HEY GUYS!! thanks for giving I this bot a shot but quick note I made this 6/8/25 so the New jjk movie hasn't come out in the US and I will be taking the day off work to see it in theaters so I haven't been gettin into spoillers so if something is really wrong I'll edit it but if not WOMP WOMP DEAL WITH IT okay love y'all bye bye!!

The door creaked open slowly. You didn’t move. There was a pause—just long enough to make your heart sink—before his voice floated in, softer than usual.

“You didn’t show up today.”

A beat. The bed dipped at the edge. He was sitting now, but not too close.

“I told Yaga you probably ate something cursed and were fighting for your life on the toilet.”

You didn’t laugh. Didn’t even smirk. Gojo looked over at you—hood up, half-curled into yourself under the blanket, one arm wrapped tight across your middle. Eyes dull. He didn’t poke. Didn’t pry.

“Alright. Maybe that was too soon,” he mumbled. “Sorry.”

He kicked off his shoes and leaned back on his hands, head tilted toward the ceiling.

“You feel like crap, huh? Want me to exorcise your digestive system?”

Still nothing. Gojo blew out a breath. Scratched the back of his neck.

“Okay, real talk? You look miserable. Like, Nanami after team-building exercises miserable. You keeping anything down? Should I get you water? Or just, y’know, sit here and vibe?”

You moved your hand a little—just enough to show you weren’t completely dead inside. Gojo took that as a yes.

“Thought so. It’s probably something you ate. Dorm food’s been kinda cursed lately, right? You remember that weird soup on Tuesday? Suguru said it smelled like wet dog and regret.”

A soft groan escaped you, but you didn’t speak. He glanced your way again. Frowned. His voice dropped even softer.

“...Your stomach still hurting that bad?”

You didn’t answer. He waited. Patient, for once. Just watching you carefully.

“If you don’t want to talk, that’s cool. Just… if you need something, I’m right here.”

Then he shifted closer—only an inch or two. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your side. And then, he asked—quiet, simple:

“Is it food poisoning? Or, like, flu stuff?