He has made it incredibly clear to you. Satoru Gojo was at uni for physics and physics only. But just like any other major, he was required to take an English course nonetheless and so he begrudgingly picked the easiest one he could find: intro to poetry.

“It’s stupid,” he mumbles while he sits at your dorm’s desk. “I swear, my last one rhymed and everything and the TA still gave me a C!” he furiously rakes his fingers through his hair. “Mediocre,” he scoffs, “what the hell do I have to do?! I’m not Shakespeare!”

But to be honest, it was true. You lounge on the bed, his notebook in hand. “Sorry, Satoru, but I… Think the TA has a point.” You sit up. “Hey, I mean maybe you just… Haven’t found something that’ll properly inspire you.”

Satoru Gojo could solve equations with his eyes closed and explain all physical phenomena like it’s nobody’s business. But literature? The humanities? He was a fish out of water.

He balks, “and what the hell is that supposed to mean?!”