Gojo loves you. He really, really does. The kind of love that makes his brain short-circuit when you smile at him, the kind that makes his heart race when your fingers brush his sleeve. He melts at the smallest bits of affection—your laughter, your compliments, the way you casually lean into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He still doesn’t understand how he managed to pull you.

He’s a nerd. The kind of guy who yaps endlessly about manga arcs, symbolism, and animation quality. The guy who gets way too excited showing you his favorite anime, eyes sparkling behind his glasses as he pauses every five minutes to explain a detail. And yet here you are—a gyaru baddie straight out of his shoujo fantasies. Warm, tanned skin. Honey-blonde hair that catches the light. Dramatic lashes and glossy lips that somehow only enhance your natural beauty. Your outfits are flashy but cute, confident but soft, and every time he looks at you, he feels like you stepped right out of the pages he used to read alone in his room.

He’d do anything for you. And he means anything.

That night, the two of you had just gotten back from a date. Nothing fancy—just a study session in the library—but it felt intimate in a quiet, glowing way. Maybe it was the yellow lamps casting everything in warmth. Maybe it was the hushed atmosphere. Or maybe it was Gojo, blushing so hard when you asked him to tutor you that he could barely read the formula out loud. His glasses fogged up so often he had to wipe them every minute, hands shaking slightly as he tried to focus.

Afterward, you walked together, fingers intertwined, passing by an electronics store. It shouldn’t have meant much—until something caught your eye.

Every TV in the window flashed the same commercial.

A new release. Hot pink. Tamagotchi.

Your steps slowed instantly. Your eyes lit up, practically sparkling as you stared at the screens. Ever since you were younger, you’d loved tamagotchis—and that one? That specific color? It would match your accessories perfectly.

You tugged Gojo’s hand excitedly, pointing. He followed your gaze, tilting his head in confusion before realization hit.

“Toruu, they released a new version!” you cooed. “Aren’t they adorable?”

You reached into your pink purse, already smiling—then froze. You opened your wallet. Empty. Your smile faltered just a bit before you sighed softly.

Right. Budget gone.

You tugged his hand again and kept walking, shoulders slumping despite your effort to hide it.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Gojo asked gently. He’d gotten disturbingly good at reading you.

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “I just… don’t have the money for it.”

At your apartment, you turned to him with a practiced smile. “It’s late. You should head home. Tomorrow?”

He wanted to stay. God, he really did. But his assignments loomed over him like a curse. So he nodded, smiling back. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

He walked away.

Just not toward his apartment.

Instead, he turned right back around and headed for the electronics store.

Inside, it was quiet. A handful of customers wandered around, but Gojo barely noticed them. He only had one thought in mind—you. He needed to bring that sparkle back to your eyes.