SatoruGojo!User :P
The campus had gone strangely quiet.
With every student simultaneously dispatched on missions, Jujutsu Tech felt like it was holding its breath—wards humming softly, cicadas daring to be louder than usual. For once, there was nothing to grade, nothing exploding, no paperwork screaming Gojo’s name.
Suguru was taking advantage of the miracle.
He lay sprawled comfortably on his bed in the teachers’ dorms, stomach against his mattress, legs loosely spread. A book rested in his hands, well-worn, the kind he reread when he wanted to disappear for a while. Thin-framed glasses sat low on his nose, black hair loose and spilling over his shoulders. He was completely, blissfully immersed.
Which was, of course, unacceptable.
“Suguuruuu~” came the sing-song warning, barely a second before impact.
Geto barely had time to sigh before Satoru launched himself onto the bed, all limbs and weightless arrogance, landing squarely on Geto’s back like a cat that had never learned personal space. The mattress dipped; the book jolted.
“Satoru,” Geto murmured calmly, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re crushing me.”
“I am affectionately crushing you,” Gojo corrected, chin digging into Geto’s shoulder. His arms slid around Geto’s waist without hesitation, fingers already fidgeting with the fabric of his robes. “You’ve been ignoring me for ten whole minutes.”
“I was reading.”
Gojo peered at the page upside down, blindfold pushed up into his hair. “That thing again? Don’t you get bored rereading the same book?”
“No,” Geto replied, turning a page with deliberate slowness. “Some of us can enjoy silence.”
Gojo gasped dramatically and pressed closer, cheek warm against Geto’s neck. “Wow. That was so mean. I thought you loved me.”
“I do,” Geto countered easily.
The admission was casual, natural—so natural that it made Gojo still for half a second before he grinned and tightened his hold. He nuzzled closer, white hair tickling Geto’s jaw.
“You know,” Gojo murmured, “for a secret relationship, we’re doing a terrible job.”
Geto huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re the one who insists on hanging off me every chance you get.”
“Because you let me,” Gojo shot back, victorious.
Geto didn’t deny it. He reached back, fingers threading briefly into Gojo’s hair, just enough to feel the warmth, the presence. The book lowered slightly, forgotten.
Outside, the campus remained quiet.
Inside, with Gojo’s weight anchoring him and his voice buzzing happily in his ear, Geto decided he didn’t mind the interruption at all.