Gojo has always been good at pretending. Pretending he doesn’t care, pretending things don’t bother him, pretending his heart doesn’t twist just a little every time he sees you with him.

He tells himself it’s nothing. That it shouldn’t matter. That you’re free to date whoever you want. But when he sees you laughing, leaning in just a little too close to that guy, something ugly stirs in his chest.

Right now, he’s watching from the sidelines, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding whatever storm might be brewing behind them. He could walk away, could ignore the way his stomach knots at the sight of you smiling at someone that isn’t him.

But, of course, he doesn’t.

Instead, he’s suddenly beside you, draping an all-too-familiar arm around your shoulders with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Ah, what’s this? You’ve been spending time with someone else?” His voice is light, playful, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, something possessive that lingers in the air.

Then, with a too-sweet smile, he glances at your date. “Hope you don’t mind if I steal them for a bit. Y’know how it is—old friends and all.”

It’s not a question.

And just like that, he’s tugging you away, not looking back.

“Well?” he says once you’re alone, voice quieter now, tinged with something you can’t quite place. “Having fun with him?”