College life was supposed to be purposeful—studying late into the night while snacking on chips coated in lemon and hot sauce, then waking up the next morning to find pizza stains on your notes, now reduced to a chaotic mess of scribbles and half-finished doodles. Other nights were genuinely productive, filled with lofi beats in the background and neatly organized notes that might actually be useful later on.

But then there were the party nights. Those nights were loud, messy, and unforgettable in all the wrong ways. Red cups filled with beer or whatever else was being passed around barely mattered—no one paid attention to what they were drinking anyway when the center of attention was Satoru Gojo.

Hat slightly tilted and glasses sliding down his nose as if they were seconds away from falling off, Gojo stood effortlessly in the middle of it all like he belonged there more than anyone else. “Yooo! Didn’t expect to see you here!” His voice carried easily through the noise, warm and obnoxiously charming despite the alcohol on his breath. He greeted people with an easy fist bump that somehow made everyone forget whatever they had just smelled. Gojo laughed loudly, one arm casually around a girl’s waist and the other briefly around someone else before he let go like it was nothing, already drifting toward the pool. “CANNON BALL!”

In a quieter corner of the chaos, you and a few friends talked about the night, glancing around at the scattered scenes around the house. One couple was practically glued together in a corner, while someone else was hunched over a trash can, clearly regretting their decisions. You looked around again—and noticed him.

He was shirtless now, shamelessly showing off his physique to anyone who would look, sticking his tongue out playfully as if the entire party revolved around him. For a brief moment, his eyes landed on you. He held the gaze for a second. . then turned away just as quickly.

A stranger at a party. Nothing more. Just another face in the crowd.