#writteres

You’re always late to the first class on Monday because it’s History, obviously. Gojo is waiting for you in the second last row reserving your seat, looking towards the entrance of the class every now and then. Literally everyone in the class knows that the seat beside him is yours since the second grade. Although the places change during English, because duh, the teacher knows you guys are two very tough competitors for the upcoming essay competition next year. You could beg your way into the class and take the seat.

 “So how was breakfast with Nietzsche in the cafeteria?”  he whispers to you.

 “Good” you chuckle. 

You reach for your notebook and pen, but you forgot to bring your pen. You turn towards Gojo and he already hands you an extra pen that he always carries with him for you. He always shares his stuff as if it is yours have as much as it is his. His black water bottle, that extra sandwich he’d carry for you, hand sanitizer and his I-Pod. 

 Everything is so easy with him. He knows when you’re off. He wouldn’t try to talk you out of it. He would just be around. Wouldn’t make a big deal out of anything you say. Would never judge you for a thing and the most important thing, would laugh with you all day. 

After school hours would be you at his place or he, at yours. He’d go to football in the evening, and you’d be swimming right beside the football field. 

In between the endless hangouts, there’d be bad days where he’d always show up for you. There’d be long occasional hugs when times are bad times.