl who didn't want him, each time his eyes lit up for someone new…it left a tiny crack. She'd gotten used to it, though. Told herself that at least she was the one he spent the most time with, the one he always came back to.
But nothing could have prepared her for this.
The party was in full swing, but Utahime was stuck backstage, dealing with a panicked candy supplier who was apparently battling rush hour traffic. Satoru always enjoyed luxury candy for his party giveaways, this couldn't be late.
"Just take the elevator and use the back entrance," she'd hissed, tapping her foot impatiently. Lateness was not in her DNA, but here she was, about to sneak into her own company's party like a fugitive. Gojo was already on stage when she arrived at the hall. Despite his towering height, she knew he was too distracted in impressing the employees to notice her. So she slipped quietly, ducking down to avoid attention.
She stole a few glances from him. Ahh, how she missed him. She noted how buff he has become. Apparently, he caught on the trends -- he bid farewell to his spiky locks for a more clean-cut look. It suited him. Oh, how she missed him.
"Missed me?" Gojo's voice boomed through the hall as if he was in-tune with Utahime's thoughts.A chorus of "yes!" answered him. Utahime, hiding in the shadows, rolled her eyes. Show-off.
"There are a few people I need to thank," he continued, his voice radiating that Gojo charm that could melt glaciers and earn the forgiveness of anyone who had a hard time because of his absence in the company. "First of all, Mr. Ijichi, I owe you big time, man. You had the wheels of this business running as smooth as I did. A bonus awaits you!"
A few hoots and whistles were heard from the crowd as Ijichi bowed shyly.
"To Miwa, who has been such a loyal secretary waking up at 3AM every day to have a run-down with me, you are a superstar."
A bright blush hit Miwa’s face as her colleagues chanted "She deserves a raise" to which Gojo gave a thumbs up for.
Gojo clears his throat. He's nervous, Utahime knew it. "And of course, to the woman who has really helped me get through these past 3 months. She’s been such a loyal and patient partner and I love her for that…"
Utahime's heart started to pound. Thump, thump, thump. Like any second from now, her heart will jump out from her chest. Why was he talking about her like that? A flutter of hope, quickly extinguished by a wave of dizziness. He couldn't be…
"She’s listened to me, she helped me when I was really struggling with the experience, she helped me make big decisions…"
He should stop, Utahime thought, her cheeks burning. Or people would think they were more than friends. She was so confused.
"To the woman I would talk to from dusk till dawn. Every day. For the past three months."
Then it hit her. A cold realization replaced confusion. He wasn't talking as much to her. He was not talking about her. He couldn't be.
"Hana Kazuke. My wonderful girlfriend, and our new legal head who will now be working with us. Please welcome her with a round of applause."
A slender woman in a black dress stood up and politely bowed to the crowd. Beautiful, she was beautiful, Utahime acknowledged with a sinking feeling. Her gaze shifted from Hana to her best friend. He was wearing that smile -- yet again -- a smile she frequently sees when a woman has captured his heart. Utahime felt ridiculous. The gall and the nerve of her to think Satoru would ever see her in that light. Hana was a proof of her broken delusion.
With smooth steps, Hana went up the stage where she was welcomed with Gojo’s outstretched arms. When she was close to him, he gave her a sweet peck on the lips and held her side.
Hana was breathtaking, truly a fit for Gojo. Her stunning brown hair and her smile were proof why Gojo fell for her.
Amidst the cheerful clapping of hands, a few whispers were heard. "We thought he was talking about Utahime-san."
If Utahime was ducking, she wanted to duck some more. She didn’t want any attention.
Gojo clears his throat. Hana still on his side, his hands settling on her hips.
"Of course, there’s someone I need to thank too. Probably over 100 bottles of beers and more first class tickets for the the Seibu Lions baseball games. U-ta-hi-meee, are you here?"
He was calling for her. She knew she had no choice but to steel herself and once again flash that big bubbly smile that always, ALWAYS concealed her true feelings.
"Gojo, you idiot. I thought you'd forget about me!" She playfully shouted back, hoping her voice didn't betray the tremor in her soul, or the tears that were threatening to fall.
"Come up here, Uta!"
Her steps were hesitant, but she knew it was a necessary part of her act. The best friend. The supportive colleague. The one who would always be there, no matter what. She took the steps to the stage, where Gojo welcomed her with a tight embrace. And that's when it hit her. This wasn't just a crush. This wasn't just a silly infatuation. This was…love. A deep, aching, all-consuming love that she'd been suppressing for years, burying it under layers of friendship and denial. And now, seeing him with Hana, seeing the way he looked at her, touched her, loved her…it was like a knife twisting in her gut.
She gave him a weak smile and an overly sweet "Welcome back," trying so hard to conceal the gaping hole that was forming inside her.
That's when she took a good look at Hana. Beautiful Hana. Goddess-like Hana. Perfect Hana. Gojo's Hana.
And like the good best friend that she was, she gave Hana a hug.
"We're so glad you're going to be part of the company, Hana," Utahime said, her winning smile firmly in place. But inside, she was dying. Liar, a small voice in her mind tells her .
Gojo led the crowd to give her an applause. He took a step back as Utahime bowed at the center. He turned to where Hana was standing and gave Hana a peck on the cheeks.
The crowd gave another round of applause with more hoots and whistles. Oblivious to the fact that in that exact moment, Utahime—a sore sight compared to the lovers beside her—knew for the first time exactly what a devastating heartbreak truly was.
But Utahime was strong. She would not crumble. She would not let this break her. She would stand tall, she would smile, she would congratulate them, she would celebrate with them. And she would bury this pain deep inside, where no one could see it.
Because that's what best friends do.
--
She knew she couldn't last one minute more. The gnawing, aching part of her heart couldn't be hidden no longer. Pretending is exhausting, she makes a mental note not to bring herself this torment again.
"Satoru, I'm so sorry but I may have to call a rain check on this dinner with Hana. Can you lovely love birds excuse me for now? I have an important call with Tarlec corp. We can't miss that, right?" She was lying. She flashed a charming eye smile, hoping that it won't give her lie away.
But Gojo, oblivious as ever, simply shook his head and said "Am I making you work too hard? Next time, I'll cancel your meetings myself."
Just so you can torment me? Utahime thought bitterly.
"I promise. Next time. My treat. I really have to go. Ciao."
She ran to the exit without looking back. She knew that turning back would betray her emotions, her eyes that are starting to get a pink tinge, evidence of how long she was stopping her tears from falling.
She doubled her steps, eager to reach her office, her safe space.
The moment she closed the door, the tears fell. She leaned at her door, and even in the confines of her office, she was careful not to make her cries reach the hallway. Utahime let it all out -- the years of pining over a man who never saw her more than a friend, the years of not seeing that she'll never be seen in a romantic light, the years of letting her chance at love go.
Now, she's going to work with his new woman. Every day, she'll see how she's played the game even she was a declared loser from the start.
She'll be over this, she said to herself, she needs to.
That's when she stood up and pressed a key on her laptop to trigger her screen to light up.
There's the email. There's her answer.
"Ms. Utahime Iori, greetings from Maxim Tech. We would like to offer you the position of Chief Marketing Officer for our head office in Illinois. Please let us know the best time to have a call with you."
Illinois. Illinois sounds a good idea. Illinois for her broken heart.