Gojo was used to stares, he’s the hot guy on campus, the school heartthrob and all that nonsense, after all. Still, something feels off.

People weren’t just looking like they normally do, in that way that people do when they undress him with their eyes—as if he doesn’t have a whole girlfriend already—no, now they were pointing, whispering, some even covered their mouths as he passed, small chuckles leaving their mouths.

Still, he threw on his trademark grin, threw out a few winks here and there, just because, and kept striding toward first period. He loved attention after all, fed off it, even.

“Oi, Gojo!” Geto’s voice cuts through the murmur of the crowd, the two of them tower over most of the other students, so it isn’t a surprise to Gojo that his best friend already found him.

Turning around, he opens his mouth to greet him, only to be met with Geto doubled over, wheezing with laughter. “Pfffttt— dude, have you seen your face?”

Gojo blinks at that, his smile finally faltering for the first time today. He could do with the whispers, the pointing and subtle laughter directed his way, but he couldn’t ignore it when his best friend laughed at him like that.

Confusion finally starts to creep into his mind, and for the first time since leaving the dorms he decides to check his own reflection. Grabbing his phone, he flips the camera to selfie mode, only to be met with his own reflection.

Lipstick. That’s the first thing that registers in his mind. It’s absolutely everywhere. Bright, unmistakable prints stamped across his cheeks, jaw, and even the bridge of his nose.

How he didn’t feel it before is beyond him.

And then Satoru sees you across the hall, casually leaned against the wall with a lollipop between your lips. The same exact shade smeared all over his face gleams on your lips. It sits there perfectly, like you haven’t just marked him up a mere thirty minutes ago.

He can see the way you try to smother your laugh, lips clamping down around the straw as the edges quivered with barely-suppressed laughter. But the moment Gojo actually looks at you, you break down, laugh bouncing off the walls.

Gojo’s jaw absolutely drops the moment your laughter reaches his ears—betrayed by his own girlfriend, who just let him walk around like this. “…You—!”

He bolts towards you, weaving through startled students that are all still standing around and pointing at him—or more specifically, his face and the bright marks you left all over him. “Sorry— move— coming through— watch it!”

You squeak the moment you see him bolt towards you. Spinning on your heel, you take off down the hall, still laughing around your lollipop as you try to shake off Satoru.

Unluckily for you his legs are longer, strides faster, long legs eating up distance much faster than you could. Before you disappear around the corner, an arm hooks around your waist, reeling you back in.

“Gotcha,” He says, a hint of amusement detectable as he takes a few breaths in.

You twist in his hold, looping your arms around his neck as the lollipop still dangles between your lips, laughter spilling out of you in gasps. “You should’ve seen your face—”

“Oh I did. And so did everyone else,” he cuts in, grinning down at you as he takes in your laughter. He bends in a little closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “You trying to kill my reputation?”

“Me? I would never,” you’re still giggling, lollipop clinking against your teeth softly.

Gojo pouts, those glossy lips pushed out as he looks at the reflection of one of the lockers on your right. He tilts his head slightly, bangs brushing against his forehead as he inspects the stains across his skin. “You missed a spot, sweetheart.”

Before you can even ask him where you could possible kiss him that you haven’t yet—his entire face already covered in lipstick stains—he leans down and kisses you.

The moment he leans back, your lollipop is in his mouth, and he makes a show of it to pull it out of his mouth with a pop. “Now we’re even.”

One month. The words keep repeating in your head. One whole month since you and Satoru started dating, and your life has never been the same since.

He drags you into every kind of reckless idea he can think of in that pretty mind of his, making you laugh until you cried—or shrieked until you clung to him, burying your face into his neck while he chuckled at you (safe to say you’re never going to go ghost hunting ever again).

Now you’re standing in front of his dorm room, a gift basket in your arms that’s heavier than it looks—it’s a white basket with a pretty, blue bow around it; it practically screams his name. The plastic crinkles as you shift the thing in your arms.

You’re honestly starting to regret this. What if he thinks this is stupid? What if he laughs at you? What if he forgot?

The door opens before you can spiral even further. Satoru smiles when he sees you, glossy lips stretched into a grin that falters slightly when he sees the basket in your arms.

Shit. Shit. Fuck, he doesn’t like it.

“I just- uh… I thought it would be nice to give you something for our one month anniversary, and I know people don’t normally do this, like, this is supposed to be a one year thing, and god, I feel so stupid, I probably—”

“These are for me?” he interrupts softly, voice slightly unsure as he points one long finger at himself, like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening right now.

A nervous laugh bubbles up, spilling past your lips before you could clamp it down. “I mean, yeah? Yeah. They’re for you.”

The three white roses clumsily shoved into the basket are fresh, your basket carefully assembled: Kikufuku Mochi, popsicles you knew he liked—which are definitely melted by now—Coke cans, assorted sweets, and a polaroid of the two of you that Shoko had snapped.

He stares at it for a second, all of it, before his eyes start welling up. His. Eyes. Start. Welling. Up.

“Oh god,” you blurt out, horrified. “You hate it. I knew this was dumb, I knew it, people don’t do this sort of thing. Just- just forget this even happened. You probably think I’m insane—”

Satoru laughs, a little garbled sob coming out right after, fat tears still cascading down his cheeks. “You got me flowers,” his voice breaks on the last syllable. “No one’s ever done that for me before.”

That made you freeze completely. “…Seriously?”

It sounds completely insane. No one has gotten him flowers before? That just doesn’t sound right. He’s Gojo Satoru, the campus heartthrob. Surely someone would’ve gotten him flowers before?

He quickly pulls you into his arms, long limbs wrapping around your waist as he burrows his face into your neck. The basket is awkwardly squished between the two of you.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he mumbles into your skin, tears soaking through your t-shirt.

You laugh at that, a quick little thing, more like huffing a breath through your nose. “It’s been one month, Satoru.”

“Exactly! Best month of my life.”