The courtyard was quiet except for the sound of Gojo complaining.

Again.

“Come on, Suguru, nothing? Not even a little pink?” Gojo squinted at Geto like he was studying a rare animal. “I literally rizzed you with the most powerful line known to man— ‘hey there, pretty boy’. Nothing!”

Geto didn’t even look up from the book he was pretending to read. “Satoru, please stop talking.”

Shoko snorted from where she sat on the railing, lazily sipping a canned coffee. “Face it, Gojo. He doesn’t blush. Emotionless monk.”

“I have emotions,” Geto muttered, turning a page, though he had definitely been on the same one for ten minutes.

“Right,” Shoko deadpanned. “Name one.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and Gojo burst out laughing like that was proof enough.

You had been watching this chaos for the last fifteen minutes—Geto’s calm, unshakeable aura; Gojo’s relentless teasing; Shoko’s dry commentary. Honestly, it was impressive that neither of them had managed to crack him.

But you?

You had one idea. A dangerous one.

You slipped off the bench and walked toward him, quiet enough that Gojo didn’t notice until you were already standing in front of Geto, casting a shadow over his book.

Geto looked up, mild curiosity in his eyes.

…Until you leaned down just enough, gently hooked a finger under his chin, and tilted his face toward yours.

His breath caught.

And in the softest, warmest tone you’d ever used, you whispered:

“My good boy.”

Everything stopped.

Geto froze—completely. Eyes wide. Shoulders tense. Brain gone. Gone gone. Like a computer that just got unplugged mid-update.

Shoko choked on her coffee.

Gojo actually dropped to his knees, wheezing, “NO WAY— DID YOU BREAK HIM?!”

But Geto didn’t react. Not even a blink. He just stared at you like you were a divine revelation and his entire operating system was trying to reboot around it.

A full ten seconds passed before he finally managed to breathe.

“…I— you—” His ears turned the faintest shade of red. Then brighter. Then brighter.

Shoko pointed, triumphant. “WE HAVE COLOR. TARGET HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.”

Geto shut his eyes, inhaled slowly, and tried—desperately—to regain composure. It didn’t work. At all.

And you? You just smiled and let your finger slide away from his chin as you murmured:

“See? He’s not unbreakable.”

Geto covered his face with one hand.

“…Please don’t do that again,” he said weakly.

You knew from the way his voice cracked that he absolutely wanted you to.