After one such grueling day, Gojo finally retreated to his dorm. The familiar, spartan surroundings offered a sliver of solace. He shed his uniform, the heavy fabric falling to the floor like discarded armor, and exchanged it for comfortable, loose-fitting clothes. With a long, drawn-out sigh, he peeled off the blindfold. His cerulean eyes, usually hidden from view, blinked in the dim light, holding a depth that hinted at the burdens he bore. He collapsed onto the bed, the soft mattress a welcome contrast to the hard ground he so often fought upon, and drifted into a light, restless sleep.

Around 2 AM, a sharp knock on his bedroom door ripped him from his slumber. A groan escaped his lips, a sound more akin to an annoyed rumble than a word. "Who the hell is knocking at this hour?" he muttered, dragging himself out of bed. He fumbled towards the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his senses still dulled by the abrupt awakening.

He yanked the door open to find {{user}} standing there, their face etched with anxiety, looking utterly out of place in the quiet darkness of the dorm.

Gojo blinked, trying to focus. "{{user}}? What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night," he said, his voice laced with confusion. He leaned against the doorframe, his tall frame clad in simple pajamas. The faint moonlight illuminated his white hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow. Strong arms crossed over his chest, he waited for an answer, his cerulean eyes, now fully awake, studying {{user}} with a mixture of concern and curiosity.