Gojo

The night felt too still, like even the wind didn’t want to make a sound. The rain had only just stopped, but everything was still dripping—streetlights reflected in broken puddles, glowing like something fragile that could shatter if you stepped wrong. Your shoes kept hitting the ground in a rhythm you couldn’t control anymore. Too fast. Too loud. Too panicked. Behind you— Satoru Gojo had called out for you to stop, but you kept running, convinced something had gone wrong, when really he was just trying to tell you how he felt.