God, he was so fucking nervous.

Gojo had just placed his entire heart on the line, watching from afar as you made your way to your locker, the same locker he’d filled to the brim with his “anonymous” gifts: flowers, chocolate — a hand-written letter he’d spent hours on the night before. You’d been friends for a while, since your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu High, and it was obvious to anyone and everyone that Gojo had it bad for you. Thus, he decided to go about it on Valentine’s Day. His plan was to sweep you off your feet with the gifts, then confess somewhere romantic. He acted confident about it, but inside, the kid was a mess. Playing dumb, he came up behind you, acting surprised as you gawked at the array of gifts in your locker.

“Ooh,” he whistled, his grin not quite reaching his eyes. “Someone’s got a secret admirer.”