i love reading

so when your professor pairs everyone up for a presentation project, he’s over the moon when the two of you end up getting paired together. maybe always sitting in the seat next to yours and asking you for clarification on parts of the lectures finally paid off.

and when he invited you to his off-campus apartment because it’s “quieter with no distractions” (he doesn’t want you looking at any of the other frat guys), you were surprised, to say the least.

not because he invited you over rather than meeting at the campus cafe, but because of the digimon posters strewn on his bedroom walls and a shelf nailed into the wall above his desk filled with shounen manga. and below that, on the wall that his desk is pushed against, is a physics-related poster.

he watches your eyes curiously flick over all the dorky merch and decorations, and he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. people might think that he doesn’t care about what they think of him, but he desperately wants to know the thoughts going through your mind right now.

you half-expected to see a digimon plush on his bed but instead you find a neatly made bed with navy blue sheets.

is this the same gojo satoru that you know? the heartthrob of the campus? the cool and charming fratboy?

“what’s up?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “you’re looking at my room like it’s a murder scene.”

you snort softly, shaking your head. “nothing. just… didn’t take you for a digimon guy.”

he chuckles and plops down on his bed, leaning back on his palms and manspreading. “ah. well, the secret is out. promise you won’t tell and ruin my reputation?” he jokes, smile widening when your lips curve up softly.

he takes a moment to admire you outside of a class setting. the way you stand by his desk, fingers laced together and your shoulders slightly stiff as you rock back and forth on your heels like you’re unsure where to sit and what to do.

a soft smile tugs at his lips, dimples revealing themselves. completely different to the blinding grins he blesses everyone else with. a calm blue in his eyes despite his heart hammering behind his ribs.

standing up from the edge of his bed, he pulls out his wheeled desk chair and gestures for you to take a seat.

“sit down. i’ll get us some snacks. any preferences?”

“anything, as long as it isn’t those sugary atrocities you call food.”

his head tips back with laughter, his eyes sparkling with amusement when he looks at you again. “if it isn’t food, there wouldn’t be any nutritional value on the label,” he says matter-of-factly, though jokingly, and you can’t help but huff out a laugh.

he’s grinning to himself as he leaves his room and goes to the kitchen to scour some snacks. he can’t ignore the fluttering of his heart nor the warmth creeping onto his cheeks. and he has to mentally keep himself in check.

it takes him a few minutes to grab snacks, solely because he’s trying to remember what you like to eat. trying to remember the glimpses of seeing you have lunch under the oak tree, a book in your lap while you eat. you always look so peaceful and content, even if he wanted to go up to you to talk, he could never bring himself to pop that little bubble of peace.

when satoru finally comes back to his room, where you’re scrolling on your laptop that you propped up on his desk, black frames are sitting on his pretty face. opting to switch from his round sunglasses because his contacts were drying his eyes out.

you look up from the screen and take a double look, surprised to see him wearing glasses - you didn’t even know that he needed them. and you can’t help but admire him subtly as he places a bowl of crisps on the desk next to you, along with a packet of strawberry laces, a bar of chocolate, and two cans of cola.

“… you look cute with glasses,” you murmur, keeping your eyes on your laptop, scrolling purposelessly now to avoid making eye contact.

a grin immediately jumps onto his face like that was the first compliment he’s ever received as he sits back down on the edge of his bed, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin in his palm. his blue eyes lock onto you as he feels a flutter in his chest and an unfamiliar churn in his stomach.

“yeah? does that mean i finally have your attention?” his tone is velvety and teasing, but he’s internally filled with giddiness. he swears he feels like he’s floating.

you turn away from your laptop to glance at him curiously. “what do you mean?”

“well, sometimes you act like i’m invisible,” he huffs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “you’re the one person who looks at me like i’m… normal.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you are normal. you’re human, not some god.”

he chuckles at your bluntness, head tilting to the side and his pearly hair follows his movement, falling to the side gracefully like it was scripted. “i like how honest you are. makes you genuine, you know.”

“what, compared to the people who kiss your ass?” you ask, rolling your eyes at the thought.

amusement crinkles the corners of his eyes. “yeah, exactly that. this is… nice,” he admits softly.

it’s a nice change from being with the other fratboys and the people who flock to him. despite his heart beating rapidly each time you look at him or smile, he feels relaxed in your presence. like he doesn’t have to play a role or act a certain way.

you examine him again, trying to read him, trying to solve him like the many equations you’re able to crack.

“is this really you? or is this a new tactic of yours to try and get me in your bed?”

he chokes on his own spit at your direct question, the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears turning red like he’s a prude. which, clearly, he’s the opposite of. sliding his way into hearts with his smooth words and wooing girls with a smile that lives on his mouth like it pays rent there.

but when it comes to you, it’s like all his charm flies out the window. like he doesn’t know how to flirt without becoming nervous.

“no!” he exclaims, before clearing his throat. “no, i’m not trying anything, i promise.”

and from his flustered reaction, you can assume he’s telling the truth.

“hm… why do you put on that persona, then? the popular one. assuming that it is a persona.”

his body language suddenly changes and he sits straighter, something suddenly shifting in his expression and his eyes don’t give any hint to his thoughts.

“i thought we came here to work on a project, not analyse me,” he dismisses lightheartedly, a faint smile on his lips. he comes off as unbothered, but at the same time, he manages to swiftly change the subject like he wanted to.

you nod, choosing not to pry. you aren’t friends anyway. turning back to your laptop, you pick up a few crisps while you read a paper.

you hear the pop of him opening a can of the sugary drink and he takes a few sips before setting it back down on the desk, on a coaster that has a pattern subtly referencing an anime.

he grabs his own laptop, and you ask for his email to share the document with him so you can work on the project together. you both agree to do some research first and he sits back against the headboard of his bed, long legs stretched out and his ankles locked.

the packet of strawberry laces rustles slightly as he picks it up and offers you some before mindlessly chewing on them as he works on his laptop, occasionally fixing his glasses.

you’re surprised that he readily agreed to the equal split of work and didn’t waste time on getting started. when you got paired with him, you assumed that you’d have to nag him about it or that you’d end up having to do it all by yourself while he takes half the credit.

though, he can’t help but steal a few glances at you while you work. watching your concentrated face, the way you rhythmically tap your fingers on your laptop while you’re thinking, how you brush your fingers through your hair every so often when it falls into your vision.

he manages to do work for an hour straight before he itches to talk to you again about anything other than the project (he was already missing talking to you after twenty minutes).

“sooo… you like digimon?” he asks, trying to break the silence and make a small attempt at conversation with you, to get to know you.

you look up at him, and the way his hair frames his features makes him look… soft. almost boyish. his frosty eyelashes fluttering when he looks up from his laptop and towards you.

it’s like there’s a different satoru in front of you. one who suddenly doesn’t know how to flirt or make conversation, and somehow his voice is more honeyed when he speaks to you - uncertain and lacking confidence. a contradiction to the air of confidence that follows him everyday like a shadow, even with a mere turn of his head.

you’ll admit that this is somehow more charming. like he isn’t putting up a front or being someone who he isn’t. like this is him.

after a few moments of pondering the switch in his behaviour once more, you reply, “not really. i mean… i barely know the difference between digimon and pokemon.”

a scandalised look befalls his expression as his mouth falls open, halfway through eating a strawberry lace.

“you’re kidding, right?” he scoffs, unbelieving. “digimon is like ten times better in terms of the power system and the characters. it was way ahead of its time, and it’s so much more complex in terms of the world-building and the deeper themes, and--”

suddenly, he pauses. realising that he was rambling and he gives you an awkward smile.

“shit, sorry,” he mutters, scratching the back of his head again. “you probably don’t wanna hear about all that shit.”

“on the contrary, actually,” you say, having listened to his mini rant with contentment. “it’s cute and dorky.”

“i got called cute by you twice today. aren’t i lucky?” he grins, all teeth and dimples. a soft pink dusting over his cheeks. “have i wooed you yet?” he teases.

“i say ‘cute’ in the way that people would call a puppy cute. don’t inflate your ego more than it already has been.” you roll your eyes, though playfully.

his grin never falters. knowing that you find him cute in any way makes him feel like an overly excited puppy. and it sounds much better coming from you compared to anyone else.

“still cute,” he affirms. he leans forward, setting his laptop aside on his bed. “alright, for every hour of work we do, we watch one episode of digimon,” he decides, “you know, to keep up the motivation or whatever.”

a smile tugs at your lips and you consider his suggestion - it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“and,” he continues, checking the time on the clock hanging on his bedroom wall, “we’ve already done one hour.”

he stands up from his bed, stretching his arms over his head as he looks down at you with a smile. you get a glimpse of the ridges of his abs before he lowers his arms, his smile turning mischievous when he notices your eyes flicker downwards.

but he decides not to tease. instead he waits for your answer, hopeful that you’ll say yes.

“alright, just one episode,” you agree, and he beams.

three episodes later, neither of you realise that another hour has gone by; this time, without a shred of work being done. when you glance at the clock and realise the time, you sit up straight on his sofa.

“gojo, we said one episode,” you huff, confused as to how you let the time slip past you. yeah, you probably got distracted by his quiet explanations throughout the episodes and his humming to the soundtrack, but you still don’t know how you let it happen.

when you reach for the remote, he turns to you with a pout. “wait, wait, we have plenty of time to get the assignment done.”

“well, i prefer to stick to a schedule and not waste time.”

“well, you’ll have to get used to being a little more chill, stickler,” he argues childishly, watching you pause the episode and you give him a firm look. “fiiineeeuuhh, i guess we’ll do some work.”

he drags his feet going back to his room and getting back to the project, lazily sprawled on his bed with his laptop while you sit at his desk again. he’s slightly more distracted this time around like he’s itching to do anything else. and it wasn’t the desire to watch more digimon, but to spend more time with you outside of a class or project setting.

you had left a distance between the two of you while you were sitting on his sofa watching digimon, but having you sit close to him made him feel a type of fuzziness that he’s never felt before. he thinks about having your body warmth so close to his, the way you seemed relaxed and were enjoying watching it. he can’t help but want more moments like that with you.

satoru doesn’t realise that he ended up zoning out, pretty eyes on you, glassed over with a deep yearning and a delicate blush on his cheeks.

“… gojo?” you call quietly, a concerned lilt in your voice when you notice him stuck in a trance.

“satoru.”

“huh?”

“call me satoru,” he clarifies, now back to reality and smiling at you softly.

“oh… okay, satoru,” you say, tasting his name on your tongue and the way it rolls off so sweetly.

his heart lurches. he wants to memorise your voice and how you say his name. he wants to bottle up each smile and gaze you give him. he wants to cherish every moment with you. and he can’t help the words that he says next from tumbling out.

“do you wanna go out with me?” he asks, before immediately waving his hands as if to defend himself. “i mean… not as a date, unless you want that. but like-- fuck… i just want to get to know you. if that’s okay with you. i get it if not--”

your light laugh cuts him off from his nervous rambling, and he looks at you with puzzlement and surprise and awe. his palms feel clammy and his heart thumps in his chest it’s as if he can hear it pounding in his ears.

is this what it’s like to have a crush? god, i just made myself look like a fucking loser. but she’s so cute when she laughs i can’t even be upset.

“sure.”

“yeah, whatever, that’s okay. i didn’t think you’d want to-- wait, what?” he looks stunned, like he was prepared for you to turn him down. or at least hesitate before saying yes. maybe he would’ve had to wait for a few more of these sessions before you agreed.

“i said sure. although, i wouldn’t want to term it as a date. not yet, at least. getting to know each other sounds nice if you bring along this you, not the other you.”

his mouth parts slightly, his mind racing with thoughts. “… this me? you like this version of me?” he asks, sounding shocked. and here he thought he was making a fool out of himself.

you nod, giving him a sweet smile that makes his heart trip over itself. “the real you, right?”

“fuck, if i had known that you like this… nevermind, it doesn’t matter now. okay. okay, i’ll plan something for us.” he can’t bite back the smile of pure giddiness, and he feels like a lovesick schoolgirl, internally swinging his legs back and forth. a rush of ideas already come to him - the hard part will be choosing a single plan.

“i look forward to it, satoru,” you say, and he clings onto every word. “but we do still have our project to do.”

he doesn’t deflate like he did before at the mention of the assignment. because this time he has something to keep him motivated. and at least he knows that this won’t be the only reason you guys hang out. if anything, he’s more eager.

“yes, ma’am, whatever you say.”

𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝖽𝗎𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 -

psychology club

brothers and sisters

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𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 -

01. first psych club meeting

02. wat dat mean

03. everywhere i go.

04. ???

05. ???

tba...

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