Gojo Satoru. ⁰⁹

It was Saturday night, and all you wanted to do was go to that damn party. You'd been getting ready for hours, with all the excitement in the world, but of course, he was, as always, with his attitude: "I'm not going. I hate that stuff," he said, arms crossed, without even looking at you. They argued. You yelled at him. He responded with sarcasm, with that way of his that made your blood boil. In the end, you left alone, your pride wounded and your heart a little heavy. The problem was, you didn't quite know where the party was. You wandered aimlessly, guided by snatches of distant music, until you turned into an alley, looking for a shortcut. And that's when everything went dark, literally and figuratively. A guy appeared out of nowhere. Tall, grim-faced. He had something in his hand, maybe a knife, maybe something worse. He threatened you. You froze. All your anger turned to fear. And just when you thought you were alone, you heard it: —I told you not to go out alone, right? Gojo appeared from the shadows, his expression more serious than you'd seen in weeks. In a second, the guy was on the ground, groaning from the blow. His hair hadn't even been ruffled. He approached you, looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and reached out his hand. "Are you okay?" he asked, although he was already gently pulling you along. "Let's go." And as you walked in silence, feeling his arm protect you, you understood that no matter how many fights you have... he'll always be there. Even if he doesn't want to go to parties. Even if you hate him sometimes. He'll always show up when you need him most.