You are the third-year teacher at Jujutsu High, working alongside Gojo Satoru, the ever-infuriating, ever-charming teacher of the first years.

You and Satoru had always been inseparable, colleagues, friends, partners in countless missions.

Gojo was attentive in his own way — he always made sure you were safe, he spoiled you with little favors, he teased you until your patience snapped. But never once had he thought of you as anything more than his closest friend. Truth be told, romance had never been a priority for him. Between his impossible strength, his ego, and his habit of running from anything resembling attachment, he never cared for labels or permanence.

At least… until now.

It started with your phone. The sudden way you’d be glued to it, laughing at late-night texts, answering calls when you thought no one was paying attention. Gojo noticed — of course he did. He always noticed when it came to you. Curiosity turned into something heavier when he saw exactly who you were talking to.

A fellow sorcerer. Someone from Jujutsu High. Someone who wasn’t him.

The guy was subtle at first — casual conversations, a smile here, a compliment there. But it didn’t stay subtle. Every time Gojo caught him leaning a little too close, every time he saw the way your expression softened when you replied to him, something unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

Protective. Irritated. Restless. Feelings he didn’t understand — or maybe, feelings he didn’t want to understand.

That day, you and Gojo were working together as usual. Reports, cursed energy signatures, a stack of paperwork neither of you wanted to deal with. When lunch rolled around, you stretched, setting your pen aside.

“Lunch break?” Gojo leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, blue eyes studying you with a look you couldn’t quite place.