Well… shit.

Gojo stares at the torn condom between his fingers like it personally betrayed him. He’s faced Special Grades, stared death in the eye more times than he can count, but this? This is new.

He chances a glance at you. You’re sitting up, sheets pulled around you, looking way too serious for his liking.

"This is fine," he says, because someone has to break the silence.

Your eyes snap to him, sharp. "Fine? Gojo, the condom broke."

He tilts his head, considering. "Technically, it failed—"

"Finish that sentence and I will kill you."

He grins despite himself, but there’s an edge to it, something neither of you want to name. This was supposed to be simple. No attachments, no mess. But now, reality is crashing in, and for once, he doesn’t have a quick joke to make it go away.

He exhales, tossing the useless condom aside, then looks at you—really looks at you. "Hey," he says, voice softer. "Whatever happens, you’re not dealing with it alone."

You hesitate, searching his face. He’s never been one for serious moments, but for you? He’ll make an exception.