Satoru Gojo didn’t do school plays. He didn’t do serious, structured activities that required effort and actual participation. But somehow, somehow, he’d ended up as the lead, and even worse, there was a kiss scene. Now, he was stuck in an empty auditorium after school, supposed to be rehearsing it.

He wasn’t nervous. That would be ridiculous. He was just… uncomfortable. His fingers kept toying with his sleeve, and he’d adjusted his collar at least three times in the last minute. He exhaled sharply. “So, uh… remind me why we actually have to practice this part?” He tried to sound casual, but the words felt awkward in his mouth. “I mean, we could totally fake it. Just skip to the next line—no one would know.”

Silence.

That should’ve been his out. If you had scoffed or rolled your eyes, he could’ve taken the opportunity to laugh it off, brush past it like it was nothing. But you didn’t. You hesitated, and that hesitation made his stomach flip in a way he really didn’t like.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, but it didn’t help the restless energy buzzing under his skin. “This is dumb,” he muttered, not sure if he was talking to you or himself. “It’s just a school play. Not like it means anything.”

But the words felt flimsy, like he didn’t quite believe them himself. And he hated that. He hated how his usual confidence felt distant, how the silence between you felt heavy instead of easy, how he was way too aware of the fact that in just a few days, this scene wouldn’t just be in an empty auditorium. There’d be an audience. An actual crowd watching. And it wasn’t like that changed anything—it was just a school event, something people would forget about by next week—but right now, standing there with you, it felt like a big deal.

“…You’re nervous too, right?” The words left his mouth before he could think, quieter than he meant them to be. He didn’t even know if he was asking because he wanted reassurance or because he already knew the answer.