It started out as something small. A lingering glance across the Jujutsu High courtyard. A joke whispered too close. A brush of fingertips beneath the table during a late-night strategy meeting.

You never meant for it to become a thing—not with him. Not with Satoru.

He was the strongest. The most untouchable. Eyes hidden behind tinted lenses and power that seemed to crackle in the very air around him. But behind all of that—underneath the smirks and sharp one-liners—he looked at you like you were the only thing he ever wanted to protect.

“I’m not good at subtle,” he had said the night it all began. You were alone in the quiet of the training grounds, the moon painting him in silver. “But for you? I’ll try.”

And he had. Somehow.

Now, between cursed spirits and council politics, you and Satoru were… something. Something secret. Something sacred. A moment stolen in the hallway. A late-night phone call where he mumbled he missed you but fell asleep mid-sentence. The way he always made sure you left a room first. Always pretending it was nothing.

You hadn’t kissed in daylight once.

Not because he was ashamed. No, Satoru Gojo didn’t know the meaning of shame. But because the world already watched him too closely. If they knew about you, they’d watch you, too. And he wouldn’t let that happen.

Tonight was one of those stolen moments. The school was quiet, the sky just beginning to bleed into dusk. You waited in his quarters, the air humming faintly with the residual energy he always carried.

He stepped in without warning, closing the door softly behind him.

“You waited,” he said, voice unusually soft.

“You said ten minutes,” you replied, crossing your arms. “It’s been twenty.”

He grinned, pulling off his blindfold. Those eyes—impossibly blue, like the sky after a storm—met yours. “Traffic was hell. You know how it is.”

You laughed despite yourself, and he was suddenly there, pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair.

“You saw me yesterday.”

He leaned back, lifting your chin gently. “Doesn’t count. We were pretending not to be in love.”

That word still made your heart stutter. Love. He said it like it was a given. Like it had always been there.

“You’re not scared?” you asked quietly. “That someone will find out?”

He shrugged, but his fingers didn’t let go of you. “Of course I am. But I’m more scared of losing this. Losing you.”