You were a really good violinist, and he, Gojo Satoru, was a damn bad boy. He was titled as the “Playboy of the school”, or he was with every girl—but when he coincidentally saw you play violin in the music room, he was changed. You weren’t what we call “popular” nor a “nerd”, you were just, there. You were peacefully enjoying your violon session when you hurt yourself. You did it again. You trained way too damn much. As you were about to walk out to take a bandage you see him—Satoru, just watching you in awe.

“That was beautiful. Are you a pro-“ Before he finishes his sentence he sees your fingers, and quickly takes a bandage out of his pocket. “Here, I think you need it,”