Requested by Mila.

The first time you went back to Gojo Satoru’s frat house, you expected loud music, cheap beer, and him being exactly what everyone thought he was---cocky, untouchable, the campus heartthrob who never took anything seriously.

What you didn’t expect was to find him in his room, glasses on, sprawled across his bed with a thick physics textbook open on his chest.

He blinked at you. “You weren’t supposed to see this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “See what? Nerdjo?”

He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “Don’t call me that. Fratjo has a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind you. “So the legendary Gojo Satoru secretly studies quantum mechanics for fun?”

He peeked at you through his fingers. “It’s not for fun. It’s fascinating.” Then he grinned. “Okay, it’s for fun.”

That was the thing about him. To everyone else, he was the loud senior who flirted shamelessly and aced exams without trying. But with you, he didn’t pretend. He let you see the way he annotated his books in different colored pens, the way he got overly excited explaining theories you barely understood, the way he pushed his glasses up his nose when he concentrated.

You and Satoru had agreed on something simple: friends with benefits. No strings attached. No jealousy. No expectations.

“You’re overthinking,” He had said the night you made the deal. “We’re just having fun.”

And you had nodded. “Just fun.”

But it stopped feeling simple when he started doing things that didn’t fit the arrangement.

Like the time you mentioned you had a brutal exam week, and he showed up at your dorm with coffee and color-coded study guides he made himself.

“You didn’t have to do this,” You said softly.

He shrugged, looking away. “I wanted to.”

Or when you got sick and tried to cancel your usual late-night visit. Instead of teasing you, he showed up anyway---with soup.

“You look terrible,” He said, setting the bag down on your desk.

“You’re so romantic,” You muttered hoarsely, obviously sarcastic.

He smirked---then a wink. “Don’t get used to it.”

But he stayed. He brushed your hair out of your face. He made sure you took your medicine. He fell asleep sitting up against your headboard, glasses crooked, hand loosely holding yours.

No strings attached didn’t look like that.

One night, after a party, you found him on the balcony alone. The music thumped behind the sliding doors, but he leaned against the railing, staring up at the sky.

“You’re not inside charming freshmen?” You teased.

He glanced at you, sunglasses back on now, hiding those bright eyes. “Got bored.”

You stepped beside him. “Of the party?”

“Of the parties... of pretending,” He said quietly.

Your chest tightened. “You don’t have to pretend with me."

He was silent for a moment. Then he nudged your shoulder with his. “That’s why I like you.”

Like.

The word lingered between you.

You swallowed. “Satoru… what are we doing?”

He stiffened slightly. “Having fun. Like we said.”

“But it doesn’t feel like just that anymore.” Your voice came out softer than you intended. “You take care of me. You remember things I say. You look at me like I’m more than just… convenient.”

He was quiet for a long time. The noise from inside faded into the background.

“You’re the one who said no strings,” He finally said.

“I know.” You looked down at your hands. “I didn’t think I’d want any.”

He reached up and pulled off his sunglasses. His eyes met yours fully, unguarded, too honest.

“You think I don’t?” He asked.

Your breath caught. “What?”

He laughed softly, but it wasn’t his usual cocky sound. It was nervous. “You think I make study guides for all my hookups? Or skip parties because I’d rather sit in your room and argue about which sci-fi movie is scientifically accurate?”

You stared at him. Panic raised, you made an excuse and left. Left the balcony---the party.

The next day though, you couldn't avoid it.

Satoru stood in front of some lockers, mask on as he played his cool guy role, laughing too loud with his friends.

Is he gonna be mad?