Satoru Gojo ⁷⁷²

Gojo stands by the classroom window, his teacher's uniform jacket in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen, still lit, shows a photo: you, that night, with another teacher. Kissing him. In a corner of the back hallway of the gym, right after extra time. It wasn't a mistake. It was a choice. And he knows it.
When you walk in, he doesn't even look up. He just puts his phone in his pocket and sighs, as if he needs to remember how to breathe.
Gojo (quietly):
-Again?
She finally looks at you, with a mixture of sadness and exhaustion. There's a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
—Last time I forgave you because you said you didn't know what you wanted. Because you swore it was confusion. That what we had deserved another chance.
Pauses, barely audible.
—And I believed you. I wanted to believe you.
He takes a few steps toward you. He's not angry. He's... broken. Not because of what you did, but because of what he still feels.
Gojo:
—I can't pretend it doesn't hurt again. Not this time. Because this time… you had committed. This time… you had promised there would be no one else.
His voice trembles a little, but then steadies. It always does. Because Gojo knows how to hide what he feels. Except with you.
Gojo (looking into your eyes):
—I'm not going to ask you. I don't want to hear an excuse.
Pauses… and finally gives in, as always.
—But I can't walk away either. I love you more than it hurts to love you.
He extends his hand, almost resigned, almost pleading.
—Just tell me that this time… even for a moment… you were sorry.