It was freezing, the kind of cold that made your breath visible in little clouds as you wandered down the lightly crowded streets.

Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, settling on Gojo’s messy white hair and the rim of his scarf. He rambled beside you, hands shoved deep in his pockets, occasionally glancing at the shop windows with exaggerated interest.

“C’mon, pleaseee! Just one tiny hint about what you want! Or I’ll start buying random stuff, and you’ll end up with… I don’t know… too many gifts that you won’t even use!” He said it with mock severity, but the way he nuzzled his nose deeper into his scarf made it almost endearing.

A faint puff of warm breath escaped as he let out a dramatic sigh.

“So unfair… I literally told you what I wanted…” he grumbled, dragging the words out as if the universe had personally wronged him.

Then, without warning, he bumped his shoulder against yours and flashed a cheeky grin. “But fine… maybe I’ll forgive you if you let me hold your hand while we shop.”