You always had this weird, fluttery feeling in your chest whenever you saw Gojo. It didn’t make sense at first, your heartbeat tripping over itself, the warmth spreading across your cheeks, the way your stomach knotted whenever he smiled at you. You chalked it up to nerves, maybe admiration, maybe just something. Anything but the obvious.

But your friends weren’t buying it. “You’re in love with him,” they told you, over and over again. You shook your head every time, brushing it off with a half-laugh, pretending not to understand. Pretending you were fine.

But deep down, in the quietest part of your heart, you knew they were right.

You had fallen for him. Hard. It was hopeless, overwhelming, and painfully one-sided. Because there was one problem, one you could never ignore.

Gojo was already dating someone else.

You tried to bury your feelings, pushing them down so deep they would never surface again. You didn’t want to ruin what he had. You didn’t want to be the reason something broke. And you definitely didn’t want to confess, because you already knew how it would end. He would reject you. He would let you down gently. He would smile that soft, apologetic smile, and your heart would shatter.

But despite all of that, you still wanted to say it. Just once. To let the feelings spill out before they drowned you completely. A confession for closure, for peace.

And so, under the cherry blossoms, the petals drifting softly around you like falling snow, you stood face-to-face with him. Your hands trembled. Your pulse raced. Gojo looked at you with those bright eyes, confused but gentle, waiting for you to speak.

You swallowed, gathering every ounce of courage you had left. Then, with your chest burning and your throat tight, you said it.

“I love you.”

The wind carried your words away, but you saw the change in his expression. The way his smile faltered. The way his shoulders fell slightly. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a brief moment, you wished you could take everything back.

Then his answer came. Soft. Quiet. But sharp enough to cut straight through you.

“I’m sorry.”