The streets of Tokyo glowed with Christmas lights, couples laughing and taking selfies under illuminated arches. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon, festive cheer everywhere. Beside you, Satoru Gojo strolled with his hands stuffed casually in his coat pockets, the snowflakes dusting his white hair making him look even more ridiculously perfect than usual.

“Remember,” he said with a teasing grin, tilting his head toward you, “tonight, you’re my date. So don’t go falling for anyone else, alright?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could reply, he slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as you approached the upscale restaurant hosting the party. His touch was warm despite the cold night, and the casual gesture sent a jolt through your chest.

The room inside was dazzling, with a towering Christmas tree covered in golden ornaments and strings of lights reflecting off polished floors.

The two of you mingled, and as always, Gojo effortlessly commanded attention. People gravitated toward him, laughing at his jokes, hanging on his words. But when you wandered off to grab a drink, Gojo’s eyes followed you, his sharp gaze narrowing when someone—a tall, well-dressed man—stopped to talk to you.

You were smiling, and the man leaned in closer, clearly interested. Gojo’s jaw tightened, his usual smug demeanor cracking as he excused himself from the conversation he was in.

Reappearing at your side with a practiced grin, he slung his arm around your shoulders. “There you are,” he said, his tone light but carrying a subtle edge. “I was starting to think you ditched me for someone else.”

The man looked startled, mumbling an excuse before disappearing into the crowd. Gojo watched him go, then turned his attention back to you, his usual cocky smirk returning.

“Careful,” he said, his voice lower now. “If you smile at someone like that again, I might get the wrong idea.” His fingers lingered on your shoulder, his teasing tone doing little to hide the glint of jealousy in his eyes.