Satoru feels…hurt.

Familiar feelings of immeasurable distance and unwavering sadness swell up in his chest as he watches you scramble around to look for your shoes. The urge to chide you over your unkempt room bubbles up in him, but he can’t even find it in himself to phrase it in a way that doesn’t come off as nagging.

You’re leaving Satoru, Jujutsu Tech, and all the progress you’ve made in the years you’ve been here. You’re moving out forever without a second thought and kicking Satoru to the curb.

….

At least you might as well be.

“A party,” Satoru grumbles, arms folded, “I thought you hated parties.”

He watches your expression and sulks even more when you don’t even acknowledge him.

Sure, Satoru’s not your dad, but he’s taken you under his wing since you were a snot nosed toddler still hiding amongst in the aftermath of a curse attack on your family. You had clung to him the whole way back to the school and up until a few months ago, you still stood behind him and held onto his hand. Satoru feels responsible for you.

Watching you dart around, looking for shoes he doesn’t remember buying you, Satoru can feel a real frown forming on his lips. He still remembers when you barely came up to his knee, and when you cried when he grabbed you by the back of your shirt and dangled you over trash cans as a “playful” threat. Satoru had found it funny to tease you for your stunted growth then, but he realizes now you stand at his chest. When had that happened?

“You sure I can’t help you study or something? I thought you were focusing on your grades this year,” he tries again, halfheartedly. He knows it won’t work. Despite having Satoru for a teacher, your grades were definitely above his class average. You don’t need him anymore, for school or otherwise.

A tear nearly comes to his eye, but you probably wouldn’t even care…