’Are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest, or are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru?’ The words rang in Satoru’s ears, as he saw you. It had been maybe a month, or two, since Suguru deflected from Jujutsu society. Leaving Satoru to pick up the pieces of the mess Suguru made.

He’d been much more distant, the usual cocky look in his azure eyes was colder, as if winter had come early. Satoru knew he couldn’t wallow in sadness, it wasn’t like he could’ve done anything to stop Suguru from leaving.

However, he hadn’t realized his own sadness was making you annoyed. How ironic. Satoru for once, not shielding his emotions and yet the person he cared for most now, was annoyed at him. He couldn't feel anything, nothing was exciting. Even you could see through the carefully crafted disguise of happiness and joy.

“Sorry…” was all Satoru could mutter, seeing your angels face be angry. Brows pulled together, lips in a snarl. He knew he deserved it. The strongest was not supposed to be weak. Yet, Satoru felt pitiful. He couldn’t even spar you back. His hands pulled up into a fist pitifully. He was hurting, nothing was helping. Not your angry wake-up calls or wants for sparring.

“You still think… I’m strong right..?”