yukari

The ache in your heart never seemed to subside. It was persistent, constantly reminding you of everything you tried so hard to forget.

You so badly wanted to prove to yourself that you were stronger than this, wanted to walk into class the following week with your head held high and pretend that you were just fine- even if it was just pretend.

But you couldn't. 

Everything felt so incredibly difficult and brutal. Time taunted you, moving in slow motion yet simultaneously in the blink of an eye, sunrises transitioning into sunsets while you spent your days in bed drained of energy and dreaming of cerulean blue eyes.

Body, mind and soul feeling as if they were weighed down with cinder blocks and you were drowning.

Your heart had been completely shattered, broken into a million fragments and the idea of healing felt akin to finding a needle in a hay sack. Hopeless. Futile. Impossible. A puzzle with too many missing pieces.

Your mind was the worst, the temporary comfort exactly that. No where felt safe, the four walls turning into nothing but a tool to only make you feel more suffocated. 

You could go anywhere to escape gojo, but you could never escape yourself.

Never escape the way you replayed the words he spoke to his friends, the way he looked at you, the way he cried, or the way he told you that he was in love with you.

Everytime you shut your eyes, his would find you.

You started skipping your classes after that, started skipping everything actually. Daily little walks to clear your mind, little coffee pick me ups, meals- it all ended. You were a shell of a person now, unable to put back together your own pieces.

No. Gojo had really taken a toll on you, really pushed you past a limit you didn't know existed.

And the worst part of it all was that you were still in love with him, still missed him and the way he'd distract you in class or grab your hand just to drag you somewhere while you playfully put up a fight. The way his stupid blue eyes seemed to light up at you just the way yours did at him. The way he made you feel.

And it was brutal, unnecessarily ruthless the way your mind plagued you when you thought of his lips and the night he kissed you. So cool, yet boyish and slightly clumsy as if gojo too was nervous, as if he truly didn't want to mess it up.

But each time your mind cursed you with a perfect little memory, it was shut down with the images from that night. 

You had stumbled home after, purely driven by your grief induced rage, vision blurred from the tears that were constantly filling your eyes and painting your cheeks. 

But arriving home to your lonely apartment was no better. Throwing up alone snotty, sweaty, and gross was absolutely horrible- and ignoring the messages and phone calls that bombarded your phone was nearly impossible. 

The alcohol settled further into your bones and your drunkenness multiplied but you didn't have the guts to block him just yet- torturing yourself further when you began to listen to the voicemails he left while you desperately clung to the sides of your toilet sobbing and hurling.

You ignored them of course, sloppily brushing your teeth and crawling on top of your sheets, drunkenly throwing off your clothes but not caring to wash the make up off your face or the gravel fully out of your palms. 

Then you proceeded to sob so hard you had to throw up again until finally you cried yourself to sleep. And when you woke up with swollen eyes, a scratchy throat and a pounding headache, praying with all your might that it was a nightmare, you realized it wasn't, your sober self having to go through the entire cycle again of processing what had happened, the heart break, the humiliation- everything. 

You were slow to block his number, tormenting yourself the few days after that night as you religiously watched his texts flood in, spamming you with apologies and this and that and the ways he would change and loved you and wanted you and it was masochistic and everything you never hoped for and why couldn't you tear your eyes away? Why did knowing what he had done to you make it no less harder to think about him?

Being vulnerable and desperate with a visceral want to be loved angered you far more than he ever could. 

And still, you let yourself think of him lovingly and kindly, and there, because god you would be a liar if you said you didn't miss him and everything he was, and the way he smelled and smiled and existed. 

And still, losing Satoru felt like the only light in your life had been snuffed out, and you didn't care if it was pathetic because it was so undeniably painful and true and ignoring that fact would be a lie through gritting teeth. 

You wanted to hate him. You knew you couldn't.

And amongst your tears of self loathing and hatred, you cursed the way you loved so loudly and deeply. The most twisted thing of it all.

With him blocked, your phone was dead silent. The quiet was loud. 

You weren't sure how long you stayed in bed after that. Always exhausted as soon as you woke up feeling void of life that the white haired boy had given you. merely reduced to an organism that could only breathe.

But with timing and the world so happily on your side, you were gifted with finals and exams during your period of heartbreak, the ultimate stake in your heart. Your grades had already plummeted from your lack of attendance and half assed assignments and despite spending the last few weeks wallowing in your self pity instead of studying, you knew the least you could do was at least show up to the final exams- even if he would be there. 

Rubbing your eyes with a sniffle, you forced your body to move, willing every deteriorated muscle to act. to put on clothes that weren't pajamas and to try and behave like a normal functioning being.

There was no motivation, but a small determination to take a step out of your apartment for the first time in who knows when. 

You'd walk to the library, distract yourself with studying- spend the remainder of the week drowning yourself in work to pass your finals just enough so that you'd still pass all your classes and when that was over, you’d let yourself suffocate in the thought of him all over again, but for now- you had to do this.

Throwing on a hoodie that was not his- why would he have given you so many t-shirts and hoodies if you were just a bet, was he just expecting to ask for them back after he pranked you?- you begrudgingly readied yourself to the bare minimum, yanking the door open to begin your dreaded walk.

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, your eyes landed on a handful of envelopes that laid on your doormat- slightly dirtied and weathered and you wondered just how long they'd been sitting there.

You shakily exhaled, nerves bubbling in your throat as trembling fingers picked up a total of at least five envelopes, all bare save for your name simply written in the middle of each, all in different handwriting. You looked around, retreating back into your apartment to hastily rip them open, curiosity getting the better of you as you were unsure of what person (multiple people?) you knew who were writing you letters and leaving them at your door step.

You pulled out the first letter, concentration written on your face as you scanned it over, not reading the content yet but just staring in pure confusion and then- 

Your jaw felt slightly slack, eyes widening. You opened the next, and the next and the next, words unread but eyes falling on all the separate letters from Gojo and his friends and frat brothers. All written lengthy apologies from Gojo, Geto, Sukuna, Fushiguro, a couple other names you didn't know but must have been involved with the bet.

Your fingers clutched the papers, catching certain paragraphs and biting your lip to once again hold tears back.

-didn't even know who you were and we did that to you. Guess thats why we felt like we could do it, as fucked up as that sounds. Gojo’s making us all write these apology letters to you and I hate saying sorry, but I am- we are all sorry. We’re just a bunch of assholes who thought it would be fun to fuck around with him and I guess you too, so yeah. Im sorry for being a part of it and hurting you, even if ive never talked to you. And wow that sounds really bad. Also, Gojo was telling the truth even though he lied at the party, another brother really did grab your gifts from him to throw it away, but tbh those cookies looked really good so I was gonna grab the container after anyways but asshole gojo got to it first. What type of cookies were those? Do you think-

You rolled your eyes automatically, hurriedly glancing away from sukuna’s letter to skim fushiguros.

-frat pres is so fucking annoying and gojos up there too. Sorry for hurting your feelings, we really did just want to fuck around and did think it was funny but damn I actually feel bad. So I'm sorry for that. It wasn't as funny as we thought. Think you could forgive his annoying ass and make some more cookies? Fucker grabbed the container before-

Then geto’s.

-Y/n I'm sorry that I was kind to your face and then let this happen behind your back. And not just let it happen but participated. You have always been a very nice girl and we took advantage of who you were for a laugh, and I swear to you that no one is laughing. You didn't deserve any of that and we don't deserve any of your kindness or forgiveness. I know I have no right to say, but Ive never seen Satoru like this and ive known him for years. I promise you that the bet was not his idea, that he shouldn't have gone along with it of course but none of us were thinking, we didn't know that you would be you-

You angrily huffed, tossing the letters onto your counter and refusing to read the rest of them and certainly not Gojos. Why did it matter if it wasn't his idea? Okay so what if he didn't throw your things out and was planning on getting them after, he still- you slammed your eyes shut, throat beginning to burn as tears welled up in your eyes.

He still did it, still said all that shit in front of everybody. Still lied to your face even when he was supposedly in love with you.

“Fuck you gojo,” you whispered to yourself, annoyingly wiping away the wetness in your eyes with the back of your palm. His letter remained unopened on the counter practically begging for you to read it and like every action did now, it took everything in you to leave it and walk out the door 

The trek to the library was uneventful, slow and quiet as you pushed forward with anger in your veins. Your face was concealed by your overly large hood and headphones, staring at the cracks in the sidewalk.

“Y/n.”

You froze on instinct, ice shooting through your veins as your body betrayed you, the entrance of the library laid just up ahead taunting and laughing.

Prickles of heat stabbed alongside your neck and the saliva in your mouth grew sticky and gelatinous, hard to swallow as you attempted to focus on breathing in through your nose, out through your mouth. 

“y/n,” the familiar tone that you had once loved, spoke the syllables of your name so softly, so light you hoped you had imagined it. So much emotion laced through and over and around the word that you never wanted to hear it again.

But that would be too easy on you, a too great display of mercy casted onto you by the universe.

You braced yourself, slowly turning and unintentionally, your mouth gaped, gaze landing on a very disheveled sick looking gojo who looked every bit like a heartbroken boy. You clearly weren't the only one skipping meals.

The words landed in an instant without thought, claws out, nails sharp.

 “Leave me alone,” you spat, making your break for the library but his hand caught your wrist in a gentle but firm hold, electricity shooting up your arm and you screamed to yourself to ignore it, that it wasn't what you thought.

“Please, please y/n, I know i don't deserve it but just give me a minute-”

“For what? Think you can get in my pants that quick and win your stupid bet? I don't want anything to do with you.” The words burned as you spewed the hate and spat venom, so unlike you and it only served to anger you more. You didn't feel any better being mean to him, didn't feel good or victorious watching the features on his pretty and now sunken in face contort into hurt. 

Fuck, it only hurt you more. Only made you want to take it back. Teeth tore into your bottom lip, eyes diverting anywhere but at him. But you didn't move. Let him grip you and hold your wrist, and you hated the familiarity and comfort that came with the touch. You were pitiful.

“How did you even know I'd be here?” the question flew from your lips before you could properly think about it, eyes focusing on the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“I.. I didn't. You haven't been in lecture a-and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable by showing up at y-yours.. I’ve just been,” Gojo glanced away for a brief second, pale skin flushing a pretty pink. “I’ve been waiting outside the library everyday in case… in case you'd come.” 

Your mouth opened, then shut, unable to find the words to respond to his unexpected statement you only thought could be a bluff. Another lie just to get you to forgive him. “For what, three weeks?”

He nodded, hesitant and shy, as if the fact might annoy you, looking anything but like the notorious campus fratboy and instead so childish. “Im so sorry y/n. Please, can we talk? Do you want coffee? I'm so sorry, I miss- I miss you so much, I feel like i c-cant function with out you and I meant it, I'm so in love with you-”

“Gojo.” You stopped him, fingers curling in on themselves to painfully dig into your palms, to try and ground yourself with anything but what could only be deceitful words.

His voice was breaking, hoarse and gravely as if he'd been crying too, rambling the words out like he knew you were about to leave him and he only had a few seconds to say what he needed to but he couldn't- there wasn't enough time to for him to tell you how sorry he was, not enough hours in this lifetime for him to prove how guilty he felt, or how desperately he begged to take it all back. He was a mess, and anybody could see. He knew it wasnt about him and his feelings, knew and deserved the pain he felt after what he did to you, but fuck he couldn't eat. Couldn't do much more than you.

He kept spamming your number with texts, hoping the green would turn to blue, kept ringing your number. Kept going to lecture in case there was a chance he might see you. But fuck if he didn't look and feel like shit. 

“Don't. say. that-”

“But it's true y/n, i love you, i cant stop thinking about you, I wish i could take it all back, It wasn't a bet anymore it was real- it was all real,” Gojo spoke voice shaking and adamant, the first sign of his old spark making a display.

If there was anything he was unyielding about, it was his attempt at making it known to you that his love for you was real. “Y-you don't need to love me back thats-thats okay, just know I love you. I love you-”

“Stop saying that!” You seethed, eyes watering as he kept repeating the phrase that made you feel physically ill, like you might just vomit if he spoke the lie again. It didn't matter. None of it mattered if he loved you and you loved him, it didn't matter anymore. You shook off his grip that you had forgotten was on you, abruptly turning to make your way inside as you kept your head down, praying your tears wouldn't fall just yet. 

“Did you get the letters?” He called out from behind you. 

You paused, refusing to turn, grinding your molars, feeling like shit and thinking of a final blow that could hurt him. You wanted him to hurt. You didn't want to hurt him. You wanted him to hurt. You didn't want to hurt him. Who was this person you were becoming? 

“Fuck your letters. It's basic empathy that you all feel bad. You'll never come close to understanding how I feel,” and in the reflection of the building's glass windows, you watched the way his shoulders slumped, the way his head dropped to his chest in defeat, ruffled white hair strewn all over the place.

For once, the bright boy looked exceptionally dull, clad in a now too big black hoodie and sweats, radiant blue eyes fizzed out into a soft blue, pale undereyes now decorated with large purple bags. 

You bit your tongue wanting nothing more than to tell him you didn't mean it, that you did- but not quite like that. Wanted to run your fingers through his hair and undercut, over his sharp and perfect features and accept his apology, get some food in him and make sure he got a proper night's rest. 

Your chin wobbled, lips trembling, mind deceiving you and urging you to just turn back and look at him. There was nothing you wanted more than to give in, every synapse firing telling you to just do it. 

you sped forward before your body could betray you once more, beelining it to the women's restroom where you could freely sob, heart breaking all over again as you hurt the boy you loved back. Knowing he deserved it did nothing to soothe you. You loved him too much.

Gojo respected your distance. For the time being at the library.

When you walked out hours later, sun long gone and campus streetlights projecting soft yellow glows as the quiet hum of the outdoors enveloped you, you felt somewhat successful. At least you had tried. 

You would have sped walked home, if not for the familiar head of hair that poked out from under a black hood. Gojo, on the bench, outside the library. 

You scoffed lightly to yourself, preparing to book it past him before he noticed it was you, but what didn't go unnoticed by him? He was always oddly infuriatingly attentive to everything, which would have been great if.. Well.

“W-wait, y/n! Are you- are you hungry, did you eat? You were in there for hours and-”

His voice was a catalyst to your anger. You spun to face him, ready to chew him out, patience long gone. Gojo, bothersome and persistent and maddening and beautiful, already walking towards you, already there. 

“Really Gojo? Haven't you done enough? Was lying to my face not enough that you have to keep following me around and messing with me? I don't- I don't care okay? I just want you to leave me alone, please. What don't you get? Your game is over, so please, stop doing this, the prize cannot be that good,” Your edge was sharp and frustrated, emotions bubbling over like a perfectly planned volcanic eruption as the words stumbled out of you. 

“Yes,” the words tore from him just as frustrated, just as hopeless, hands running through his white strands in an attempt to ground himself, to gather his thoughts. “Yes, the bet- the game whatever- it's all over- been over, and yes,” he pleaded, hands reaching out towards you but you quickly stepped back avoiding his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashed across his face. “Yes, I've done enough- but I can't, I won't stop telling you i love you, please believe me-”

Rage fizzed up inside of you, bringing your palms up to shove at his chest, just as you had done that night. It was infuriating, it was aggravating, being taunted by something- someone you wanted so bad yet couldn't have, by someone who was so close yet needed to be kept at arms length.

“Ugh! You don't love me Gojo!” You spoke over him, ignoring the persistent nod of his head as the words I do Im so in love you I do tumbled from his clearly overbitten red lips. “You don't- don't do what you did to someone you like, let alone love!” your voice broke, staring at him incredulously. “I liked you so much. Don't you get that?” The end of the sentence wasn't hastily spewed anymore, it was slow but urgent, a plea for him to understand the severity at which he hurt you.

“Y-you guys purposefully picked me, because- because you knew that i was a loner and had no friends o-or whatever, and still, you dragged me along, made me- made me fall in lo-” a choked noise cut you off and you whipped your head to the side to break eye contact, not wanting him to see the pain you were in, not wanting to be weak before him. It felt like a humiliation ritual all over again. 

You inhaled a deep breath, swallowing to ease the tightness of your throat, to blink back the wetness in your eyes. “Each day you saw me, you went back to your friends and knew what you were doing, while the entire time, I thought- I thought I was just lucky, that finally- maybe I deserved something good, t-that maybe I did deserve someone as good as you.”

Gojo stayed silent absorbing your words, street lights reflecting in the glossiness of his eyes. His chest rose and fell rapidly, jaw muscle twitching every second. For once, he didn't interrupt you, just listened to the damage he knew he had done. 

“And then I was so excited to see you- I didn't care if it was a party or if your friends were there I just- I just wanted to see you,” you sighed, briefly shutting your eyes to work up the courage to say what made you feel so sick, so unwanted. “And then there you were in front of everybody, b-because, again, you're someone! Everyone wants to be near you! And you just-” your breath hitched as you relived the scene, could physically feel your heart plummet all over again and the shudder that racked through your body as you pictured him standing there. 

Your shoulders dropped as you loudly exhaled, unable to say the words aloud that replayed in your head and kept you up at night. “Everybody wants to be around you, or talk to you, o-or be friends with you Gojo. You don't know what it's like to have never had that, and then to hear the guy you lo- the guy you like- speak so…” you groaned, hands momentarily covering your eyes and throwing your head back in embarrassment. “Like I'm just- just this thing, like I don't have actual feelings, I just,” you paused before finally meeting his eyes again, all wide and starry, glassy and beautiful with tears. “I just can't get it out of my head.”

Silence hung around the both of you as the two of you stood mere feet away, imperfect yet perfect reflections of the other. Both completely hurt and devastated, both torn and beaten down for the same reasons yet not at all. It would be easy to forgive and forget, so easy. Especially when he stood with all his glory looking so unwell and defeated but of course, so frustratingly perfect even at the worst times. Even when he was wrong and felt so right..

Your tongue ran along the back of your teeth, poking the inside of your cheek as you waited, unsure for what. 

“I am so sorry, y/n,” he whispered, a tear breaking tension and dropping down his cheek. 

You sniffled, nodded, staring.

“I know,” you whispered, and walked by him, stifling the sobs that threatened to burst out of you

When you woke the next morning, you were once again faced with the fact that you would not be spared from the clutches of gojo who was seemingly intent on making it very clear that getting over him would be the most difficult task. ever. 

There were dozens of flowers outside your door, a sign of gojo's unfortunate persistence and dedication. You cursed him, convincing yourself that you were bringing them inside for just a moment before you'd shove them in the trash. 

But they were spider lilys, your favorite and so hard to find. 

You racked your brain for how he knew, chalking it up to a lucky guess. but then your memory, ever so cruel, reminded you. Flashed you the thought of how you had once told him in an off handed random conversation months ago… 

and he had just… remembered? 

You rolled your eyes, willing the thought away, willing him out of your head and somewhere far far away, but your hands were already moving, already filling a vase- several vases with water. He didn't have to know you kept them. They were just flowers. Just your favorites. 

It didn't mean anything, and it certainly didn't mean you were any closer to forgiving him. 

Gojo didn't show at the library for the remainder of the week. Not that you noticed. Not that you cared. 

More goodies had mysteriously shown up on your doorstep, ranging from coffee with the words “I love you,” written in sharpie on the plastic or breakfast from your favorite diner (more apologies written on the bag that you refused to read) to the matcha dragon jellycat with a pink bow on the head, that you had absolutely no idea how he knew you'd been wanting- or how he was able to get his hands on it considering it'd been sold out for months. 

You kept it of course, not wanting to punish the stuffed animal for his actions, but your forgiveness would not be bought. You were surprised he at least had the composure and maturity to not bang on your door.

It was the last night before finals, and it was just your luck that it was pouring furiously as you stepped out of the library at two in the morning. You worriedly stood under the awning in almost pitch black darkness, the campus streetlights doing little to nothing to illuminate what would be a horrible walk back as you watched every single tree bend over backwards from the sheer amount of wind force.

You groaned, nervously chewing on your thumb nail as you racked your brain on what you could possibly do, so past exhausted and wanting nothing more than to call it quits and climb into your bed. 

“Hey.”

You gasped, eyebrows shooting up your forehead and whipping around to see what potential threat might be facing you, surprisingly visibly relaxing when your eyes landed on none other than gojo. Of course.

A hand raised to clutch the fabric over your heart, exhaling in relief when you realized you weren't about to get kidnapped.

“Holy shit you scared me,” you breathed, moreso to yourself than him, fear catching you off guard for a moment that you didn't immediately curse at him. You didn't say more, letting the thunder and pitter patter of the rain fill the heavy silence, didn't ask what he was doing there.

Gojo stood awkward, almost out of place. Hand in his pocket and other lightly gripping around the handle of an umbrella that went clearly unused by him. Damp strands of snow white hair stuck to his forehead and wet clothes clung to his body. He looked so pretty just standing under the awnings flickering lights, eyes somewhat unfocused but glued on you, and you had to force yourself to look away, could practically feel the blush creeping up your neck at how pretty he looked. 

It seemed as if your body would continue to betray you.

“Can I take you home?” He asked softly, cerulean eyes filled with a glimmer of hope shining at you.

“Nope. It's fine, I can wait. I'm sure it'll be done soon.” blunt and final. Gojo's heart raced at the lack of venom as if it was a sign. Sure you were uninterested, but you didn't immediately tell him to leave you alone. It meant absolutely nothing, yet to him it meant everything- meant light at the end of a tunnel, a stray getting a taste of food after having been starved. His heart raced in his chest, words catching in his throat. He could play it cool, not beg, not repeat himself over and over again like he'd been doing, just try to do enough yet not too much to just get you with him for a few minutes one more time.

“It's after 2 y/n, we've got our final tomorrow and it's pouring. I know you're tired, just let me take you home. Please.”

You rolled your eyes to yourself, exhaling and contemplating his words in your head, cursing every upper power for their unwillingness to toss you a bone. 

Do you suffer for the ten minute car ride and get home and go to sleep, or wait here for lord knows how long to just sprint home, maybe get caught in the rain anyways with all your papers and laptop in your bag in the pitch black- you groaned quietly. It was a no brainer.

“This means nothing. I'm serious, Gojo.”

The smallest of smiles creeped on his features, the corner of his lips turning up ever so slightly, and along with one of the prettiest grins you've ever seen came the embarrassingly increasing pounding of your broken heart. You regretted it as soon as he stepped closer, hating the way he made you fluster even after shattering your heart.

“Come on, I'm parked this way,” and right away his free hand reached for the strap of your bag, tugging it down your arm and slinging it over his shoulder, opening the umbrella and positioning it directly over your head before guiding you out into the rain. You opened your mouth in protest, but he was too fast, ultimately deciding to just keep your mouth shut to get it all over with. 

The two of you sped walked in the rain, dodging puddles to the best of your abilities and your heart ached painfully at what could have been. The moment was mocking, undeniably sweet. 

An unintentional squeal shot out of your mouth when a particular violent gush of wind suddenly sent the umbrella inside out, both of you getting momentarily soaked- or well, mainly just you. Gojo didn't fit under, choosing to just hold it over you and was already looking like he had jumped in a pool.

You couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter that rolled out of you watching gojo curse and spew apologies at you getting wet as he frantically tried to fix the umbrella. His curses turned into chuckles and as soon as it was fixed, the laughter died down into awkward silence, your cheeks burning and a new wave of sadness crashing as the two of you walked side by side. You knew this was a bad idea.

He opened the passenger side of his far too fancy car, a small murmured “thank you,” reluctantly falling past your lips as you watched him run to his side, blasting the heater once situated. For a beat, you both said nothing, sitting in the idling car while a tsunami stormed around you.

He cleared his throat. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes.”

“Good, good, that's good.” He spoke too fast, sounded too eager. The car stayed parked, Gojo flexing his fingers in his lap, adams apple bobbing as he nervously swallowed. Fuck was he neverous? He didn't want to fuck this up- okay well he was already so past that, he didn't want to fuck things up more, which surely by now would just be impossible. He's just missed you so, so much, still pathetically texting your number everyday incase he wasnt blocked anymore, racking his brain for any other way to show you he's sorry and means it, that he-

“Gojo.”

“Yes?” He's immediately swiveling his head towards you, thoughts interrupted, eyes wide and mouth gaped at what you might say. The yes sounds more like a plea than anything, a beg for you to talk. You spoke to him and it didn't sound like you were going to curse him, what is it what is it what is it??

“Take me home.”

His shoulders deflated, embarrassment creeping up his neck and hope now a mere fleeting thought. What was he thinking?

“Right! Um- yes sorry, of course, my bad,” He mentally cursed at how awkward he was acting and fuck if it didn't sting, but it was everything and more that he deserved.

No music, no talking, just the white noise of the rain and occasional clap of thunder, mixed in with the heat blasting from the vents. He parked outside your apartment building, mustering the courage to try and speak before you could escape. He had ten minutes to think, to scrounge up anything and suddenly his mind was entirely blank except for just you. Just you looking far too pretty exhausted and wet at two am, sitting in his car, right in front of him. Was this real? Was he imagining you?

You spoke first, already unbuckling your seatbelt, eyes staring straight through the windshield. “No more flowers. No more gifts. No more anything. This-” you motioned between yourself and gojo. “Whatever this is- was- no more. Done. Thank you for driving me home, but no more.”

The words burned as you forced them out, every thought in your mind telling you nononono. 

“T-theyre from uh, they're not just from me, from the guys too, I'm telling you y/n, I’m sorry- we are all really sorry,” Gojo whispered, entire body turned towards you in case he'd be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your eyes. You were so close, yet so far away, and he had no one to blame but himself. 

“I don't care who they're from, that's-thats not the point, okay?” Your voice raised, tone laced with frustration and annoyance. How could you possibly get over him if he was just so damn persistent? Why did he have to try so fucking hard? “Just leave me alone-”

“I cant y/n, I cant. I- I tried, I've tried to respect your words and give you distance but I can't okay?” He knew he was being pathetic, but he just didn't have it in him to care anymore.

“I physically fucking hurt, and I know, It will never compare to how you feel- to what I did to you but fuck-”  his features were contorted into a pained look that you had never seen before, never wanted to see in the first place. 

You faced him, regret taking hold of every action and thought as you could practically feel the want to give in increase more and more. The look of distraught, the anguish, everything that should have never touched him completely coated him and you had to dig your fingers into your pants to keep from reaching out. You internally begged for him to stop, to just stop fucking speaking, to stop making you think and think and think. But when has Gojo ever stopped?? 

“I can't stop thinking about you, you're my first thought in the morning and last thought at n-night- I.. I cant function without you and I miss you so so much, just please- please you're all I think about and I mean it when i say it was real, it was all real- Fuck, it never and i mean it never felt like a joke or some bet, I knew I was fucked as soon as I started talking to you- I liked you and and I fucking love you- like theres, theres this physical constricting in my chest when I think about you, when I think about how much I love you and- and,” Gojos head dropped to his chest, voice cracking and fingers curling into the fabric near his chest as if he was experiencing that ache, spewing the words so hastily he could only pray he was making sense.

He inhaled a deep breath, some lousy attempt at collecting his thoughts, raising his head to find your eyes on him, wide and glossy, nostrils flaring from the intensity of your breathing. 

You were so beyond overwhelmed, unsure of what to do, what to say, if you should zone him out or listen, but it hurt and it hurt so much that you knew no amount of lying to yourself or to him would numb the agonizing ache in your chest.

“You don't have to love me. You don't have to forgive me, but please, just let me try. Ill spend the rest of my life making it up to you, but fuck Y/N, i have never felt this before. W-When I look at you- m-my brain just does this, this weird numbing thing like its just a buzz, l-like i cant think at all, I just- i just see you and,” he frustratingly ran his fingers through his wet strands, fingers pulling and tugging on the edge as anxiety and exasperation coursed through him.

“Fuck im just so in love with you,” his voice broke, pitch uneven and scratchy.

A tear streaked down his pale skin, and you sharply inhaled to hide your own. You could try to be strong, try to deny what you felt for him and pretend like you didn't need him, but you weren't exempt from the ache in your heart at his admission, couldn't just let his words roll off you like they didn't mean anything, when they meant everything, couldn't ignore the way he loved you when you loved him.

The entire situation was so fucked, such a dumb fucking cliche.

“I-I know my letter wasn't enough, that an explanation or guilt won't fix anything, that gifts don't mean anything” you stayed silent, didn't tell him you hadn't actually read his letter yet, that you couldn't. “but-but I just- I just need you- need to try to fix what I fucked up. You're so, so perfect,” he whispered the last sentence to himself, gaze dropping.

He was the one who did all of this, but you wouldn't be the only one to suffer.

You shakily breathed, praying your voice didn't come out as broken and fragile as you were, that he wouldn't be able to see your tell. So many things you wanted to say, wanted to ask. You couldn't open that door, desperately wishing you could find closure in disclosure.

“Thanks for the ride, gojo.” a faint whisper, the only response you gifted him. You slammed open the door, grabbing your bag and running out into the rain towards your apartment building, thankful that it was so loud it hid your cries and wails. You didn't turn around, knowing you'd only go back at the sight of him falling apart, knowing the exact feeling of something that was so in reach completely and helplessly fall through your hands. It was torturous watching what used to be your ray of sunshine completely lose its spark and turn into something so hurt and defeated. Two sides of the same coin. What perfect reflections of each other. 

The class was quiet when you arrived bright and early the next morning, murmurs and whispers of questions floating around students silently panicking as they anticipated the material on the exam. Sleep was futile, mind filled with endless thoughts of gojo, and when you finally drifted off into the lull between consciousness and sleep, your dreams taunted you of him. Showed you small glimpses of a hand held in yours, messy white hair splayed on your lap, a pretty smile that made your mind go dumb. You didn't need to see his face to know it was him.

When you woke, eyes wet and sadness heavy in your chest, you couldn't have cared less about your exam, only wanting it to be over so you could resume rotting in your heartbreak. 

But of course, Gojo being Gojo through and through, you found a coffee placed at your usual spot in lecture, “good luck, you're going to ace this!” and a heart once again written sloppily in his handwriting. Huffing, you discreetly scanned the room, finding his ruffled locks on the opposite side alone, looking equally as shitty and unwell. You rolled your eyes to yourself, blocking him out and eager to get the exam over with.

You half expected Gojo to storm after you once the exam was over, dismissing the small part of you that almost wished he had. No you didn't.

Slamming open your apartment door and throwing off your bag, the action happened before you could even second guess, fingers whipping out your phone to quickly unblock his contact telling yourself it was just to look, just to get a small peak.

You'll just block it after again, just one quick look wouldn't hurt right?

Your jaw dropped, hundreds of texts flooding your phone as you watched every single one pop up one after another after another- approximately over four weeks worth and Jesus, he was really not lying when he told you still texted your number, still spammed it. 

Texts from that night, good morning texts, ‘i love you’s,’ ‘im sorry’s,’ a photo of your digimon keychain on his back pack and then of a digimon shirt and poster in his room with the caption “I love digimon so much I love your keychain”, your sticky note on his wall mirror, a photo of the empty cookies “so fucking good, let the guys have only one except for the fuck face that tossed em”, a photo of the exact frat member that tossed them with evident bruising on his face, “I didn't do it fushiguro and kuna did swear- they loved the cookies btw”, photos of flowers that reminded him of you, just more and more texts spilling his guts, telling you he loved you.

Holy shit. 

You gritted your teeth. You should have never unblocked him, mind filled with so many thoughts and nothing at once you weren't sure if you were processing anything. You definitely weren't breathing.

Fuck it.

Phone carelessly tossed somewhere, you moved to tear open his letter, harshly biting your lip in anticipation, eyes widening at the multiple pages he had written and two smaller pieces of rectangular paper falling out that you paid no mind to yet. 

You scanned the letter first, eyes rapidly going through each line only managing to digest certain sentences.

-so embarrassingly insecure that i never had any real friends, people that only used me for my family's status or wealth or just to get something out of me ever since i was kid. I didn't think anybody would actually want anything to do with me unless i had something to give-

-got to college and it was the same. Felt like no liked me for me. Always felt like i was left out of a joke or just didn't understand, thought i was weird and just had really bad social cues or something like that. Joined the frat for some brotherly “love” and it only got worse from there. I hated it, but i had something along the lines of friends for once and i had never had that before and wow this is really embarrassing-

-they were all assholes and at first i was just playing along. It was fun to feel like I fit in. it was never anything bad, never hurt anyone until you, never made any sorts of bets about anything, i swear. I'm only mentioning this because I know you'd never want anyone to go through this. You're so selfless, so kind-

-frat president came up with the idea of the bet and i gave in and i don't say that placing the blame on him or on anyone else. It's 100% all my fault and I never should have accepted it. When he brought it up, almost the entire frat was in the room and they all looked at me like if i didn't agree id be the loser i used to be. There's nothing I wouldn't give to take this back. To be looked at like a loser or nobody again if it meant I could have you back. I didn't think, didn't know who you were yet, which is not an excuse at all. It just made it easier to say yes when i didn't know-

-kuna and fushiguro didn't give a fuck. Are they assholes? Absolutely. But at least they are to everybody. Geto was against it all but we didn't care enough clearly to stop, we just kept playing along with the pres just because we could. Just because he could. Honestly don't even know what the prize was, I just accepted it that day. I didn't think about it.-

-he wanted to see if i could get you in bed with me, being the campus fuckboy and all. I know there's no reason for you to believe me at all, no reason to take my word for it. But I never would have gone that far. You think I'm lying and you have every right to, but I never. Never would have done that to you. Im a disgusting idiot, but not that evil-

-started to like you. Started to fall in love with you. Frat president was weirdly on our asses about it (yeah weird, fushiguros, kuna, and geto too?? Me i get, but i think he knew i was insecure and wanted to fit in, knew i had actually started to get along with those few guys and wanted to fuck me over even more having us all wrapped up in it, and dumbly enough i played along- we all did) and everytime i looked a little too happy or giddy or genuine after being with you he’d remind me of the bet. Remind me it wasn't real. I know, I am the biggest pussy ever. What kind of guy takes shit from someone like that? Who even cares?-

-dates were real. You were real. To me. I could nerd out with you and you'd laugh, join in with me even on the dumb things I liked that you didn't know existed. Just listen to me and watch me like I deserved your attention, like I deserved you and how good you were. And then I'd go back to the house and I was furious. Too pussy to officially end the bet to his face but knew I'd only keep going back to you. I never would've stopped once it was technically over because you werent some fuck ass bet to me, you were everything. I'd be so mad and accidentally end up taking it  out on you, being rude and indifferent so that maybe you would get fed up with me and end whatever we had going on. That you realized I was never worth your time or good enough for you, but you never did. You kept looking at me like I meant something, kept giving me more chances than I ever deserved. And I took advantage of all of it. I wanted you so bad.-

-realized i turned into one of those assholes i always hated. Had no one to humble or put me in my place anymore and I hated what I saw in the mirror. Used to shit on people like me then i turned into one of the most vile people ever-

-but fuck i couldn't stay away from you. Told myself I'd end things with you just so that in some twisted way I could protect you from me, from the people I hung around. Anything but actually change huh?-

-they felt pretty shitty too so made them all write apology letters to you. I promised I wouldn't read them so if they're ass then I am really sorry about that. Told them to use their big boy brains and that maybe I'd let them try one of your cookies. I really did get them back-

-worst thing I've ever done in my life. Watching you look at me like that in the hall way gutted me and i stood there like some fucking cocky asshole but all i could think about was how were too good for me. Too kind, too genuine. Literally the personification of sunshine. I felt sick, thought it i was cold enough you might tell me to fuck off but you didn't. You never did and i hate myself-

-a brother threw them in the trash when i got back from class, i swear, all the guys saw, i swear. Said i was looking a little too happy, a little too old to be excited over the coolest fucking digimon keychain ive ever seen in my life. I was gonna grab them as soon as he left but then prep for the party started and this and that and i was gonna wait until after the party. I didn't care if there was junk all over it, I was gonna grab the keychain and the cookies (still in the container okay so it was fine, I'm not that gross and they looked amazing) and end the bet with him.-

-didn't even realize how much time had gone by. Every moment was so real and genuine with you all i wanted was you-

-that fucking night. I invited you of course I did and naturally, was shitting bricks. Prettiest girl I'd ever laid my eyes on was coming to our party and I was so excited. Didn't think of the bet, just wanted you there, wanted to see you. Frat pres kept handing me drinks, passing me blunts, and i didn't say no. just kept drinking and smoking and was so fucked up. Got in front of them and he started riling me up, started shit talking the gifts you got me and how funny the idea was. Everybody looked at me and like the desperate loser I am, started spewing shit, started spewing hate. Just wanted to make everybody laugh just to feel fucking better about myself for a split second. Just to feel like i fit right in with them-

-saw you. Saw how beautiful and out of this world you looked even while you cried. I am a coward. I'm pathetic. I knew i was fucking it up, but the moment i saw you. Fuck. I would do anything to take it back. To tell him to fuck off that i didn't care. To be a man and tell him i loved you, fuck his bet or whatever. That all of this was real. I know it doesn't matter. I know I deserve to feel this when I know it's nothing in comparison to what I did to you. I know i will never understand-

-want nothing to do with me. I completely get it. I'm not saying this so you take pity on me, believe me, but I know how cowardly I am. Know how I'm anything but a man. That i did something disgusting and horrible to the girl I love, the girl I was falling in love with. I hate that this is what it took for me to snap out of it. Came in after you left and absolutely trashed the place, kicked everyone out (may or may not be getting kicked out the frat next sem but i don't care), grabbed your gifts from the trash. Made the guys write those letters a couple days later after I went off on my friends (they went off on me too, don't you worry), and then the pres stilllll had some shit to say. Guys felt so bad they uh gave him some love taps-

-don't expect you to ever forgive me. Don't expect you to ever fall in love with me back. Just need you to know how perfect you are. How your kindness kept me going on the darkest of days, how you were literally a breath of fresh air that made me think that maybe things would be okay. You never hesitated to be there and every morning I woke up happy knowing I'd get to see you. I will be sorry for the rest of my life. Every day I wish I could take it back. None of it was worth it. I only want you. I only love you-

-had the best thing that's ever happened to me right in front of me. It felt like I had it all when I was with you. The prettiest girl I'd ever seen with a heart of gold liked me. Didn't want anything from me. And in return I betrayed your trust. Lied to your face. Not only royally fucked myself over but ruined the best part of me. Hate that i will be the reason for all your insecurities-

-mentioned the aquarium night event that had been sold out for a few months that you said would be a dream to go to. I got you two tickets (not for me don't worry) for the end of the month once finals are over since you said you'd be here over winter break. When you go, if, check out the biggest tank in the back with the whale shark. I know you'll look beautiful. Are beautiful. I love you.

The letter was tightly clutched in between your fingers, knuckles white from the grip, tear drops splattered over the sloppy pencil marks, smudges all over from where gojo had continuously erased and rewritten, erased and rewritten. tiny hiccups fell from your mouth.

You hated him you hated him you hated him.

You loved him you loved him you loved him.

Your breath hitched, momentarily discarding the letter to inspect the two fallen tickets. A special one night event gala with inclusive drinks and food, behind the scenes tour where guests could even pet certain animals. Not only had the tickets been sold out for months, but they were way beyond out of your budget. 

With trembling lips and shaky hands, you sobbed. 

Gojo quite literally spat out his drink when three days later a notification popped up. From you. In the midst of scrambling to properly hold his phone, he somehow managed to fling it, frantically tripping over his own feet, knocking over his drink and sending his desk chair tumbling.

Hi. Can we talk

He wasn't blocked anymore?? You texted him? You wanted to talk??

He tried to focus, tried to think of a response that wasn't so desperate or needy. He failed to do both.

Hi yes of course. im free now. Or whenever you are free of course, just let me know!

Your bubble popped up, his heart spasmed in his chest, breath heavy as he awaited your response. 

It went away and his shoulders dropped. Then it popped up and he sat up. Gone.

He groaned, tossing the device and covering his face with his palms. He fucked up again.

An hour later, there was a knock on the door down stairs, then voices mingling. Then-

“Gojo! Your girl is here!” It was Kuna’s voice.

gojo furrowed his eyebrows. His.. girl?

He stumbled up, sprinting down the stairs so fast he jumped down the last four, heart lodged in his throat as he eagerly popped up next to sukuna, eyes widening once they landed on you.

You.

In all your glory clad and comfy and so fucking cute in a swetashirt that was far too big - fuck was that his?- hair slightly messy but purposeful, lip caught in between your teeth. He froze, jaw dropped, eyes stuck on you like he'd never seen a woman in his life. Like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. His breath caught.

“Hi,” you spoke softly, cheeks warm and fingers fiddling with the hem of your- his hoodie.

He rubbed his eyes, unsure if he was dreaming or not. He thought of you so much that the idea that he was hallucinating you at this point was very plausible, that maybe you were a figment of his imagination-

Sukuna elbowed him, a grunt leaving gojos lips, murmuring “weirdo” before turning away. 

“H-Hi,” his voice cracked, clearing his throat before trying again. “I mean, Hey.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully. Playfully. 

She rolled her eyes at me playfully this time. She just-- she-

His mind was short circuiting. 

“This Friday is the aquarium night event. Pick me up at 8.”

And just like that you turned on your heel. Didn't wait for a response, an emotion, nothing. But he understood perfectly fine. This was his last shot.

He spun on his feet, unsure of whether or not he should run after you or if he just made you up. He yelled out to sukuna who only smirked.

“Was she real??”

Those three days passed agonizingly slowly, yet all too fast. Gojo anxiously stood outside your door, palms sweaty and hands tugging at the neck of his collar to breathe. The biggest bouquet of flowers at the store clutched in his grip with an unintentional deadly vice, his best tux ironed to obsessive perfection (admittedly the first time he's ever ironed, he didn't even own one, asking every guy in the frat until one of his brothers mom offered to lend him one).

He spoke out loud quietly to himself, hand hovering over the door in a closed fist working up the courage to knock. “You got this, don't fuck this up, don't fuck this up even more, don't-”

Right under his fist the door swung open, both yours and gojos eyes widening equally in surprise. His cheeks flushed, opening his mouth to speak but the words died down in his throat as his eyes scanned you over. Like a moth to a flame he couldn't stop looking, eyes leaving a wake of goosebumps on your flesh everywhere they traced. Your cheeks burned.

He wasnt breathing, wasnt blinking, wasnt thinking- mind doing that brrrr numbing noise when he would see you but fuck.

You were stunning. The prettiest fucking thing that had ever blessed his eyes. Standing before him, just as shy, just as taken aback. The floor length gown you opted a blessing and a curse, hugging you so perfectly that gojo concluded that it quite literally had to be made for you. You were taller in your heels, hair done perfectly, makeup gracing your features and only accentuating your natural beauty. Oh he was so royally, completely, entirely, fucked.

He was embarrassingly nervous to be standing before you, to stand by your side when you looked like that. Fuck you were so out of his league.

You cleared your throat and for the first time, he blinked, shaking his head to clear his thoughts- or more so lack of.

“You look… you look stunning,” he finally spoke, watching as your gaze dropped to the floor, the tiniest of smiles making his heart thump.

“Thank you. You look very nice too.”

He beamed, exhaling, reminding himself to breathe. He must've died. Must've died and he was at the gates of heaven and fuck he didn't care if he was about to get turned away, at least he got to see you standing right in front of him and hed be damned if he didn't treat it like the best gift he had ever gotten.

He snapped back into reality, far too enthusiastically thrusting out his arm holding the flowers.

“I-I got you flowers.” say something else you idiot. “The, the prettiest ones in the store f-for the prettiest girl.” oh my god not that. 

Gojo wanted to cringe, physically recoil at how fucking dumb he sounded.

You let out a small breathy laugh- he missed that sound so much- gently taking them from his grasp to put them in another vase, not paying attention to the way your fingers accidentally brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity up his arms and through his body like a machine getting a much needed reboot. He was pathetic, so so pathetic and it was his greatest honor.

You came back, the pink red blush softly painted on your cheeks made him want to bite his fist and he wasnt sure if it was cuteness aggression or the fact you just looked so fucking edible.

“Ready.”

The two of you slowly strolled through the aquarium, arm laced through his while you admired the animals and he admired you. It was laughable how obvious he was, eyes unable to stray. Hundreds of couples flowed and ebbed around you, an overwhelming amount of waiters offering food and more food and champagne every thirty seconds. The tension was painful, you and gojo downing two flutes each as soon as entering the event. 

Small talk at first was difficult, Gojo rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment when he asked if he mentioned how beautiful you looked for the umpteenth time that night. You smiled, blushed, but the tiny inklings of doubt and fear circulated in your head, questioning if he really meant it this time.

You both lingered around tanks, drinking more and more flutes of champagne, becoming more and more relaxed as the night continued. Jokes started flowing easier, hearts forming in gojos eyes when you threw your head back to laugh when he accidentally knocked over an entire serving platter from a waiter's hand. 

This was the iconic fratboy?? Making a fool of himself?

He would've cringed, scowled at himself if it weren't for the way you looked, finally allowing your guard to loosen and the champagne to take hold, poking fun at him and asking if this was his first time out in public. He stupidly grinned, teeth and all, cheeks burning pink.

The night only got better from there. Gojo gleamed as a worker introduced you to penguins, whipping out his phone to take photos of you smiling and laughing. Then you were petting a sting ray- a photo of you quietly squeaking when you touched the slimy creature. Later on a photo of you gasping as you pet a dolphin, stars in your eyes and amazement unmasked. You with a sea otter “awwing,” you backing away from gators, you pointing at the big bellied sea lions, you-

“Thank you Gojo. For the tickets, I- I really don't know how you got them, and the price, I don't know what to say.” 

The tank was cold beneath your touch, finger feathers lightly tracing the glass that housed colorful jelly fish. The room was dark, save for the glow of the bright sea creatures that reflected in your eyes. You couldn't look away from them. Gojo couldn't look away from you.

The response was immediate, without a doubt. “Don't say thank you. I-..” he swallowed. He didn't know what else to say, knowing sorry would never be enough.

“Sukuna said he was sorry when I went by. Said what he did was pussy shit. When I agreed and said I didn't forgive him, he smirked and said good.” You stayed facing the tank, voice tight and blunt, but not unkind. Purely factual.

Gojo slumped, hands shoving into his pockets, preparing himself for you to end everything for once and for all. His saliva was thick, relaxed state leaving him and anxiousness creeping in. He stupidly hoped for something more, knowing he didn't deserve it from the start. But knowing never made handling the truth any easier.

Silence hung heavy in the air. 

Gojo cleared his throat, quiet and nervous. He chewed on his bottom lip, fingers playing with a loose thread in his pocket. “I know you're sick of me saying it. But i am so sorry y/n. I wish I could take it back, but I know I can't." He itched for another glass of champagne. “Im just,” gojo huffed an airy laugh that was more so a sigh of disbelief. “Just so thankful, that you- that you let me come with you tonight. A-and see you.”

A faint hum was your only response.

“C-can i show you something?” he whispered.

You turned, hair framing your face perfectly from where your hands had run through it throughout the night, eyes shiny but bright, and gojo could feel his heart stop, or maybe it was just beating so fast that there was no separation of a beat. “Okay.” 

Before he could overthink it and more than ready to accept the sting of rejection, he quickly but hesitantly brought his hand towards yours, lacing his large one in yours. Tears almost welled in his eyes when you didn't pull away. “Come on.”

“Holy shit,” the words came out unintentionally, eyes wide in awe and jaw slack once your eyes landed on the aquarium's new massive whale shark as it freely swam inside the gigantic tank, other fishes and creatures accompanying it in its rounds. 

Gojos palm was embarrassingly sweaty in yours and he felt unsteady on his legs as if he was standing on unsolid ground. Maybe this was stupid, so stupid and you'd hate it. He was starting to regret it.

A worker near the tank spoke into a mic, excited and grinning big. “-Our newest edition! Everybody meet y/n the whale shark!” 

You gasped in equal joy and shock, a genuine smile appearing on your face for what felt like, no it quite literally was, the first time in over a month. You spoke aloud, maybe to yourself, maybe to gojo.

“Hah! That is so funny that they named it that- what are the odds??” 

As soon as the words left your mouth, your eyebrows were already furrowing, body already turning to gojo who looked ghastly and sick on his feet, hand rubbing the back of his neck and skin flushed the brightest you'd ever seen it. He had mentioned wanting you to check it out in the letter, wanted to show you now, looked so nervous… why would he be so..?

“Gojo?” 

He didn't look at you, mouth straight and eyes forward. He hummed, but the pitch was too high, too anxious as if he was awaiting some sort of reaction. How would that even work…?

“Gojo…” His eyes scanned the room, fluttered left and right awkwardly, anywhere but you. Your heart stopped, hairs standing on the back of your neck, of your arms, mouth suddenly dry as if you hadn't been drinking the entire night.

“Gojo you didn't…” and he was facing you suddenly, eyes wild, tugging you closer and grabbing both of your hands to hold in his, thumbs swiping back and forth not to soothe you but an anxious tick to soothe himself. 

“Fuck, I know it was dumb wasnt it? God- I knew it was stupid, b-but I wasn't thinking, or I was, and I just thought, just thought-” You cut him off, pieces fully falling into place and jaw dropping in unadulterated shock.

“You named a whale shark after me???”

He let go of your hands to pace, fingers curling into tight fists. “Fuck I know, why would I do that? I thought maybe a star named after you would be cool? But-but I just- you know, y-you love the aquarium and I had been researching and saw they were rescuing a whale shark that didn't have a name yet- so i emailed and called and came in and donated, and- and, okay basically maybe begged, but hey, at least I get a plaque now right? Well you get a plaque, I put the donation in your name-”

Your jaw was on the floor, watching the most nonchalant notorious cool fratboy who was known for just that be anything but, frantically pace and throw his hands all over the place as he rambled on and on and on about how he named an entire whale shark after you.

You blinked hard, again and again, wondering when you'd wake up, wondering when gojo would snap his fingers in front of your face and tell you you were just day dreaming. You couldn't believe what you were hearing.

“You named a whale shark after me…”

At once he stopped, turning to you completely exasperated and arms finally falling by his side in defeat as if you'd hate the idea and chew him out for it, as if you could ever hate the idea. He named a fucking whale shark after you. 

“Yes.”

Immediately, like all things gojo seemed to be best at making you do, your eyes filled to the brim with tears. His hands found your cheeks, thumbs moving to swipe under your waterline as he panicked. “No, no, no, wait- don't cry, that bad huh? Fuck, it was supposed to make you happy-”

Your fingers tightly gripped his wrists, biting your lip to stifle and quiet your cries thankful the worker and surrounding couples had moved along. “I… I am, that does make me happy.” 

Like a weight that had been lifted from his chest for the first time in weeks, Gojo physically relaxed, shoulders slumping in relief. He gently pulled the two of you closer to the tank, eyes solely interested in you as if there wasn't a gigantic whale shark swimming right next to him, as if you were the only thing worth watching, as if he didn't want to blink in case he might miss something.

You sniffled, small laugh hiccuping out of you. “That is s-so silly..” he was nodding along with your words, palms resuming their once rightful place on your cheeks and now the only thing running through his mind was that if he was ever so lucky to be gifted another chance that he would never take it for granted ever again in his life, never take you for granted.

“I am so in love with you Y/n, you have no idea.” 

His mouth frowned at the slightest flash of sadness in your eyes, corners crinkling as more tears silently streamed down your cheeks. “Ill keep showing you I'm sorry for as long as you let me and god im fucking sorry. You are the best thing thats happened to me and i know none of its enough, none of it compares to how i hurt and destroyed your trust in me, b-but fuck I love you,” he spoke softly, yet urgent and severe and he hated the inkling of hope that sprinkled in his chest, the fear and pain that came along with thinking he might not be so hopeless after all. It only made it worse.

“I..” his heart seized in his chest as he waited for you to finish. “I don't forgive you gojo.” and he felt his heart crack, felt everything in him completely ache and throb and the tightness of his throat burned so painfully he wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold back the sob that threatened to leave him. He licked his lips, nodding his head to your response and dropping his hands, tears readying to leave his own. The worst of it all was understanding, was agreeing with your decision.

“Y-yeah, yeah-” It’s all he could whisper, all he could muster. But then a hand reached out for his own, fingers lacing through his once more. He wanted to yank it out, not out of spite, not to be rude, but he was on the cusp of shattering. Didn't want you to see him wail like a toddler in the aquarium, figured you weren't vengeful enough to want to watch it though you had every right to be. 

‘B-but... that doesnt mean that one day I wont…I just- I need time, but I think, maybe… I'd be willing to try…” you breathed, gaze flickering back to him, to the floor, to the whale shark he fucking named after you, back to bright blue eyes that looked at you as if you were the air he breathed, the oxygen in his lungs. 

A tear dropped down his cheek and he felt his body restart. Felt every function in his body like a car being hot wired and suddenly he was working all over again, electricity shooting through every single muscle, tendon, organ. 

A squeal left your lips, strong arms suddenly wrapped fully around your middle as you were snatched up and spun around, hands braced against his shoulder as broken fits of laughter flew out of you. 

He was in disbelief, he was in awe, he was dreaming, he was everything you weren't and you were everything he wasn't and he was excited, so hopeful, peppering your cheeks and face with kisses as if he just won the lottery- no, no this was better, this was so much better.

“Satoru, stop!” but you were giggling, you were giggling and gently pushing him back, but at the first syllable of his name that you hadn't said in so long, he just couldn't find it in himself to physically peel himself away. You were everything and more and satoru gojo was the greediest  man alive. 

You could hear the smile on his face. The intensity at which he spoke, the genuineness in his words and actions.

“Fuck- I love you I love you I love you, you wont regret this, youre gonna be my wife and ill make it up to you every single day from now on, thank you thank you-” the words slightly muffled as he continued planting delicate kisses over your face. 

You wouldn't kiss him just yet, despite wanting nothing more than to feel his soft ones against yours.

Baby steps.

You laughed, shy but not fearful, eyebrows shooting up your forehead at his admission and eagerness. “Lets start with one day at a time, yeah?”

Gojo finally pulled back, palms finding their now rightful place on your warmed cheeks, tucking the fallen hair behind your ears. He bit his lip, grinning so wide his face hurt. 

“Yeah. Yeah I think I can do that.”

a/n: some of the times are screwed since i only discovered how to change them later on.. yes a little shirabu obsessed rn oopsie daisy

tag: @akaashiit, @an1ki3gai, @blythmourning, @immortalblazethief, @kagstobioisthelightofmylife, @qrxswan, @wave2cal, @velvetaya, @oceanaesthete, @tdntu0, @kaykayo8, @n0vawrit3s, @haniipie, @skz143nstuff, @lsirria, @bakugosgrenade, @bookworm-center, @levisotakugf, @wellitseugi, @badtzmai, @returntothefae, @noyamlv, @charukii, @amisuh, @z9mbo, @s1ckntw1st3d, @imagoodwriter, @jinshigooner, @venusdreamr, @carlitapp, @st3rdust7, @cwinxclub

The topic dies there after Kuroo lets out another cackle. Lunch comes speeding to an end with vague plans thrown out for the next time the three of you would be able to meet up.

“It was nice seeing you guys!” Kuroo waves as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “See you next week…?”

“We’ll see!” you barely commit, waving right back at him.

Kenma doesn’t look up from his phone or say any final goodbyes. “You remember that game you asked about a couple days ago?” he asks quietly instead. He glances up at you as you both begin walking. Only when you nod does Kenma continue. “I bought it. You could come over and play it if you like. I already beat the game in one of the slots.”

“Of course you did,” you sigh in amusement. “But yeah, I can come over.”

For the rest of the walk to his place (which was only about five minutes), you rambled to him about whatever. Your only signs that he was paying the slightest attention to you were the occasional hums.

When you’d finally arrived at his place, it took approximately five minutes for Kenma to set up his computer and gaming chair for you. It took about an hour for you to get bored of the game.

“Kenma,” you murmured. He sat on the couch across the room, Nintendo Switch in hand. At his name, he looked up. “I’m bored…”

The man let out a minuscule sigh. “I’m supposed to stream in ten minutes anyways,” Kenma informed her, getting up from his spot and stretching. “You can browse my switch or look through my game cartridges while I stream. Unless you wanna do something else, but I don’t have much to do at my house, so good luck with that.”

“Are you telling me to leave?” you asked in mock-offense.

Kenma gave you a flat look. He walked up to where you were perched on his gaming chair, looking down at your grinning self with zero amusement. “Move,” he murmured. To which you did— not because he demanded it but because his couch was more comfortable. The man started clicking things, setting up his stream with a practiced ease. “If I wanted you gone, you’d be well aware.”

“Aww, you care about me!”

Kenma rolled his eyes. “Don’t go making a ruckus on my stream. You can play on my Switch.”

You said nothing more, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence. He streamed, you destroyed his Animal Crossing island. It was peaceful.

Kenma cursed quietly as he died to a hidden sniper. He gave his camera a flat look, to which his comments immediately flooded to mock his loss. The man looked through the comments, making sly remarks at some of the trolling jokes. He mindlessly answered questions and engaged until one particular comment caught his eye.

jpxfrd67: i just know he eats when he’s pissed and he’s def good at it

Immediately, he picked up on the innuendo. His eyes narrowed as the comment got buried in his chat. Kenma had no doubt his mods were already working to ban the person, but he couldn’t get the claim out of his mind. Was he a good eater? He’d never really tried it. Because of this, he went silent, no longer engaging with his viewers. They got concerned. It was only when a donation came through asking what was wrong that Kenma finally broke out of his trance.

The man sighed. “I’m gonna end stream early tonight. I’m not feeling well,” he said in a half truth. His mind wasn’t fully in it anymore, so surely that counted as not feeling well.

The comments immediately flooded with well wishes and concern. He paid them little mind as he started to sign off, promising with a noncommittal tone that he may stream again tomorrow. Then he ended the live.

For a few moments, he stared ahead of himself, contemplating what he was about to do. When he decided this was exactly what he wanted at his core, Kenma turned off his PC and spun around in his chair. “Remember the conversation we were having with Kuro earlier?” Kenma asked out of the blue. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you didn’t look up as you switched games on his Switch. “The one about you never having an orgasm.”

You set the Switch to the side, bringing your hands up to cover the embarrassment on your face. “Kenma, I didn’t think you cared about that convo.”

“I’m just curious,” he shrugged. “Have you ever tried using toys to get yourself off?”

Honestly, you didn’t want to pick the conversation back up with him. It was the sort of thing you mentioned once and never again. But the way Kenma seemed so dead set on getting his questions answered on this… you couldn’t deny him. It was rare that Kenma showed a genuine interest in something outside of his world of screens. “I’ve tried it all: vibrators, dildos,” you admitted reluctantly. “It’s just never worked.”

Kenma hummed, taking in the answer. “What about being eaten out? Ever tried that?”

“What’s bringing this back up all of a sudden? Why do you even care?” You sighed when Kenma just rose his brow at his unanswered question. “No, I’ve never done that— or I guess that’s never happened to me.”

The man nodded. He stood up from his gaming chair, approaching you with menacingly slow strides. Kenma stopped when he was in front of you, getting down on his knees and looking up at you with intense eyes. “Wanna try it out?” he asked, hands coming up to rest on your legs.

“What?”

“I’ll try to make you orgasm. Maybe all you’ve needed was someone to get on their knees for you.”

Your eyes widened at his boldness. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Dead serious,” he affirmed. Kenma tilted his head to the side, loose hairs that escaped from his bun falling into his face. “Think of it like a game: stage one is making you aroused, stage two is getting you to moan, and the boss fight is making you orgasm. I like beating games. I think I can do this.”

“I wasn’t expecting to do anything though, so I’m not shaved down there.”

“Don’t care,” for the first time since he suggests this, Kenma looked a little flustered. A pale pink overtook his cheeks. “I like a little hair anyways.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “You really want to do this?”

He nodded. Then he paused, “Only if you want it.”

You thought for a moment about what to do. Saying yes to him would alter your perception of him forever. Worst case scenario, he fails to make you orgasm and your friendship becomes weird. Then you remembered who you were dealing with. Kenma lived his entire life like a video game. When he set his mind on completing something— especially if he’s broken it down into different levels or stages— he was committed to it.

Kenma didn’t receive a verbal response. Instead, you grabbed his hands resting on your thighs and guided them up to the waistband of your pants. Taking your nonverbal cue for what it was, Kenma easily unbuttoned and unzipped your pants. You helped him take them off, leaving you in nothing but your lace panties. He brought his hand up, using one finger to slide them to the side, exposing you completely.

The man stilled for a moment, eyes locked onto your intimate area. A determined look climbed into them as he inched forward, ready to absolutely devour you. It was only when he was mere centimeters away and you could feel the heat of his breath that you put your hand on his forehead and gently pushed back.

“Cold feet?”

Yes. You shook your head. “What about your couch?” you asked, trying to give him any reason to back out of this.

Kenma rolled his eyes, “What about it?” He grabs his hair and yanks out his loose bun, pulling it back up into a much tighter one so the hair is completely out of his face.

“What if I make a mess on it?”

“I have money for a new one,” he replied smoothly. His arms wrapped around your legs, tugging you forward so you were at the edge of the couch, back to being so close you could feel his shallow breathing. You gasp. “Don’t really like this couch anyways. Besides, if you do ruin it, just means I’m playing the game right.”

You don’t reply. Kenma turns his eyes up to your face, keeping them glued to it as he leans forward. They scan your face for any more signs of hesitance. There’s none. His nose presses gently against your clit, giving you one final chance to say something or push him away. One final chance to back out.

Nothing happens. You don’t stop him. He licks a long stripe up your pussy.

Another gasp rips out of you. Not out of fear or discomfort. Kenma watched the way your mouth falls open and stays there. He knows you liked that. He does it again and again until your gasps turn into silent mews of pleasure. You were enjoying this.

Stage one: complete.

Kenma’s eyes close as he buries himself further into you. He sucks gently at your clit as one of his arms undoes itself from being wrapped around your leg. He replaces his mouth with his hand, rubbing you with his fingers while he prods his tongue against your hole.

Your hands shoot to the back of his head at the sensation. This is entirely unexplored sexual territory for you. Far from a virgin but never having an orgasm. Your mind comes quickly to the realization that you’ve never been so aroused before and that you may actually cum from this. Your first orgasm is going to be at the hands of your childhood friend, Kenma.

The same Kenma who didn’t start dating until after graduating high school. Who was twenty-one the first time he had sex and had told you and Kuroo with slight shame when he realized how late to the party he was. Who suggested eating you out like it was a game to him. The same Kenma who was currently eating you out like he’s done it to a million other women (even though this is his first time making the attempt— he’s just really good at responding to your sexual cues).

“Kenma,” you sigh, head falling against the back of his couch in pure bliss. Your hands find the back of his head, fingers lacing themselves i’m his hair. You push him closer.

This was fine. He was just going to do this one thing, make you orgasm for the first time, and you’d both walk away like nothing happened. Totally normal thing for friends to do… right?

He switched his hand and his tongue, oblivious to the mental war in your head right now. One of his fingers prods at your hole, dripping from a mixture of your own arousal and his spit. He coats his finger in it. Then with the smallest warning, Kenma slides his middle finger into you.

“Oh my— Kenma!” you moan at the feeling.

Stage two: complete.

His name begins to fall from your lips like a mantra. You glance down at him. He looks so into it— into you. It turns you on more.

For a moment, you forget Kenma has a sixth sense for knowing when someone’s watching him. It startles you when he peels his eyes open, his intense, golden ones meeting yours. He doesn’t break the eye contact. Instead, he removes his other hand from around your leg and finds one of your hands holding the back of his head. He gently removes it, intertwining your fingers with his.

That’s your only warning before he adds another finger. Another moan, louder this time. Your back arches, pressing yourself further into him on accident. His eyes are still connected with yours. Kenma liked the view. He takes a mental screenshot, as if he’s actually playing a game and just found a treasure so rare he never wants to forget the moment he discovered it.

Kenma flattens his tongue on your clit, pressing it harder against you. The fingers in his hair grip harder. He groans into you. You’ve never felt like this before. It’s a feeling you instantly promise yourself to trade anything for to feel it again.

Then, very suddenly, something in you shifts. The overwhelming feeling of having to pee hits you like a truck. “Kenma,” you try to warn, but it comes out more like a moan than a cautionary tale. You try to pull him away from your cunt. “Kenma, I feel like— shit— like I have to pee,” you complain. Again, you try to pull him away.

But Kenma doesn’t budge. No, instead, he pushes himself further into you, picking up the pace of his fingers. The feeling of needing to pee doesn’t go away; it intensifies. You beg him to stop, trying to save yourself from the embarrassment and him from the disgusting feat. He still doesn’t listen.

“Kenmakenmakenma,” you repeat. The hand intertwined with his tightens.

You can’t hold it back anymore. A cry leaves your lips as you let go. It feels like a weight is lifted off your shoulder. Like whatever just happened removed all the stress and tight muscles from your body in one go. If cloud nine was a place, you just established a residency there.

You’re panting, staring at the ceiling when the mortification hits you. You just peed on Kenma.

“I’m so sorry!”

The man pulls away from your pussy like he’s just been kicked out of his own house, like he doesn’t actually want to. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Sorry for what?” he asks. There’s a victorious glint in his eyes as he wipes away the liquid dripping down his chin with the back of his hand.

“I just peed on you…” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact entirely. Surely he was regretting his decision to eat you out.

An amused look replaces his confusion. He covers his mouth to hide his laughter. Your eyes snap down to him when you catch him chuckle. Kenma just grins. “You didn’t pee on me,” Kenma tells you. He looks down at your cunt, pulsing and still dripping wet. “I just made you squirt.”

Boss fight: complete.

“Huh?” Now it’s your turn to be confused. “That wasn’t me squirting. I peed on you! I felt it!”

Kenma shook his head. “Peeing and squirting use similar body parts,” he tells you. “Squirting is just involuntary as opposed to you being able to choose when to pee. They practically feel the same… or so I’ve been told.” He stands up for the first time since he knelt down in front of you. His hand reaches up to wipe the sweat from your forehead. “In other words, you just had your first orgasm. Congratulations.”

You look up at him, panting. “How’d you do that?” you asked. Kenma removes his hand from your face. You almost sigh at the loss of contact.

He shrugs, “Magic touch.”

You roll your eyes. Kenma only grins again before walking out the room. He comes back a minute later with a towel and a bottle of water. He offers you both. After you’ve cleaned yourself off and guzzled down half the water, Kenma sits down next to you. His arms stretches across the back of the couch, pulling you into his side. You lean into him.

“Looks like Kuro isn’t the only one who can coax an orgasm out of a woman,” Kenma comments casually. He restrains his smile when you slap his chest.

You’re unsure of where this leaves your friendship. You don’t bring it up, but if he ever offered to do something like that for you again, you promise yourself to jump on the opportunity. This revelation has you wondering how your feelings about Kenma have changed— if they’ve changed at all.

Kenma, oblivious to your mental battle, gently rubs your arm. While you’re not sure what the future holds, you’re content with the moment. Right now, you’ll let him hold you. The future can wait.

you flipped a page in your notebook and underlined something that absolutely did not need underlining, just to have somewhere to put your hands.

“did you,” he started, sitting up straighter now, all his earlier ease draining out of him, “did you seriously just gojo me?”

“can we please get back to the agenda,” you said, addressing the room in general rather than him specifically.

nanami cleared his throat and tried to steer things back on track. “as i was saying, the eastern district has seen an uptick in curse activity over the past—”

“she gojo’d me,” satoru interrupted, loud enough that the whole table heard it, staring at you with the wounded expression of a man who had just watched his house burn down in front of him. “in front of everyone. she used my last name like i’m a substitute teacher.”

you still didn’t look at him. you clicked your pen closed, then open again, then closed, a habit you knew drove him up the wall, and said nothing at all.

“focus, gojo,” you said again, watching the way his whole soul seemed to leave his body when you said it a second time was a little more satisfying than you’d expected.

“okay. okay, everybody hold on,” satoru said, raising both hands like he was trying to talk down an actual hostage situation. “nobody move, nobody speak, something has gone horribly wrong here. she just used my government name. in public. on purpose.”

“that is your name,” nanami pointed out, deadpan, not even looking up from his own notes.

“not to her it isn’t! not in four years has she ever once called me gojo, and now suddenly, out of nowhere, in the middle of a staff meeting, she’s talking to me like i’m a stranger she met at the post office—” he turned to you again, voice climbing with real panic now. “okay, you know what, meeting’s over, everyone go home, thank you for coming, we’ll reschedule—”

“the meeting,” yaga said flatly, unimpressed, “is not over.”

“it is for me!” satoru stood so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, then leaned across the table toward you, blindfold slipping further down his forehead, genuine desperation creeping into his voice. “what did i do. just tell me what i did and i’ll fix it. is this about the mission partner thing? it’s the mission partner thing, isn’t it. i can undo it. i can un-fix the fixing. i can grovel right here in front of everyone if that’s what this requires—”

you finally looked up to deliver the final blow with the sweetest, most devastating calm you could manage:

“i’m not sure what you mean, gojo. we’re in the middle of a meeting.”

that was the moment the room completely lost it. shoko was laughing so hard into her coffee cup that she had to set it down entirely, wiping at her eyes. nanami pressed a hand over his face like he was praying for the strength to survive this job for one more day. even yaga, who never smiled during meetings on principle, was clearly biting back one now, badly.

“that’s it,” satoru said, dropping back into his chair. “fine. that’s fine. be like that. see if i care. i am literally the strongest sorcerer in the world and i am being disrespected in my own place of employment, in front of my own coworkers, by my own—” he lowered his voice for the last part, leaning toward you like it was a secret, “—girlfriend, who apparently doesn’t remember that we live together and that i know exactly what cereal she eats and exactly what she looks like without—”

“gojo,” nanami cut in, exhausted, “please let the meeting continue.”

“see! even he can feel that something is deeply wrong here! the temperature in this room actually dropped! shoko, did the temperature just drop or was that just me—”

you allowed yourself the smallest, most private smile, tucked safely behind the cover of your notebook, as the strongest sorcerer alive continued to unravel in real time over exactly one syllable of his own last name, in front of the entire senior staff of jujutsu high, on a random tuesday morning.

by the time you got home that evening, satoru had clearly spent the whole day rehearsing something, because the second you walked through the door he was already there, hovering, almost vibrating with nervous energy like a dog that knows it did something wrong but isn’t sure what.

“okay so,” he said, following you into the kitchen, “i’ve been thinking about this literally all day, and i want to formally apologize, on the record, for the mission partner thing, and also i want to say, for the record, that what you did today was actually kind of terrifying and i need you to never do it again.”

“do what,” you said, setting your bag down like you had no idea what he could possibly mean, even though you absolutely did.

“you know what,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist from behind before you could even take your jacket off, chin dropping onto your shoulder. “the gojo thing. please. i’m begging you. never again.”

“it’s your name,” you said, echoing nanami from earlier, and you felt him groan directly into your shoulder.

“it is not my name when you say it like that,” he mumbled. “when you say it like that it sounds like you’re breaking up with me in front of witnesses. i had to sit there for an entire meeting wondering if this was it, if this was the day my girlfriend decided she’d had enough of me and was breaking the news.”

you turned around in his arms, biting back a laugh, and he immediately seized the opportunity to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he was bracing for more punishment.

“so you admit you deserved it,” you said.

“i admit nothing,” he said, “except that i am deeply, deeply sorry, and that i will never again swap your mission partner without telling you first, and that if you ever call me gojo again in public i will actually die.”

“say please.”

“please,” he said immediately, no hesitation at all, pulling you in tighter like he was worried you might change your mind and use his last name right there in the kitchen just to torture him further. “please, please, i’ll do anything, i’ll even do paperwork, just—just be normal about it. call me anything else. call me an idiot, call me insufferable, i don’t care, just not that.”

“fine,” you said, finally letting the smile show. “satoru.”

the relief on his face was almost embarrassing, the way his whole body seemed to unclench at once, like you’d just lifted some enormous curse off him.

“thank you,” he said, dramatic as ever, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your mouth. “never again. i mean it. that was the scariest six words of my entire life and i’ve fought curses that wanted to eat my ass.”

“it was one word,” you pointed out.

“it felt like six,” he said, and pulled you into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the breath out of you, laughing into your hair, all traces of this morning’s fight forgiven, or at least thoroughly overridden by how badly he never wanted to hear his own last name from you again.

“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.

Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.

One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.

But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.

You believed it all.

After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.

Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.

Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!

Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!

“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”

He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.

He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?

But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.

You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.

He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.

You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.

“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.

His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.

He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?

You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.

“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.

The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.

Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.

A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.

“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.

“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”

“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”

You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.

Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.

“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.

He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.

“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.

The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.

“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-

“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.

“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.

His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.

“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.

Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.

The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.

The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.

The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!

Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.

Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.

Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.

You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.

You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.

Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.

You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.

A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.

He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.

Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.

“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.

His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.

You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.

“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”

You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.

The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.

Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.

You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.

Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.

Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.

Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.

Who would willingly want to be with you?

Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.

Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.

Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.

He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.

He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.

Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.

“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”

Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.

If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.

“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.

You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.

“I thought you liked digimon??”

He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.

“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”

He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.

You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”

Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.

“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.

He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest

“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”

A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.

“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.

You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.

“Please.”

Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.

You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.

“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”

Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.

“What did I ever do to you?”

The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.

Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.

He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.

“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.

Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.

A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.

“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”

You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”

You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.

Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.

“I never want to see you again.”

His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.

He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.

“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.

For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.

“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.

He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.

“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.

Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.

He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.