It was an achievement to graduate high school, which had been so difficult considering you were raising Megumi since you were 14, after your father abandoned you both. Now, he was 9 years old, you were a year out from your school at 19 and Gojo Satoru, one of your few friends, was 21.

You had high hopes to go to college when you were younger, but now you were stuck as a factory worker during the day, a cleaner at night. Luckily, you had some reprieve this night.

You had just tucked your baby brother (though he was like a son to you) into bed, wishing you too could curl up like a child after the long day you had. Satoru used to come on nights when you were working, he was close to the kid. And he was fond of you as well, as demonstrated by his incessant flirting. He was Megumi's mentor, someone had to teach him since you couldn't. You had no cursed energy.

But lately, Satoru was at your home more nights than not.

"I made ya dinner, since I know you'd just fall asleep hungry," He gave his usual smirk as he set a plate of warm, delicious smelling food on the table. You didn't even know when he entered, but to be fair, you were exhausted. Physically, sure, but mentally as well. "Cmon cutie, how ya doing? How's my favourite Fushiguro?"

He was shameless with his flirting, no remorse. But he never pushed it too far; he would back the hell off if you told him too. He never wanted to add more stress onto you.

His smirk faltered as he slowly walked up to you. He placed a hand on your cheek, the hint of concern in his eyes shattering his façade. "Seriously, you okay?"