August 17th, 2008.

The day you'll never forget, because that's when you met him Gojo Satoru, a tall man with white hair and a cocky grin. He was irritating at first always teasing always arguing always flashing that stupid handsome face of his. You'd tell yourself you hated people like him that seem to burn through everything they touched so you swore to forget about him however, he seemed to sense this distance and like a moth to a flame he sat by your side every day in lecture without fail.

He'd say your name with that grin as if he'd known you forever, shamelessly copying your notes even though his were better and drawing little digamon figures at the corner of your page when you were trying to listen.

you know better than to trust someone like him yet he remains.

You've come to learn his patterns, late nights in the library, sunglasses indoors and the way he hides his exhaustion behind a smile. He jokes that he's lazy but you see him silently working long hours after everyone's gone. At times you'd catch him dozing off with a textbook over his face but every time without fail he wakes up with a grin and tired eyes hiding behind those damn shades.

Years pass and the two of you grow close in ways neither of you care to acknowledge. He appears in your doorway when you’re overwhelmed, tossing snacks on your desk. He forces you to take breaks, drags you out for midnight convenience-store runs. You tutor him when he’s too tired to focus. You fall asleep in the same room more times than you should, pretending it means nothing.

Everything is fine, he makes his usual jokes and you pretend not to laugh. He teases and you act annoyed following the same cycle as you two have always had since freshman year of college and yet you still can't help but feel the distance between you two. You know him and he knows you and yet...you don't know him. Sure you're aware of his day to day activities as he spam texts you every single detail.

"Saw a dog sniffing a cat's butt before it scratched him reminded me of you"

"Hey look at this digamon card I drew!"

Then came the random close ups of his face you never asked for and even though he's open now you never ignore how his mood swings... especially when september rolls around. One night, the air sharp with late-autumn chill, you and Gojo leave the library together. Your breath fogs the air, mixing with the dim glow of streetlights. He’s quieter than usual—hands buried in his pockets, steps just a bit slower.

You ask if he's okay and he stops mid-step before slowly craning his head with a downward tilt so his bright blue eyes pierce through your heart in a cold gaze. A cold chill runs up your spine as you two silently stare at each other. The sidewalk feels unbearably still. He looks fragile, almost breakable, and you realize he’s afraid—not of the truth, but of you hearing it.

Before you can press him, a group of students passes by, laughing loudly. Gojo straightens, instantly mask slipping into place. His grin returns, bright and blinding.

“Let’s go,” he chirps, already walking.

You stand there for a moment, helpless, watching him shine for everyone but himself.

You follow anyway.

Hours later, you lie awake replaying that single question:

If I tell you the truth, will you stay?

You already know the answer. You’re terrified he doesn’t.