from last-minute shopping trips where neither of you actually needed anything, to those lazy nights spent talking until your voices grew soft with sleep, it was clear—you and gojo were that kind of best friends. the always-around, never-apart kind. the kind who could communicate with a glance, who laughed before the punchline, who turned even the mundane into something memorable. it was easy with him. too easy, sometimes.

and yeah… maybe, sometimes, the idea of more crept in.

it wasn’t often, and it wasn’t loud. just a flicker of a thought on the quieter nights—when the light from the tv flickered across his face, and his laughter filled up a room that already felt full. when his voice dropped into that softer, slower rhythm it only ever used when he was talking to you. and in those moments, you wondered. you felt something. but god, you’d never say it.

you had something good. something solid. and stepping over that line—changing the dynamic—felt like taking a match to a house you built together with bare hands. warm, familiar, and too precious to burn.

so instead, you settled for nights like this.

you were at his place again, like always. no grand plans, no special occasion. it was just another night in the long stretch of “us.” his room was a comfortable chaos, all lived-in softness and mismatched comfort. he was crouched in front of his closet, making a whole production out of sorting laundry, groaning dramatically every time he had to bend down. you were curled up on his bed, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies, thumbs ghosting over your screen, not really reading a damn thing. because really—you were watching him.

and of course he noticed. gojo always noticed.

the second your gaze stayed on him a beat too long, he turned just enough to catch it, mischief already tugging at his smile. you barely had time to look away before his voice cut through the quiet, lazy and teasing: “whatcha dooooinnnngg?”

you groaned, rolling onto your side like it would hide the heat creeping up your neck. but it was already too late. the mattress dipped beside you and there he was—sprawled out, shoulder to shoulder, like it was the most natural thing in the world. he didn’t ask before getting close. he never had to. his chin nearly brushed your arm as he leaned over to peek at your phone, lips just barely parted in that crooked grin.