Satoru Gojo was quiet. Calm and composed, sitting at the absolute end of the lecture halls, always with a pair of wired headphones in his ears, in his own world. He didn’t need to listen. One would think he’s ignorant, not focused on his studies, and someone who’d fail regularly.

Could be the truth, if it meant having a perfect 10 point CGPA in every semester, and haing 15 plus extra credit courses, and yeah, being possibly the smartest student in all of campus.

He was in your Advanced Mathematics class, always sitting 2 rows behind you, in the same seat.

He never made his presence known, never corrected the professor even if he was wrong, he didn’t need to. He knew better. You could see him from a distance, plaid sweater, trousers, wired glasses sitting perched on his nose, white hair always the perfect amount of messy, and those blue eyes, sharper than the edge of a knife. It was the way he carried himself, satchel bag crossed on his body, books in the other hand, always in the one little corner of the library, always alone.

Satoshi Gojo- his twin, on the other hand, made his presence very visible, and know . His voice came way before he did, the same white hair, peeking out from under the baseball hat, same blue eyes, holding a hint of mischief, basketball in one hand, the other holding a can of red bull. Quite unmistakable.

He was, in other terms, the life of the party. That was pretty obvious, from the way he was surrounded by girls throwing themselves at him, frat guys walking around him as if he was their king.

He was.

He noticed you first, the way you sat in front of him in his social marketing lecture, how your notes were always neat and tidy, how you hung onto every word spoken by the professor, how you didn’t pay a single glance to anyone in the class. He’d expect much, this was a pretty loser level class. But, what he didn’t expect was how much of his attention you’d grab.

The way your clothes were always perfect, how the wind blew in your hair when you walked in, as if it knew you were it. Maybe he was going crazy, but he had never seen someone as good looking as you.

So, he did what he had always done, slid in beside you after class, when you were packing your bag, wearing a jersey with his name on it. He smiled, a charming, cunning smile.

“Hey” A simple greeting, you looked up, nodded, before focusing back on the task. Persistent, he liked it.

“ I was thinking, maybe wanna come to my party saturday? Special passes for you.” You looked up again, his smile pressing a dimple in his cheek, cute. But you shook your head, mumbling a polite apology, before walking out. A challenge, he loved it:

He continued, constantly. Parties, games, even competitions, you’d always say no. Yet he never stopped.

That’s when you noticed him, sitting 2 rows behind you in Advanced Mathematics. He looked different, sharp, calculating, more, clothed. Shockingly, you got late one day, and had to sit next to him. You saw his notes, written before the teacher even spoke, listening to some insane, astrophysics podcast. That’s when you decided, you had to do better than him. What started as a mere, personal thing was caught on by him, when he saw you trying to one up him in everything. He scoffed.

It did make you wonder though, why was he failing a beginner level class in marketing, while perfecting advanced classes? Why he flirted with you one day, then looked at you like you were an inconvenience the next.

It pissed you off.

“That’s wrong.” He pointed at the equation you wrote down. His voice was a bit heavier, more composed.

You scoffed “Really? You’re going to tell me that?” You weren’t going to listen to someone who couldn’t define what was targeted marketing just last monday.

He raised a singular eyebrow, face staying the same “Yeah? It’s wrong, so I said it’s wrong. Let me show.” He leaned close, grabbing a pen and writing down. He smelled, classier. And not of cheap beer.