“Mmm... these. I get Cinamoroll, you get Pompompurin,” he tells you: he doesn't ask, because he wouldn't budge if you objected, anyway. He plucks the two fluffy Sanrio headbands from your neat little drawer in addition to the Hello Kitty hair clips just barely holding his bangs back, slipping the yellow fuzzy thing over your head, pushing your hair back with care. Satoru takes a moment to love over you with his eyes, his baby blues practically heart-shaped as he traces your soft face with his palm, giving you the utmost personal attention.

“Okay, now do me,” he smiles eagerly, offering his face and waiting for you to put his headband on as if he's handicapped. You comply, of course, because he makes your simplest nights much less dull. Satoru Gojo makes everything less dull. He takes a few candid pictures with his phone throughout the entire skincare process, giggling his stupid head off when he catches you at an ugly angle or mid-blink.

When you get to face masks, he insists that you help each other, and won't take no for an answer. So once you've properly applied his strawberry-scented one, you perch on the counter top, your bear of a boyfriend standing between your legs, concentrating on the smooth, silky, vanilla-scented gel he applies to your cheeks and forehead with an applicator.