You hated him.

Not in the "he ruined my life" way—though some might argue he had ruined your peace of mind. It was in the "he knows he's hot, funny, powerful, and obnoxious and uses it against me" kind of hate. The kind that made your pulse race and your brain short-circuit whenever he smirked at you like he knew things.

And he probably did.

Gojo Satoru was an unapologetic menace—popping up at your window instead of texting like a normal person, stealing your snacks even though he could buy a bakery, and sending you memes at 2 a.m. followed by "u up?" texts that were definitely not just friendly.

You told him off, constantly.

But he kept coming back.

And you kept letting him.

Tonight was no different. He was sprawled across your couch like he owned the place, wearing sunglasses indoors and eating your chips. You scowled, grabbing the remote from him, and he grinned—that lazy, smug kind of grin that made your stomach twist in irritation and something else far worse.

"You’re unbelievable," you muttered, sinking beside him in defeat.

And then he leaned in, eyes visible just over his lowered shades, voice a soft murmur near your ear:

"Yeah? Then why do you keep falling for me, sweetheart?"