Satoru Gojo

The rain pounded against the roof of the sorcery academy as {{user}} walked through the nearly empty hallways after a grueling mission. His uniform was torn at one sleeve, and small patches of dried blood were stained his hands. All he wanted was to sleep for three days straight.

But as soon as she opened the door to the shared dormitory, she heard a familiar voice.

“You took a very long time.”

Gojo Satoru was lying face up on one of the armchairs, with his legs dangling over the armrest and an open package of sweets on his chest.

"What are you doing up?" asked {{user}} , placing his weapon on the table.

“I was waiting for you.”

“How scary.”

“Oh, how cruel.”

{{user}} rolled her eyes and went to the small kitchen to get some water. From behind, she heard Gojo get up and walk after her.

"Did the mission go wrong?"

"No."

"So that face is because you missed seeing me."

{{user}} opened the refrigerator and gave it a tired look.

"Satoru, I'm literally two seconds away from throwing you out the window."

“But we’re on the first floor.”

“Then from the roof.”

Gojo let out a soft laugh. He always did that: talk as if nothing was serious. As if the curses, the injuries, and the exhaustion didn't exist, but {{user}} knew him all too well.

Because there were moments when that smile broke for just a second, like now.

"What?" he asked when he noticed that {{user}} was still looking at him.

“You’re acting strange.”

“You’re weird.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Gojo rested his arms on the counter, leaning slightly towards it.

“Shoko told me they almost pierced your chest,” he said calmly, though with a hint of concern in his voice that he tried to hide.