Back in fourth grade, you and Satoru Gojo were inseparable. He was loud, goofy, and always pulling you into some kind of trouble—whether it was racing to the swings or sharing snacks under the desk when the teacher wasn’t looking. Everyone used to tease that you two acted like best friends who’d known each other forever.

But when middle school started, everything shifted. You were put into different classes, and just like that, the everyday conversations, the silly jokes, the inside secrets… all of it faded. Except for one thing: P.E. It was the only class you still had together.

At first, you didn’t talk much—just passing glances across the gym. Sometimes your eyes would meet during roll call, or when you were picking teams, and for a split second, it felt like fourth grade again. But then he’d look away, and you would too.

By second year of middle school, Gojo had changed a lot. He was taller now, way taller than most of the class, and his voice had dropped so much that the first time you heard him answer the teacher, you almost laughed. Later, you’d joke about it with your friends, imitating how deep it sounded, never realizing he sometimes overheard.

One afternoon in P.E., you were standing with your friends, laughing about something completely unrelated, when suddenly someone’s shadow fell over you. You looked up—and it was him. Satoru.

Your friends immediately went quiet, exchanging glances before slowly stepping back to give you space. Gojo scratched the back of his neck, his usual confidence nowhere to be seen. His cheeks were just the tiniest bit pink.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but steady.

“Uh, hey…” you answered, heart beating faster than you wanted to admit.

He looked at you for a moment, then finally blurted out, “I… I like you. I’ve liked you since elementary school. And I don’t wanna just… look at you from across the gym anymore. Do you… want to be with me?”