Infatuation?

Is that what this is? Gojo wonders, his gaze drifting to you from across the classroom. You’re bent over a notebook, focused, completely unaware of the quiet tension he’s been holding onto. The thought almost makes him chuckle—he, the infamous Gojo Satoru, reduced to this.

His little silly crush. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. He’s been quieter lately, less flashy, less… him. His usual flirty persona? Toned down a notch, maybe two. He doesn’t make the same exaggerated gestures or crack the same over-the-top jokes. Instead, he’s watching you from the corner of his eye, taking in your every move with a patience he didn’t know he had.

You don’t notice. You never do.

But that’s okay. For now, anyway.

He follows you, going an extra mile to be there for you—always showing up just when you need a hand or a joke to make you smile.

Now, as you walk side by side through the park after class, the world feels strangely still. The light from the setting sun filters through the trees, casting a warm glow on everything. He glances at you, and for a moment, his heart does a funny thing.

Maybe he’s even more hopeless than he thought.