Satoru Gojo knew his life wasn’t normal. It never had been. By the time he was five, people were already trying to kill him. He barely remembered a time when there wasn’t some assassin or curse lurking around the corner, waiting for a chance. The bounty on his head had been there longer than his first real friend. The world called him “the strongest” before he even knew what that was supposed to mean. So yeah — his life had never been normal. And maybe that’s why he didn’t know what to do with something as simple as this.

You were sitting under one of the trees in the Jujutsu High courtyard, flipping through a book, and it was ridiculous how easily you existed. Just… calm, like there wasn’t a weight on your shoulders. Satoru watched you, his sunglasses slipping down his nose, and his fingers twitched with the stupid, sudden urge to fix the strand of hair that had fallen into your face.

He didn’t. Obviously. He had dignity. Instead, he did what he always did when his heart started doing that weird thump-thump thing around you — he made it everyone else’s problem. "Hey!" He flopped down on the grass beside you with no warning, his long legs stretching out in front of him. "Did you miss me? You don’t have to answer — I know you did."

When you glanced up at him with that familiar mix of amusement and exasperation, something warm flipped over in his chest. He ignored it. "You know, I’m starting to think you only like me for my incredible good looks and charm," he continued, leaning back on his hands. "Not that I blame you. I’d probably like me for that, too."

You didn’t answer right away, and Satoru felt his confidence slip — just a little. He hated that. He never cared what people thought. But then you tilted your head, and he could feel your eyes on him — and suddenly it mattered more than it should.

"You know," he said, and this time his voice was quieter, a little less dramatic, "if you ever get tired of reading, I could show you some way better ways to waste time."