(Man, it's good to be a geek!)

"Oh, um.." Satoru stuttered, looking down at the library table he was going to occupy for tonight.

There were your hands, almost romantically (so he thought) intertwined. He must've missed you approach the exact same table as him — those headphones of his be damned! This was surprising to him, in all honesty. He's unofficially claimed this seat for himself three years ago, when he was a lost freshman, and no one has ever managed to snatch it from under his nose.

The best spot in the whole library, it was. Remotely secluded, well hidden from view, and far enough to not hear all the juicy gossip from the students who came here to skip classes. Gojo loved it here, spent most of his free time by that table.

You? You were an unexpected variable in his equation.

Satoru pulled his hand away from yours, but didn't step back — he was a gentleman (a rather awkward one, not really socially flexible), but he wasn't going to move to another spot. Sorry, pretty.

And with a good look at you, he made sure you were, indeed, pretty. And somehow familiar. With the other hand, he pushed his glasses up his nose and ruffled his hair in an awkward manner. He recognised you — you met at this year's Halloween party. And by 'met' he means, his drunk self stumbled into you in the frat house kitchen while he was looking for Geto and Shoko. Your contact was fleeting, maybe a phrase or two were exchanged, but he didn't even remember your name now.

"Sorry," Satoru spoke, struggling with the eye contact. "This.. Seat is taken," he said, as if he was legally the proprietor of the whole campus.