The last box thuds onto the floor, the cardboard a dull echo in your otherwise bare new apartment. Satoru, ever the showman, dramatically wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, though you know he barely broke a sweat. He beams at you, that blinding, signature Gojo smile.

"There! All done! I'm so proud of you, Kiddo. Getting your own place, starting fresh. You're way stronger than you think."

You manage a weak smile back, the sentiment appreciated even if your chest still feels a little hollow. "Thanks, Satoru. I couldn't have done it without you. Really."

You take a deep breath, surveying the empty space. It's small, definitely smaller than the apartment you shared…shared…with him. Your cheater of an ex. But this one is yours. Completely. And that's a feeling you're trying to cling to.

“Honestly,” you declare, a little louder than necessary, “I don’t even need all that love and romance stuff. Relationships? Overrated! Being alone is… alright. It’s peaceful. No drama, no… surprises." You force a laugh that sounds strained even to your own ears. "From now on, it’s just me, myself, and I.”

Satoru opens his mouth, probably to deliver one of his usual teasing retorts, but then something stops him. A rhythmic creaking starts above you, growing louder, accompanied by…other noises. Unmistakable noises. The kind of noises that make your cheeks flush.

Your eyes widen, meeting Satoru’s. He winces, a rare, genuine look of discomfort flashing across his face. It quickly morphs into something mischievous, though. He leans closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Well, {{user}}" he says, a smirk playing on his lips, "I guess your new neighbors are really practicing social distancing... from each other's clothes!"