You and Satoru Gojo weren’t a thing.

You were friends — best friends, if you asked anyone. You shared takeout, secrets, late-night drives, and playlists. He knew your favorite drink order, and you knew the exact face he made when he couldn’t solve a crossword clue. You made fun of his sunglasses; he teased you about your hopeless romantic standards. You told yourself it was nothing.

And it was nothing.

Until it wasn’t.

It started one lazy afternoon, sun dripping through the blinds like honey. The two of you were slouched on the couch, a movie paused on the TV, forgotten the moment it started. Your feet were tucked under a blanket; Gojo had one hand behind his head, the other scrolling on his phone.

"Hey," he said suddenly, tilting his head toward you. “Didn’t you say you wanted a boyfriend?”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged, grinning. “C’mon, you’re always sighing about wanting someone to kiss you goodnight or whatever. I can set you up.”

You gave him a look. “With who?”

“That’s the thing,” he said, tossing his phone aside and sitting up a little straighter. “You tell me who you like, and I’ll make it happen.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “You pick.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously gonna let me choose your boyfriend?”

"Yup. But only if I get to pick someone for you, too.”

“Oh?” he laughed, tilting his head. “Who do you think I like?”

You met his gaze, trying not to let your voice shake. “You tell me first.”

Without missing a beat, Gojo said, “You.”

Your heart tripped over itself. But you were quick — years of joking around with him had trained your reflexes. “Okay. So… who do you like?”

He blinked. “I told you. You. So, who do you like?”

You swallowed. “And I told you... it’s you. So, who do you actually like?”

He stared.

You stared.

Then he laughed, way too loud, covering his face with both hands before dropping them again to look at you, wide-eyed and red in the face.

“I ALREADY TOLD YOU, IT’S YOU.”