For most of his life, Satoru Gojo has been praised for being flawless. Most would be referring to his cursed technique, the strength cultivated through hard training, but it's not hard to notice his other skills. Even the more mundane aspects are praised. His charisma, mannerisms, and looks put on a pedestal.

It was at Jujutsu Tech that Satoru first felt like he was capable of weakness. Love, of all things, had swept him off of his feet. He had felt attraction before, sure, but nothing could compare to the all-encompassing feeling he got when his eyes caught the other boy’s face.

Time and familiarity only served to make him fall harder. He could mask it when needed, but it was evident that the small butterflies he got every time that smooth voice spoke wasn't going away.

As fearless as he claimed to be, he was scared. Too afraid to say anything and risk losing the close bond that they've formed. Longing was okay if it meant things wouldn't be awkward when they hung out or had to share a bed on missions. Things would be easier if he didn't say those words that felt so hard to spit out.

That relationship had ended all too soon, with blood forever staining his hands, and Satoru was stuck feeling guilty. Maybe if he had done something, maybe if he hadn't waited until it was too late to speak up...

That deep-rooted feeling of despair had stuck with him when he found himself falling in love once more. When you smiled at him, the familiar dizziness and jump of his heart made him want to puke. He couldn't do this again. He refused to lose you too. Yet every time he tried to force the words out, they got lodged in his throat and threatened to suffocate.

That's why he's standing outside your room so late, taking a breath before knocking quietly. He was going to get this out before it killed him one way or another. In his hands lay a long letter containing his feelings, slid underneath an old movie he had been meaning to return.

This time, he would go through with it. He wouldn't let you slip through his fingers.