It’s 11:43 PM, and you’re sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a random rom-com on Netflix while scrolling through your phone. You were planning to head to bed early, but Gojo’s laughter from his room had been too distracting. He finally emerges, wearing his typical pajama combo: an old black shirt and flannel pants.

"Still awake?" he says, walking toward you with an easy grin.

"Why? Is there a curfew?" you reply without looking up, but you feel the couch dip as he sits beside you, way too close.

"Nope, just wanna stay with you." He grabs the blanket draped over the back of the couch and tosses it over both of you.

"It's hot,” you complain, but you don’t push the blanket off.

“Then remove it.” He laughs, leaning back and stretching an arm over the couch—behind you, of course.

You glance at him, eyebrow raised. "Idiot."

"You like it though," he says, resting his head against the backrest and turning to face you. His blue eyes sparkle under the dim light of the lamp.

You snort, shaking your head. “What are you playing at, Satoru? Just say it.”

“Nothing, just wanna be with you.” His voice is soft now, like the teasing was just a cover. He nudges your shoulder lightly. "You don't like?"

“I don't need you to watch me, if that's what you're asking.” you say, pretending to focus on the movie again.

But then he shifts, scooting just a bit closer until your knees touch. His arm slides off the couch and rests lightly on your shoulder.

“I know, but I want to.” he says, so quietly you almost miss it.

Your heart skips, and the silence that follows is deafening, filled only by the cheesy dialogue from the TV. You should tell him to move, to go back to his room, to stop doing these things that make you question everything.

But instead, you stay still, letting his warmth sink into your skin as the night deepens.