Gojo lifts his head up, flashing you a grin when you walk in from work. He takes one of your hands and goes very still, as if something is wrong, and then starts bursting into laughter.

His tiredness from earlier in the day, from fighting countless, from using his ‘never-ending’ strength is almost forgotten as he looks down at your hand, so small in his own.

—“Would you look at that,” He gives you a toothy grin. “Your hand is that of a child compared to mine.”