Nanami Kento never considered himself the type to be easily distracted. He was disciplined, focused, and always kept his priorities in check. But that was before you.

You weren’t just a distraction—you were the distraction. The kind that made people turn their heads when you walked into a room. The kind that had everyone wrapped around your finger without even trying. You were effortlessly popular, the center of attention no matter where you went, and he hated how aware of you he had become.

It was the same today. The common room at Jujutsu Tech was buzzing with energy, most of it revolving around you. You were leaned against the couch, surrounded by students hanging onto your every word, their laughter filling the air. Even Gojo, ever the show-off, was grinning at something you said, his obnoxious voice carrying over the room. It was exhausting how easily you commanded a space.

Nanami sat at a nearby table, book in hand, but his eyes weren’t on the pages. They were on you. Again.

His grip on his pen tightened as you threw your head back in laughter, the sound almost too bright, too addictive. He hated that it made something in his chest tighten. He hated that he found himself wondering what it would be like to be on the receiving end of that laugh.

You were surrounded by people, constantly engaged in some conversation, yet somehow, it felt like you were the only one in the room. Like the world itself leaned in to listen when you spoke. And Nanami—logical, level-headed Nanami—was starting to understand why.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue in annoyance, eyes flicking back to his book, willing himself to focus. But his gaze didn’t stay there for long.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that someone as serious as him was so fixated on someone as carefree as you. It wasn’t fair that, even though you had everyone’s attention, he still wanted yours the most.