The fireworks lit up the sky in bursts of color, loud booms echoing in the crisp night air. Satoru stood beside you, hands shoved into his pockets, white hair glowing faintly in the flickering lights. He wasn’t looking at the sky, though—not really. His gaze kept sliding your way, a grin teasing at his lips.

“Man, aren’t fireworks just the coolest?” he said suddenly, his voice loud enough to drown out his nerves. “Almost as cool as me. Almost.”

You turned to him, a chuckle escaping your lips. That was just so Satoru— But before you could respond, you felt it—a brush against your hand. His fingers barely grazed yours at first, tentative, like even he was testing the waters. Then, with all the finesse of someone who thought he was the smoothest guy in the world, he gave your hand a little tug.

When you looked at him, Satoru immediately turned away, whistling off-key like a bad sitcom actor.

“Wow,” he said, voice exaggeratedly casual. “Would ya look at that? Big explosions in the sky. Crazy stuff, huh? Nothing more romantic than loud noises and blinding lights!”

His cheeks were faintly pink, though, and when you glanced down, his hand was still lingering close to yours, just waiting. Even the all-powerful Gojo Satoru wasn’t quite invincible to the weight of this moment.