gojo only shrugs, lazy smirk on his face and you have to bite your tongue to hold back the barrage of insults brewing in the back of your throat. “screw you, gojo. just wait until you get your mark and we’ll see who’s still smiling then.”

as if summoned, your teacher passes by, sending gojo a glance you can’t decipher no matter how much you squint. they place his paper face down on his desk, ready to be scrutinised.

you wait patiently as its picked up, time almost slowing to a halt. you immediately ditch the idea of reading the score through the back of the sheet and instead, you observe gojo’s facial expressions knowing they’ll give it all away even before he says anything. no matter how hard he might lie, the truth is painted as clear as day on his face, the only true outlet of his emotions. 

and was that hesitation as gojo picks it up, his face just barely surpassing the fleeting expressions that flicker past? shock, perhaps? and maybe you were hallucinating but was that, disappointment?

gojo’s eyes scan the paper before he slams it back down, loud thud causing you to blink. his hand comes up to cover his mouth, leg bouncing.

the corners of your lip wavers.

his eyes seem to escape yours.

“what did you get, gojo?” you ask, slowly, carefully.

the boy sucks in a breath, finding something particularly interesting in the far corner of the classroom. he murmurs something incoherent. 

you tilt your head. “what was that?”

“i said,” he hisses. “you win.”

a giggle trickles out of your mouth, before full blown laughter escapes you. you lean back against the edge of your table, holding the chuckles back into your mouth with your hand but its not enough, and its leaks out without remorse.

gojo finally turns back to look at you, huffing as you so clearly tease him. “what the, stop laughing.”

“where did your cocky attitude go? weren’t you just telling me how you let me win all these years? you’re a bad liar, gojo!” you continue laughing even as you turn back around at the call of your teacher, his frustrated face engraved in your mind.

the teacher knocks twice on their table, signifying the beginning of the lesson. the class settles into a serene quiet though there’s a feeling of gloom and doom. not from you, of course, not after winning against your life long academic rival. 

getou leans across his table toward gojo, lowering his voice as he whispers. “you should probably tell them before it’s too late.”

gojo sighs, cradling his cheek with his palm, the anger on his face melting off like a liquid mask. he watches you chatter quietly to your seatmate, sometimes waving your hands in muted excitement and sometimes rubbing the back of your friend’s hand in comfort. “but look at them! they’re so happy when they’re ignorant.”

“i have no idea how you managed to fool them to begin with. especially when i’m actually the second rank. i feel like i got scammed.” he mumbles the last bit.

“me neither. imagine my surprise when they suddenly came up accusing me of being first rank on the first exam we had in our first year.” gojo pauses. “now that i think about it, they probably saw my 49 as a 99.”

“... on the revision exam?”

“yeah.”

“dude.”

gojo shrugs. “it’s either this, or i do something else to try and get them to pay attention to me. and hey, when life gives you lemons, right?”

“i think it’ll be easier if you just confessed.”

“they would reject me in a heartbeat.”

“true.”

getou bites back a scream, swatting away gojo’s hand as gojo pinches his thigh under the table. he sends the white haired student a glare.

“i don’t need a friend that doesn’t support me.” gojo justifies, snickering underneath his breath. 

“i was keeping it real!”

the teacher turns their back to the board. “getou.” they warn, eyes picking out the long haired student chattering shamelessly. 

he immediately quietens, feeling the class’s attention turn on him. when they all finally look away, getou rams his heel into gojo’s foot.

“ow!”

this time, instead of the teacher turning around, you look back from your chair and send them both a withering look. your eyes slide from getou to gojo, slightly surprised when you find him already looking. 

shock quickly melts into triumph and you bare your teeth at him, not even bothering to hide your elation. you wonder why he only quietly smiles, remaining still even when provoked. 

you turn back around before the teacher can pick on you, your victory slightly dampened with confusion.

“you should just confess. what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“they say no.” gojo mumbles, and the words alone is enough to dim his mood. 

getou is quick to catch it. “that’s all though, isn’t it? the worst thing that can happen is them saying no.”

still unconvinced, gojo flickers his gaze onto you, imagining what it’ll be like if you ever stopped talking to him, even if you only spoke to him briefly now. 

“god, you are so hopeless.” getou says into the silence that follows. 

“what’d you say?” gojo sighs dreamily, giddy smile adorning his face as he looks on at you, his previous feelings literal seconds prior already forgotten. you really were his remedy. 

at the same time, you itch your back, feeling something prickly. 

getou rolls his eyes. “you need to come clean sooner or later.”

“i pick later.” he sits up slightly, the lovesick gaze disappearing as he glares over at his friend. “what’s it to you anyway?”

“i’m just looking out for you, man. what will you do if they find out you’ve been lying to them all this time?” 

getou’s words unfortunately have some truth to it, and perhaps it’s because gojo’s still not over getou slamming his foot on his, that he ignores that truth. “whatever.” he says, returning to his daily habit of watching you. 

if he had listened to getou then, would things have been different? would you not have arrived by his desk first thing next morning, gojo seeing first your black shoes by the legs of his table, then the deep crease between your brows? would he have seen the embarrassed flush in your cheeks, admired the fact you’re still looking him right in the eye despite it all? would he have traced the movement of your pretty lips as you spoke, fantasised about the feeling of your tongue in his mouth, your hands on his body, his—

would he have felt the palm of your hand as you slapped him?

“that’s for being shameless enough to not even have excuses.” you hiss, and he realises a second too late that he had only been staring at you, falling into his subconscious habit. “since you have nothing to say now, i hope you never speak to me again.”

“wait!” gojo manages to say, jumping up from his seat when you start to walk away. 

you stop, offering him one last chance. it’s early morning and gojo’s blessed with having a small audience, but with every single eye digging into him, digging out every last piece of potential gossip, even the all powerful gojo feels tongue tied. 

still, he can’t miss this opportunity. this was the time to apologise. he’s never been good at it before, but he’s seen enough of the exes-to-lovers trope in movies to know that a good apology begins with “sorry.” so with all attention on him, yours the most important one of course, gojo opens his mouth and says,

“i like you.”

shocked silence fills the room and a single “oh my god” is heard from your best friend shoko as she pops out the lollipop in her mouth to comment. 

gojo doesn’t care about any of it, he never would, not when the only thing that matters was you. 

you feel heat rush through your entire body, starting as uncomfortable pricks on your back and the underneath of your arms before warming even your face. “what?”

“hm?” he asks, intelligently. 

your hand flexes as if ready to send another slap your way and honestly, gojo might be anticipating it.

“you think i’m joking?” you seethe. 

“no, i’m being serious!”

“you like me?”

gojo blinks. “is that what i said? i thought i said sorry.”

shoko can’t help herself, she giggles into her hand. 

the noise wakes you up for the haze and you grit your teeth to stop yourself from cursing out gojo’s name. he did think this was a joke after all, treating the matter so lightheartedly as if he hadn’t lied to you all these years, as if he hadn’t made you look forward to your stupid rivalry, as if he hadn’t left you speechless the very first moment you locked eyes that day in first year, as if you hadn’t pulled any excuse out of your ass to start a conversation. 

the class finally makes noise again, and whispers echo in your ear.it causes your head to spin. 

“you are a jerk.” you force yourself to say through the anger, hoping the sudden liquid in your eyes could be explained away as a yawn (it can’t be).balling your hands into fists, you dig your nails into your hand such that the pain can distract you from the embarrassment. “i am so serious when i say this, never talk to me again, creep!”

and then, before he can catch your arm, you leave, whirlwind left in your wake. 

gojo’s hand pauses in the air, like a sim having their action canceled when they were already on the way doing it. eventually, he reaches up to hold his cheek. it’s warm under his touch though he’s unsure if it’s pain that makes it hot, or his unreciprocated feelings. 

in a daze, gojo sits back into his seat.not even a minute later, the door slides open again but it’s not you this time. gojo’s mood sours slightly as getou walks through, hope evaporated.  

getou’s eyebrows shoot up when he sees gojo pouting at his desk. “you’re early for once.” his eyes don’t meet gojo’s, and the white haired boy sighs. 

“just say it.”

getou laughs loudly. “what happened to you?”

“they slapped me.”

getou doesn’t even need to ask who, already picturing the scene in his head. “and?”

“the worst thing they could happen is not them saying no.”