It had been months now since Geto had gone missing, and though he tried his hardest to pretend like he was fine, you could tell it was getting to Gojo. His smile seemed more strained than anything, and he didn’t leave his room as much.

You, among many others were quietly concerned for him. So you visited him one night to check up on him. You figured you out of anybody had the greatest chance of getting him to open up.

Somehow your attempt at conversation had escalated into a back and forth of hurtful comments, each one more venomous than the last. The one that particularly stung the most was this

“God, you don’t get it do you?! You think you’ve got every detail about me all figured out just because you think you understand me. Well you don’t, and it’s pathetic watching you pretend you know a single thing about how i feel!” Gojo spat out angrily.

It was too late for him to take it back when he saw the hurt written on your face. He always did know how to hit you where it hurt…