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Assistant: Title: crimson supernova
        Author: serenadewave serenadewave 
        Chapter: 5/30 
        Summary: "You don't know what you're talking about," Suguru says dismissively, his voice laced with quiet indifference and a hint of irritation. The deliberate clink of books and pens echoes in the stillness, a subtle reminder of the distance he’s putting between them. His gaze flickers toward Satoru. "And get off my desk."
  Satoru’s lips curl into a smug smile as he rolls his tongue over the lollipop hanging lazily from his mouth. Unbothered, his eyes sparkle with mischief. "Or what, Professor?"
ORIt started out as a game, just something for Satoru to pass the time in lectures so as not to go insane. Really, that's all it was. How the hell it managed to erupt and morph into this, Satoru has no idea.
        Contents: Chapter 5: newton's first law of motion
    

    


      
        
          i really like this one :)) hope you guys do too!!!!
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
     newton’s first law of motion   — a body continues in its state of constant velocity (which may be zero)  unless it is acted upon by an external force. 
  Satoru

   May 9, 2021 
Satoru finds himself drifting a lot. His mind is a vast ocean and he’s merely a leaf fluttering into it, unmoored and floating aimlessly, carried along by turbulent currents that shift without warning. Maybe he’s conditioned himself to zone out whenever he is even remotely disinterested in what’s happening around him because it happens unconsciously and far too often to be normal.Tonight, his mind makes him hone in on the intricate design of his chopsticks. The main dark wood that they are made of is perfectly polished and smooth. The top third, though, is decorated with delicate strokes of Sakura branches, wisps of pink blossoms floating in the breeze, and cranes mid-flight, their wings spread wide. It reminds him of those elaborate folding screens his family used to have in the old tea room. If Satoru really squints, he can see details as minuscule as the individual feathers of the cranes. They’re gorgeous, really; his parents must have had them specially ordered. Is Geto Suguru rich?  Satoru thinks, the question popping into his head randomly. He must be making some money from those books and the pay from the university can’t be terrible. Satoru should ask him for recommendations on where to eat. Even better, he should ask him out right after as a joke; that’s sure to get a good reaction out of—“Satoru.”He lifts his head from the chopsticks, eyes flicking between his mother and father across the dinner table for a few seconds. “What?”“Did you hear what I said?” his father asks. There’s that usual impatience to his clipped tone that Satoru has come to expect. One wrong move, a little bit of pressure in the wrong place and everything in a kilometre radius is blown to shreds. “Uh…” Satoru glances down at his mushroom ankake for a moment. He pushes a fried tofu back and forth a couple of times. “Don’t pay attention, Homare,” his mother says with a shake of her head. “He’s clearly distracted. Do you want to share what’s on your mind, Satoru?”Satoru bites the inside of his cheek to fight back a smile at the first response that comes to his head. He can’t exactly say he’s thinking of asking his professor out on a fake date. That’s a joke his parents are probably not going to understand.“Just school.” He shovels some mushrooms and a bamboo shoot into his mouth. “I got 100% on my kinematics midterm, by the way. Got the grade back earlier.”“Good.”More silence. Some scraping of luxury chopsticks on fragile porcelain plates. A clear of the throat. “So,” his father starts, “have you given any thought to getting a girlfriend?”Satoru nearly choked on a mushroom stem that was sliding down his throat at the exact moment that he heard the words. His father always had this incredible innate ability to drop things on him without warning, speaking as weightlessly as if he were mentioning the weather.“Uh, no. No time. Plus, I don’t really want a relationship right now.”It’s the same answer he’s given a dozen times, whenever the subject comes up—which it does, more often than he’d like. What he doesn’t say—what he can’t say—is that any girl who seems remotely interesting to him ends up being nothing more than a fleeting distraction. A one-night stand at best, something to fill the empty spaces for a little while before he moves on. Nothing ever sticks because nothing ever feels worth the effort. His life is too complicated, too twisted by expectations and obligations. There’s no room for anyone else in it, especially not someone he doesn’t truly care about or who won’t take the time to really understand him.Sometimes, Satoru wonders if he’s even meant to fit together with someone perfectly, aligned like the universe itself intended for it.He knows that’s not what his parents want to hear. To them, a relationship isn’t about connection or compatibility. It means stability, an eventual marriage, an heir to continue the Gojo legacy. The sooner the better, too. It’s all part of their perfect vision for him.“Well, you’ll get the opportunity to meet a few lovely girls at the event this Friday. It’s not too late to start thinking about who you’re going to settle down with after university.”Satoru clenches his jaw, eyes burning into his food like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. His chest is tight all of a sudden, squeezing in that hopeless, merciless way. He needs to breathe more and get air into his needy lungs, but they're shaky and uncertain and maybe he needs to stop eating the food because his stomach is starting to flip.Forcing a polite smile, Satoru quietly says, “I’ll be there, but I don’t know if I’ll be making connections with anybody, Dad.”His father’s eyes narrow slightly, chopsticks pausing mid-air. “You need to start taking this seriously, Satoru. You’re not getting any younger and people are starting to notice things.”“Notice what?” Satoru’s voice slips into something more defensive, an edge to it that he usually doesn’t let show around his parents. It’s never worth it getting into arguments, especially when they have the power to take away what keeps him sane. Still, his father’s words light a spark within him, a tiny flicker of a flame that refuses to die down this time.His mother speaks up with her usual delicate tone. “That you have not been as involved as you should be. We’re not asking for much, Satoru, just that you keep your options open. A relationship doesn’t have to be about love right away. It’s about finding someone who complements you, brings stability, and will be by your side as you move up the ladder.”“I’ll be fine on my own.” Satoru pushes his food around mindlessly, all appetite completely gone. “I don’t want somebody I don’t care about being paraded around just because it makes me look better.”“Watch your tone, Satoru,” his father cuts in. “This isn’t just about you. You have responsibilities to uphold to keep the Gojo legacy alive.”Satoru meets his father’s gaze head-on, the flame burning brighter, hotter. “Yeah, responsibilities I never  asked  f—” “Enough, Satoru. You don’t know how lucky you are. I know your mother and I did not spend nearly twenty-one years raising a son who is this ungrateful.”The silence that follows is oppressive in its own unique way. Satoru thinks that maybe this is what being in a black hole feels like—the air gets snuffed out, all the way to the point where it feels like there’s absolutely no oxygen left to keep his heart pumping. It’s so terribly quiet and there’s a fire under his skin that will overtake him at any moment, disfiguring him into something unrecognizable.Or, maybe it’s a little bit more like drowning. Satoru’s never been swimming, so he imagines dying in the water would entail kicking his feet desperately, scrambling for even the smallest breath of air, panic and the knowledge that  I am about to die clouding his mind as his vision darkens.Yeah, this is like that.If Satoru was sure that getting up from the table and making a dramatic exit like a petulant child wouldn’t earn him a punishment, he would leave. Instead, he forces the rest of the food down his tight throat, swallowing despite feeling as though every bite is going to be the last he’ll manage.His parents shift the conversation to some trip they’re going to take to the United States in September— oh, San Francisco will be lovely, I wonder if the Kamos will join us this year since the Zenins aren’t able —but Satoru zones out again.This time, his attention is fixed solely on his philosophy professor. He constructs the perfect outfit in his head that he can wear tomorrow to catch Suguru’s eye. It’s something a lot flashier than what he usually goes for, but he barely feels any inclination to bow down to boundaries right now.The thoughts of his game set him adrift away from the present once more, carrying him somewhere a lot more pleasant.—
  Suguru

   May 10, 2021 
The lecture hall is its usual bustling nest of students talking animatedly, laughing, or working silently, hunkered down in front of their laptops before the lecture starts. The constant buzz fills Suguru’s head perfectly. He doesn’t usually come this early with over ten minutes still left before it’s time to start talking, but he thought this change of scenery might finally help him get something down.A dark bang falls into Suguru’s eyes and hides part of the piece of paper from view, which is fine because there is nothing written on it. It’s blinding in its emptiness, stark white against the polished dark surface of the desk. It makes him want to look away for the millionth time and convince himself that he’s going to come back to it later more successfully. His pen hovers just millimetres above the first line, slightly to the right of the margin. Suguru searches through his mind, his heart.In the end, he comes up blank. There’s nothing to grab, nothing to look at, nothing to explore. The crevices of the mind that people praise so much are empty; what will they think when another two years pass and he still doesn’t put out anything of value? He could use the excuse that he’s been busy with teaching and other matters, maybe, but he’s never been a very good liar. Ultimately,  inevitably, Suguru sighs and puts his pen down. He’ll try music again, or go somewhere even busier. Not right now, though. Maybe later. Maybe tomorrow.He runs a hand through his hair and looks up for the first time to scan the lecture hall. Attendance is still very good, which is a blessing considering he constantly hears other professors complaining about how less than half of the students still show up. There’s a group of kids in the top left corner laughing uncontrollably at something, their shrill sounds echoing off the wooden walls of the hall. Someone around the middle looks deeply engrossed in a thick book. A couple of gazes are begging to meet his, but he skims past as he usually d—Suguru’s eyes catch on hair as white as the piece of paper he struggled to give value to.  Without permission, they flick down to look at the black translucent blouse that hangs off broad shoulders and shows off the body underneath, matching the equally dark pants hugging long legs.And, of course, Gojo Satoru's blue,  blue eyes are staring right at Suguru. Suguru allows himself a second longer of looking and ends the contact with a tight-lipped smile and a slight nod. The break doesn’t last long, though. Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru sees Gojo dump his bag onto an empty seat in the very front row and start heading over to him.  Of course, because there’d be something wrong if that kid didn’t try to talk to Suguru at every opportunity. It would be endearing, maybe, in a world where Gojo isn’t so obviously trying to achieve something very specific.Against his strongest urges to start class seven minutes early, Suguru takes a deep breath and forces himself to face Gojo once he comes into close range. The neurons carrying his thoughts are used to jumbled messes and disjointed pathways, but they short-circuit without fail every time Suguru properly looks at Gojo's eyes.Like crystal shores of white-sand beaches, clear skies of sunny, otherworldly lands, like an endless garden of blue hydrangea and gentle wings of morpho butterflies.Suguru would say something if it weren’t so painfully inappropriate. Even in passing as a loose compliment, it’s too much, too far. It’s dipping your toe into ice-cold water, knowing it’s going to burn but being shocked by the seizing sensation anyway. He can’t.With a clear of his throat, Suguru says, “Good morning, Gojo-san.”Gojo smiles in that unique way that belongs to nobody else. Suguru has seen a lot of smiles from students—nervous, eager, anxious to impress—but Gojo's is different. It's amused, almost mocking. Unserious. It already feels as though he stands out wherever he goes and his carefree nature, his own private joke, just amplifies that. “Morning, Professor.” He walks right up to the desk and rests his arms on it, leaning forward on them ever so slightly. It’s too familiar of an action to be normal but that’s how it is with this student. Too comfortable, too…pushy. Suguru starts arranging the paper on his desk in neater piles. “I was wondering when the grades are going to be released for the paper.”“By the end of the week,” Suguru replies, voice even. “I mentioned it last week. Twice. Were you listening?”“Oh, I’m sorry, Professor. It’s hard for me to remember details sometimes.”Suguru hums softly. Gojo studies astrophysics at one of the best universities in Japan; having trouble remembering is likely not the issue. He picks up the pen again and clicks it a few times before meeting Satoru’s persistent gaze. “You should probably work on that. Maybe you can try taking more notes.”“I take plenty of notes.”“Really? It doesn’t look like that to me while I’m lecturing.”Gojo c@cks his head. “Oh, I didn't realize I was drawing your attention so much.”Suguru’s stomach swoops, dipping in that unexpected nature that leaves him confused and vulnerable for a moment. He's had to deal with persistent students before, but Gojo is really taking the prize for being the most on the nose of them all. The confidence is admirable even if it is perplexing and grossly misplaced. “Well, you do sit in the very front row, and your appearance isn’t exactly standard.”“Not exactly standard, huh?” Gojo repeats. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Geto-san.”God, is he like this with everyone? Playing with every boundary there is like it’s nothing, testing which ones are malleable and which ones need to be brought to the point of shattering. “It wasn’t meant as a compliment,” Suguru says slowly, as if the message to stop doing whatever it is that Gojo is doing will come across clearer this way. It feels like screaming into the void, though, his intentions lost immediately. “Oh, I don’t mind, Professor. Attention’s attention, right?”Suguru exhales softly, twirling the pen now between his fingers. “You might want to reconsider that philosophy. Some attention isn’t worth pursuing.”With a shrug, Gojo leans back from the desk. “Maybe.” His cerulean eyes gleam, sparkling in the fluorescent lights of the lecture hall like polished diamonds, shards of glass catching the shine on sharp, dangerous edges.“Is there anything else you need?” Suguru glances at the clock. Only three minutes left before the lecture starts. “I’d like to get ready before I start.”“Of course, of course.” Gojo's glossy lips pull up into another loose smile and he tucks his hands into his pocket, the thin material of the black blouse pulling taut against his skin. “I’ll catch you during office hours at some point."“I’m sure you will,” Suguru says, looking away from Gojo for the last time. There’s a bloated pause in which Gojo stays exactly where he is, seemingly waiting for something that he doesn’t end up receiving. He turns on his heel and walks away, Converse shoes tapping softly on the old wooden floor. Suguru rolls out his shoulders and starts skimming the notes he has on today. Divine origin of the imperial line, animism, an introduction to Shintou tradition. Simple enough; these are concepts he’s written about, discussed, and analyzed a hundred times before.Suguru walks out from behind the desk and steps to the front of the room. The students quiet down, the atmosphere shifting as they ready themselves for the lecture. Suguru narrows his mind, letting his voice cut through the room with its usual clarity and confidence. Divine origins. Animism. Shintou tradition. Gojo's intrusive presence lingers at the edge of his thoughts for several moments too long. The haze doesn’t go away immediately, stubborn as the deepest shadows that sunlight can’t quite reach as fast at daybreak.To Gojo's credit, he is actually taking notes, but that doesn’t interrupt his usual routine of lazy smiles, handed over to Suguru while he’s slumped back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. Looks that are too intimate and inappropriate are sent his way like tokens in a game, currency in exchange for something desired. He’s challenging and demanding, as always. Suguru gets lost in the subject enough to forget. Teaching is an ocean; the further he gets from the shore, the deeper he goes, the easier it is to dissociate from everything else. By the end of the lecture when he tucks his earbuds into his ears and turns the volume up, Gojo is no longer anything more than a distant thought, minor as leftover dew hanging off leaves after a shower.—
  Satoru

   May 13, 2021 
Satoru splashes ice-cold water onto his face, relishing in the refreshing sensation that he savours after every practice. He lets the water drip down for a few moments longer before running his hands through the damp, sweaty strands of hair that stick stubbornly to his forehead. With a hasty glance at the mirror, he tries to smooth it back into something that resembles presentable. His parents would be mortified if they knew their son was going out looking like this. The locker room buzzes with the usual sounds of people packing up, the clink of metal lockers shutting, zippers dragging over gym bags. Teammates congratulate each other on a good practice before shuffling out and heaving tired sighs as they head home. Satoru’s mind is already far from the basketball court—he’s focused on the night ahead and the izakaya that he’s going to hit up with Shoko, Kento, Utahime, and Yu. It’s the first time the five of them are able to spend some time together in a while and it’s going to be the perfect distraction to take Satoru’s mind off of tomorrow.Satoru can already feel the weight of the business meeting holding him down like stones in the pockets of his perfectly tailored dress pants. Less than twenty-four hours away, it looms over him mercilessly, not letting him forget for a moment about what’s coming. He does his best to push it to the side for now, though, and give himself an opportunity to have fun.Tonight, he’s just Satoru, a guy with friends who like him for reasons that have nothing to do with business, wealth, or responsibility.Tomorrow, he’ll be the heir to the Gojo empire.Satoru tugs a fresh T-shirt over his head and a jacket on top—it’s his favourite, the one with the Kanji for “Limitless” printed onto the back with stylized strokes. After picking up his bag, he finally walks out of the locker room.Anticipation bubbles in his chest steadily, brewing excitement for the night. Maybe Shoko will drag them into a karaoke bar later. Kento will probably insist they try the unique items on the menu. Yu will definitely get way too excited about the food and scarf big portions down with Utahime helping him eagerly.Satoru’s footsteps echo in the silent, empty hallway of the athletic building as he makes his way to the exit. He always loved the feeling of the university late in the evening when everyone had more or less gone home. It’s so perfectly serene to match the comfortable buzz in his head.The warm evening air envelops him tightly when he pushes on the double doors of the exit and steps outside. The sun is well on its way down, casting long shadows across campus. It’s not long before he spots his friends sitting on one of the many green patches. “Finally,” Shoko says with a puff of her cigarette once he reaches them. “Took you long enough.”Yu is bouncing up and down with excitement that is nearly tangible. “Izakaya time! I’ve been craving yakitori all week, we have to order all the types they have.”“You say that every time, Yu, and we always have too much,” Kento remarks as they start making their way to Nezu station. “No, I’m extra hungry tonight. Everything is getting eaten, don’t worry.”Their chatter fills the silent paths of the campus, with most students either tucked away in dorms or out in the city for the night already. Topics flow in and out of conversation seamlessly, the usual banter and carefree nature settling over them. “Yo,” Shoko says at one point as they’re passing through the engineering section of the university. “Guess what, guys? Ken’s got a  date coming up.”“Whoa!” Satoru exclaims at the same time as Utahime and Yu. “No way! With who?”The tips of Kento’s ears burn a furious shade of red, but he smiles softly and says, “Just this girl who works at a bakery near my apartment building. I finally worked up the courage to ask her on a date.”“That’s so exciting, man, congrats!”“No, no, it’s nothing. We’ll see how it goes.”Satoru is about to inquire something else about this mystery girl when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He dissociates momentarily from the lively conversation and fishes it out. He’s expecting a message from another girl asking when he’s free or his parents reminding him yet again about tomorrow, but his heart jolts slightly in his chest at what’s staring back at him. Your grade for  Essay #3: Morality and Kant Philosophy has been updated. The noise around Satoru suddenly fades into distant muffled chatter. Even while everything inside of him clenches uncomfortably, Satoru forces his thumb to tap on the notification. The page loads awfully slowly, giving Satoru ample time to think of every possible outcome. Suguru said he liked it, so he should see something high. He’s the type of professor to grade harshly, after all. Considering all of the changes Satoru made, there’s no way he got anything less than a 95%. That’s sure to raise his overall grade enough to where he can—The score pops up, two numbers that instantly mix with his blood and travel through him, spreading a seizing, overbearing chill. Satoru blinks several times and stops walking.87%.A pit forms in Satoru’s stomach, deep and cold. His heart rate shoots up. Disappointed words from his parents whisper in his ears, reminding him of how much of a failure he is.
   No, no way. How…? 
 He said he liked it. “Satoru?”His friends have paused their conversation, looking back at him with worry written all over their faces. Satoru’s mouth is stuffed with cotton, threads of mortification and confusion weaving a thickness he can’t speak past. 87%. With his appetite slipping away, the excitement for the night goes with it. He can’t bother thinking about good food and company and relaxation when this  87% is going to be looming over his head the entire time. What is he going to do when he gets home and his parents inevitably ask to check his UTOL account for new grades? “Hey, what’s wrong?” Kento asks softly.Satoru licks his dry lips and turns off his phone, shutting away the grade so he doesn’t have to see it again. There it is, though, floating at the front of his mind, clinging to him like a parasite. “Um…I, uh…I can’t come tonight. I have to go do something very important.”His friends exchange confused glances while Satoru backs up. He needs to go talk to Suguru. He needs to go find a way to fix this because he did everything right this time. Suguru said he liked his paper.
   How did he get…? 
“Dude, what’s going on?” Utahime presses. “You’re scaring us.”“I got a bad grade on my paper, I…I need to go talk to my professor.”Kento frowns. “You’re ditching us because of a bad grade?”“You know what my parents are going to think, Ken. I have to figure this out. I’m so sorry, but I’ll make it up to you. I’ll catch up with you guys later. Go without me.”Satoru starts jogging away, back towards where the liberal arts building is located.“Satoru—”“I’m serious, go!” he calls over his shoulder. When he put away his phone, it was 5:49. It must be a few minutes later now, but if he hurries, he’ll make it across campus in time to catch Suguru in his office. “Text me where you’re at and I’ll come!”With those final words, Satoru drops his reassuring smile and starts running back to where they came from.
   Please still be there. 

   Please. 
—
  Suguru

   May 13, 2021 
“I want you with your honest eyes, if it’s the dream you saw…”Suguru nods his head and half-heartedly murmurs the lyrics of the 80's song playing in his ears. His pen drags lazily across the sheet of paper in front of him, creating the shape of what vaguely resembles a cartoon dog. Seeing as no worthy words have surfaced, he has nothing better to do. The student asking for comprehension help left half an hour ago—barely left, really; it was so obvious she was looking for an excuse to stay longer—and he already released the grades for the papers. So, with just a few minutes left of his office hours, Suguru devotes it to giving the dog a mismatching set of ears. “If you give me your heart, floating in the air…”Maybe he could try his own apartment. He’s always felt it was a vacuum for creativity, sucking out everything inside of him that still had potential for something.  More than anything, though, it’s too quiet. Suguru needs noise, a buzz to conceal what he doesn’t care to dwell on.“Endless summer with closed eyes, in the time without you, the phone call I made…”Suguru glances at the time—5:58 PM. He might as well call it and go home. Maybe a trip to the cafe outside the building would help clear his mind. He could grab a pastry, sit outside, enjoy the evening breeze. That sounds better than staring at empty pages in an equally empty room.He slams his notebook shut unceremoniously and shoves it into his bag, then reaches for his coat on the hangar to tug it on.“I can’t explain why, showing a little—”
   Knockknockknockknockknock. 
Suguru blinks, pulling his earbuds out and frowning slightly at the door. Seriously? Now? With literal seconds left until 6:00 PM? He fights the urge to roll his eyes and is about to invite whoever it is to come in, but he doesn't even get the chance. His door is flying open the very next second and of course, who else can it be if not Satoru Gojo?White hair flying all over the place, so different than the usual pristine way it sits on his head. Bright eyes blown wide and full of panic. Breaths loud and needy within four otherwise silent walls.“Professor,” Gojo pants, leaning against the doorframe for a second to catch his breath before rushing in fully. “Thank God I caught you. I need to talk to you.”“Gojo-san, office hours are over,” Suguru says calmly, gesturing toward the clock. “Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow.”Gojo shakes his head, stepping further into the room with a wild urgency that catches Suguru off-guard. “No, it can’t.” His hands are trembling slightly, slender fingers unsure of their purpose. “Okay…what is it, then?”“I just, um…” Gojo trails off. He clasps his hands together, unlasps them, darts his eyes around the room. He almost seems like a completely different person from the one who was sending him much too carefree looks earlier. “I guess…how do I start? You…you said you liked my paper."Suguru stuffs his hands into his pockets and leans back against his desk. “Your one on Kant? Yeah, I did.”“But…I’m just a little bit confused because you gave me an 87%.”“87% is a very high grade, Gojo-san,” Suguru says carefully, slowly. “It was a well-written paper.”Gojo shakes his head, something hopeless and desperate crossing across the shallow shorelines of his blue eyes. “Is there a way I can, like, edit it and hand it in again to get a higher score?”“Well, if you read my syllabus, you’d know I don’t take in redone assignments.” Suguru sighs softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Gojo-san, I can’t change your grade just because you don’t like it. The grade reflects the work submitted.”“I  know, but…okay, is there some kind of extra credit work I can complete? I know there are still assignments left in the term, but I want to do as much as I can for the grade to be perfect.”“Nothing is—” “I  have to be perfect!” Gojo blurts loud and fractured, words catching and cracking. After a swollen,  strained few seconds, he runs his hand through his dishevelled hair. “F@ck, I’m sorry for interrupting, and-and for the language, I just…I need to get a perfect score. I thought your class was going to be a breeze and I’m doing terribly and I cannot afford that. You-you don’t know how much I can’t afford that.”Suguru watches him break down and peel apart more and more, the words finally settling in. There’s no smirking, no flirtatious comments, none of the usual bravado that Gojo parades around like second skin. He’s afraid, a mouse caught in a trap. “Okay,” Suguru starts. He gives himself a moment to compose all of his thoughts, figure out the best course of action. Right now, Gojo seems too fragile to turn away and send home. A vase about to tip over and shatter, a pebble skittering too close to the edge of a precipice. “How about, um…you know what? How about you come with me down to Hinata’s Coffee right outside? You can get some fresh air and we can talk things over. If you’d like.”Gojo fingers the edges of his slightly too-large jacket. “Right now? Are you sure?”“Yeah, why not? I was about to go anyway, I’ve had enough of this stifling office.”Wordlessly, Gojo picks up the bag he had dumped onto the floor and wrings his fingers as Suguru finishes gathering his own things. Silence with Gojo here is a lot different than when Suguru is on his own. He wouldn't even say it’s silent,  not in the traditional sense of the word. There’s a new nagging at the back of Suguru’s mind and pressure in the air and so much space taken up by the loud,  vibrant existence of Gojo. Suguru doesn’t say anything, just grabs everything he needs and leads them out of the office.Gojo falls into step closely alongside Suguru as they walk, keeping his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The anxiety rolling off of Gojo in thick, suffocating waves keeps Suguru from saying anything to lighten the mood; he decides to let Gojo calm down on his own a little bit before he prods for answers as to why he is suddenly so untethered or offers solutions. Their synced footsteps are the only sound echoing through the halls of the liberal arts building until they step outside and are greeted with the gentle hum of life.A hard left and ten more steps take them to the neon-lit entrance of Hinata’s. Suguru heads right for the window set up on the side instead of going in and immediately begins skimming the menu. Unfortunately, nothing seems very appetizing anymore, but he decides on a Hokkaido cheese tart.“What do you want?” Suguru asks as he fishes his wallet out. Gojo freezes, pointing at himself with a puzzled look on his face. “Me? Is that…allowed?” Probably not. “Yeah, it’s fine. My treat.”Gojo hesitates but approaches the menu after a second, taking almost no time to pick out a cup of matcha tiramisu. He mutters a soft thank you, the words fluttering uncertainly in the air before drifting off and getting lost.Once their orders are ready, they find a bench a little ways away from the cafe, far enough from the bustle of students hovering around it. The streetlights cast a warm glow over the quiet pathway. Suguru clears his throat and starts opening the little red box his cheese tart is packed in, ignoring the way his heart has picked up speed, pumping like it’s a d@mn competition all of a sudden.“So, do you want to tell me why you’re so worked up about 87%? You don’t have to, by the way, just…maybe there’s something I can do to ease the pressure.”Gojo shovels a giant spoonful of the matcha tiramisu into his mouth and chews for a long time, staring holes into the stone wall of the building in front of them. “Not really. It’s just my parents. They want me to be perfect.”“Well, everybody’s parents have high expectations for them.”Gojo shakes his head, a bitter edge to his words when he says, “No, no, you don’t understand. They are…they demand everything.  They’ve been drilling excellence into me since I was probably old enough to crawl. They have a very specific vision for me that I’m already not fulfilling because I chose to study astrophysics instead of business and I’m playing basketball in my free time instead of getting involved with their  stupid  company.” Suguru’s hands still halfway up to his mouth with the tart as he watches Gojo unravel, threads coming apart and weaving anew. “If I don’t get the best grades, they have the potential to ruin my life. They’ll pull me out of basketball or even…even make me switch majors.”“I’m sure they wouldn’t—”“They would.” Gojo finally faces Suguru and the look he gives is so raw that it’s almost a whiplash. “They absolutely would. I-I already know I’ll have to give up everything when I’m done here, but I just can’t risk getting it all taken away from me early.” Gojo's eyes gloss over, the surfaces becoming shiny with the light of the streetlamp a few paces down the pathway. “I  have to be perfect. I can’t disappoint them any further when I’m already pushing on so many boundaries.”The air between them is charged, crackling with Gojo's words. Neither says anything for a few minutes. This is…strange. In the month and a half that Suguru has known Gojo, he has worn arrogance like a well-fitted suit, the most natural thing in the world. To Suguru, Gojo has been a storm cloud—flashing brilliance in one moment and then disappearing as quickly as it came, never leaving anything behind but a memory of thunder. Remarkable in his own brief intensity, but ultimately inconsequential like everybody else.Yet now, Gojo is coming apart before his very eyes, dimmed by something a lot deeper that Suguru wasn’t aware of. It doesn’t match the smug, unserious Satoru Gojo that he’s come to expect. It’s a clock suddenly ticking backward, the moon rising in place of the sun.“I’m sorry,” is what Suguru comes up with eventually. It's lame and meaningless, but what else is he supposed to say? “I’m sorry you’re dealing with that. That sounds...really tough.” “Yeah, you don’t even know the half of it.” Gojo absentmindedly scoops tiramisu onto his spoon and lazily brings it up to his mouth. “I’m sorry for barging into your office like that. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve been able to get away with the bad grades in your class so far, but I feel like another one is going to make them snap. I’m not  stupid, I know I can do it.”“You absolutely can. I understand you may not be used to the types of assignments I hand out, but I am more than one hundred percent sure that you are just as capable as any other student in my classes to excel.” Suguru doesn’t miss the small smile on Gojo's face before the younger man dips his head. “I can’t change your grade, but…you just have to find the inspiration. Writing doesn’t only reflect what you know and what you don’t. It’s also about what you feel. The next assignment is a free write, so you can use the opportunity to discuss a text you’re passionate about. If you find the drive, I guarantee the words will come easier.”Gojo nods. “Yeah, okay. I can do that. I, um…is there a way you can, like, tutor me or something? I’m sorry, I’m sure you have a very busy schedule but I think I’ll need all the help I can get.”“Well, you know where my office is, so stop by and I’ll be there to help you out.”“And, I was serious about the extra credit. If there’s ever anything I can do, please let me know.”“I will, don’t worry.”“Thank you, Professor.” Gojo's smile widens and before Suguru can register it, he’s kicking his leg out and tapping the toe of his shoe against Suguru’s softly. “I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me.”Suguru clears his throat and shifts on the bench, tucking his legs underneath it and crossing them. He stuffs the rest of his cheese tart into his mouth. “Not a problem, I’m glad I was able to help.” For a while, they say nothing. Suguru toys with the edges of his box while glancing sideways at Gojo periodically. He notices the way his posture releases all the tightness that was there moments ago, melting like ice under blistering sun, the way his breathing evens out and he returns from teetering at the edge of a breakdown. Suguru is surprised to find that he isn’t exactly in a hurry to get home. He should definitely conclude this likely very inappropriate meeting as soon as possible, but it does beat the stuffy confines of his apartment. Minutes tick by before Gojo pulls out his phone, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his face. He fiddles with it for a moment, tapping and swiping, then lifts it toward the sky.Suguru frowns at the movement, curiosity pricking at him. “What are you doing?”“Looking at the stars.” Gojo's voice is strained with his head tilted all the way back. The phone screen hovers directly over his face. The way he weaves the words comes off so naturally, almost as if the Gods created them for Satoru Gojo to utter exclusively. “Since we can’t see them, I have to use this app. It’s actually really cool. It knows my exact coordinates, so what it’s showing me is really what’s there.”“Oh, wow, that  is cool.”“Right? Do you want to see?”“Uh, yeah, sure, if you…” Suguru trails off as Gojo scoots all the way down the bench, closing the already small distance between them in a matter of a second. His breath catches in his throat unexpectedly when the warmth of Gojo's body wraps around Suguru, their thighs pressing gently against each other, their shoulders brushing as Gojo raises his arm to swipe at his screen. Suguru adjusts, trying to push himself into the side of the bench as much as possible before tilting his head up and attempting to focus solely on Gojo's phone.“So, if you look here, you’ve got Ursa Minor and Ursa Major hanging out. Those are the famous ones.” Gojo zooms out, capturing more of the darkening sky. “Most of the planets should be below the horizon right now, but I think…” He turns around on the bench and points his phone behind them. “Yeah, see? There’s Mars!”“That’s pretty sweet,” Suguru comments, eyes flicking from the phone screen to Gojo's face without permission. He looks enchanted, every bit of tension from their earlier conversation gone and replaced with wonder. “What star sign are you?” Gojo suddenly asks, tearing his gaze away from the phone and meeting Suguru’s. Suguru leans away as soon as he registers the ridiculous proximity between them. He looks down the path briefly, checking for anyone who might see them. They seem to be the only ones around for now but that does very little to slow down Suguru’s heart. A static buzzes in his ears when he looks back at Gojo.“Um…Aquarius, I think,” he forces out.“Ah, d@mn. That’s not one you can see right now.” Gojo untwists his body to face forward again. “Anyway, what else? Hercules is a cool one, check it out. This constellation actually looks like what it’s named after. That’s rare. In my opinion, at least. Um…oh, this one’s my favourite, Hydra. Look how long it is. It’s actually the biggest constellation we have.” Suguru is about to make a comment about the intriguing name but Gojo lights up again, possibly brighter than all of these far-off objects he’s so excited about. “Look! This is Centaurus! You can’t see all of it right now, but this is where Proxima Centauri is.” Suguru shoots him a puzzled look. “That’s the closest star to us. Still super far away, obviously, but it’s technically our neighbour.”“Wow, that’s…really interesting.” Gojo shrugs. He gazes up at his phone for another moment before shutting it off. There’s a bloated pause where they sit awfully close together until Gojo shuffles back to his side of the bench, though he doesn’t make it to the end. Were benches always this small? “Understanding space to the degree that you do is a bit unfathomable to me, so I think it’s really impressive.”Gojo smiles widely, eyes glimmering seemingly without the help of the artificial lighting around them. “Thank you, that means a lot. You know, you’re really good at this, Professor.”“Good at what?”“Being all comforting and calming me down. It’s almost like you care or something.”Suguru’s heart jolts, a wave of discomfort crashing into him. There’s the Satoru Gojo he knows, unrestrained and unapologetic and too much.  “I care about all my students, Gojo-san. It’s part of the job.”“Yeah, but I’m one of your favourites, right?”Suguru gives him a flat look before turning his eyes down to the small box he’s still clutching. “I don’t have favourites.”“I don’t know,” Gojo says, a melodic, teasing undertone to his words. “You let me interrupt your evening, bought me dessert, and you’ve been listening to me whine about personal issues and talk about stars for the last, what? Twenty, thirty minutes? Sounds like favouritism to me.”Always pushing, testing, playing. He says things like they hold no weight, like mentioning what he did this morning and saying something intimate meant for special moments are the same thing. It’s a cause for concern, really, a bright red flag marking disobedience and trouble that is most probably not worth it.“It’s not, Gojo-san. I was just trying to…ease your mind.”“You really did.” He pauses, letting the conversation dip into silence again before his eyes flick back over to Suguru. “You know, you don’t have to call me Gojo-san all the time.”“It’s respectful.”“Yeah, but it’s boring. You can call me Satoru, I don’t mind.”Suguru shakes his head and crosses his arms before Satoru is even finished speaking. There it is again, dropping such significant things into casual conversation like it doesn’t make a difference. Maybe it doesn’t, not to him. Everything seems to be a game to Gojo, anyway, and he’s the player who makes the choices.Suguru takes a deep breath before saying, “I won’t be doing that. It’s not appropriate.”“Okay, fine. Not Satoru. Maybe just Gojo, then?”Suguru clears his throat, rising to his feet and gesturing toward the path leading out of campus. “It’s getting late. I really should get back home.”“Right,” Gojo replies, clearly understanding the hint. He gets up and brushes himself off. “Thank you again, Professor, for talking with me. I’m sorry for holding you up.”Suguru slings his bag onto his shoulders and waves his hand back and forth dismissively. “Not at all. Like I said, happy to help.” There’s a brief moment when Suguru considers adding something else about Gojo's parents, a comment about how perfection is an illusion and he should find his own path in the world and he doesn’t need others to tell him how to live his life, but that would be overstepping, too much; he’s nothing like Gojo. Instead, he says, “Please let me know if you ever need help with future assignments. I’ll do what I can to help you succeed.”“I know.” Gojo beams and takes a step away from Suguru. “Thanks for the tiramisu. I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor. Have a good evening.”“Likewise.”Just like that, Suguru is alone again.He walks to the train station in silence, thinking about absolutely nothing and, for once, not putting his earbuds in until he steps onto Platform 2 of Todaimae station. The noisy hum surrounds him—the woman’s voice over the speakers announcing the oncoming train, the endless shuffle of footsteps echoing through the space, unwaveringly consistent like the ticking of a clock. Music drowns all of it out, as it always does. The emptiness of Suguru’s apartment is predictably palpable. It’s the kind of void that amplifies the sound of his own breathing, the rustle of his clothes as he drops his bag by the door, the faint squeak of the floorboards underfoot.Everything is as it always is, but this time, the memory of Gojo's blaring, shameless existence skimming too close to Suguru’s own quiet one lingers nearby.
  
  

    
      
        
        
          ehheheheh i love nerd Satoru. ngl they made me giggle and kick my feet in this chapterlet me know what you guys thought :) thanks so much for reading <33'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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