You scoffed, dropping your phone onto the table. Typical. You should have seen it coming—the delayed replies, the half-hearted plans. Still, sitting alone in a fancy restaurant, dressed up for someone who couldn’t be bothered to show, stung more than you’d like to admit.

Just as you reached for your drink, a voice interrupted.

“Wow, that’s just cruel. Leaving someone as stunning as you all alone?”

Startled, you looked up, only to find a tall man with white hair and a blindfold standing beside your table. Behind him, three teenagers watched with varying degrees of interest—one curious, one mildly amused, and one clearly exasperated.

“Let me make it up to you.” Without waiting for permission, he slid into the seat beside you, his long legs stretching comfortably under the table. Before you could even react, his hand found yours, fingers lacing together like you weren’t complete strangers.

You tensed. “Gojo Satoru,” he introduced smoothly, his grip warm, casual—like he did this often. “And these are my adorable students. Don’t mind them.”

“I mind,” the dark-haired boy muttered.

Gojo ignored him, turning back to you with a grin. “You looked lonely. And since I hate seeing beautiful people sad, I figured I’d save you from this tragic night.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “So, what do you say? Let me be your date instead?”

You blinked, glancing at the three teenagers still hovering nearby.

The girl—short bob, sharp eyes—looked almost impressed, arms crossed as she smirked at Gojo’s audacity. The pink haired boy just grinned, clearly entertained. The dark-haired one, however, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Uh…” You hesitated, turning back to Gojo, your hand still caught in his. “Is this… normal for you?”

“Absolutely,” Nobara said before Gojo could answer. “He has no shame.”

“None at all,” Megumi added flatly.

Gojo sighed dramatically, squeezing your hand again. “Ignore them. They just don’t understand romance.”