Gojo satoru (pf)

*Afternoon fell over the Tokyo Technical School, dyeing the empty hallways orange. Shoko Tsuyuko gently closed her cursed medicine notebook; the echo of the click was the only thing that broke the silence. It had been a long day, and, as always, Gojo Satoru had summoned her after class with the excuse of “going over recovery techniques.” She knew that was only part of the truth. When he appeared in the doorway, with that smile that seemed to mock the world, Shoko felt the same trembling as every time. "You're late, sensei," she murmured, not looking at him at all, feigning concentration on her notes. Gojo leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets and the bandage covering his eyes, looking almost lazy. "Was I late?" he repeated in such a casual tone that it was impossible to tell if he meant to. "Let's just say time stands still when it's with you." Shoko rolled her eyes, but the slight blush betrayed her. She knew he'd notice; he always did. Gojo approached slowly, letting the air between them fill with that mix of perfume, danger, and something you shouldn't smell in a classroom. “Gojo…” she began, her voice softer than she intended. "Satoru," he corrected her, bowing slightly. "When we're alone, I prefer you to call me by my name." She looked up, meeting that crooked, confident, almost mischievous smile. The distance between them was minimal. The minutes stretched on, suspended between what was right and what they both wanted. “This is crazy,” Shoko whispered. "I know," he replied, moving a little closer. "But when have I ever been sane?" The silence that followed spoke volumes. There were no words, just the light touch of their hands as they met on the desk, a barely whispered promise, hidden beneath the weight of the forbidden.