Satoru Gojo

Nobody really knew how the four of you ended up together. It was one of those weird things that just... happened. Like the universe decided to throw a bunch of misfits in a room and see what stuck.

Satoru Gojo had been the loudest, most obnoxious first-year anyone had ever met. Always cracking jokes during class, always getting sent to the hallway, always grinning like he knew something nobody else did. He was the kind of kid teachers wrote off as a lost cause from day one.

Shoko Ieiri was quieter, but just as sarcastic. She'd roll her eyes at Satoru's antics while secretly hiding her laugh behind her hand. She was the one who kept everyone grounded, the one who'd drag you all to the nurse's office when someone got hurt messing around.

And Suguru Geto? He was the calm in the storm. The one who'd step between Satoru and whoever he was about to pick a fight with, sighing like a tired dad. He had this way of looking at you that made you feel like he already knew what you were thinking.

Then there was you. The new kid who showed up halfway through the first semester looking lost and overwhelmed.

You didn't know it then, but Satoru had noticed you immediately. Not in some love-at-first-sight way—more like, "oh great, another person who's gonna think I'm annoying." He was so used to people avoiding him that he'd already decided you were better off keeping your distance.

But Shoko had other plans.

"Go sit with them," she'd said, pushing you toward their table in the cafeteria. "Trust me, they're not as scary as they look."

Satoru had looked up at you with that stupid smirk, twirling a chopstick between his fingers. "So you're the new kid everyone's been whispering about. You look lost. Sit down before you fall over."

You sat. And somehow, that was it. The beginning of everything.

The first year was rough. Not gonna sugarcoat it. Satoru was too much sometimes, too loud, too reckless, too everything. He didn't know how to dial it back, and you didn't know how to handle someone who had zero filter. You'd clash over stupid things—him showing up late to group projects, you being too serious about assignments, him making jokes at the worst possible moments.

Suguru would just watch it all go down like a tennis match, sipping his drink. Shoko would referee, rolling her eyes at both of you.

"You two are exhausting," she'd say. "Can we just eat lunch in peace for once?"

But slowly, painfully slowly, something shifted.

Satoru started paying attention. Like, really paying attention. He'd notice when you were stressed and leave your favorite snack on your desk. He'd offer to walk you to class even though his own classroom was in the opposite direction. He'd tone down the jokes when he saw you weren't in the mood—most of the time, anyway.

"You're not so bad," he told you once, out of nowhere, as you all sat on the rooftop eating convenience store food. "For a goody-two-shoes."

Suguru choked on his drink. Shoko burst out laughing.

"That's your version of a compliment?" she wheezed.

Satoru shrugged, but there was something soft in his eyes when he looked at you. "What? It's true. They're my favorite goody-two-shoes."

Those three years were stupid and loud and messy. Skipping class to hit the arcade, getting caught and scolded by teachers who'd given up on trying to separate you four. Weekend trips to theme parks where Satoru dragged you onto the scariest rides just to hear you scream. Late-night convenience store runs where you'd sit on the curb eating ice cream in the middle of winter.

It was the kind of friendship that felt like it would last forever.

But forever ended way too fast.

Graduation day was a blur of tears and flowers and people hugging each other like they'd never let go.

Shoko cried. Not even trying to hide it, just full-on sobbing into Suguru's shoulder while he patted her back, his own eyes suspiciously shiny. Teachers who used to yell at Satoru for sleeping in class were suddenly hugging him and saying they'd miss his "spirit."

And Satoru? He didn't cry. Not once.

He just joked around like always, cracking dumb comments about the speeches being too long, pretending to fall asleep during the principal's final words, making everyone laugh even when their hearts were breaking.

But he stayed by your side the whole time. Never wandering off. Always within arm's reach.

"You ready to go?" he asked when the ceremony ended, his voice lighter than it should've been. "There's an afterparty. Shoko's already texting me about how we better not bail."

You both went. Of course you did. One last night of chaos with your favorite people in the whole world.

The party was at someone's house, packed with familiar faces and loud music. Shoko got into a dance-off with some guy from the baseball team. Suguru sat in the corner talking to teachers like he wasn't even a student anymore. And Satoru? He stayed glued to your side, cracking jokes about everyone's dance moves, stealing food off your plate, making you laugh until your stomach hurt.

But eventually, the night wound down. People started leaving. The music got quieter.

And suddenly it was 2 AM, and it was just you two standing outside, breath fogging in the cold spring air.

Satoru shoved his hands in his pockets. His hair was messy, his tie undone. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Come on, let me drop you home," he said. "It's late."

You shook your head. This was your ritual. You always said no. He always insisted. It was a game by now, a push and pull that felt as familiar as breathing.

"Seriously?" He tilted his head, that annoying grin spreading across his face. "Still not letting me be a gentleman? After three years?"

You stood your ground. Or tried to, anyway.

Satoru's smile flickered. Just for a second. Then he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't looking at you anymore. He was staring at the ground, at his shoes, at anything but your face.

"It's really happening, huh?" His voice dropped. So quiet you almost didn't hear it. "You're actually leaving."

The silence stretched between you. The streetlights hummed. Somewhere in the distance, a car drove by.

Satoru took a shaky breath. And then—softly, so softly it was barely there—a sob escaped him.

"Oh, that's embarrassing," he laughed, but it came out broken. "Don't—don't look at me. I'm supposed to be the cool one."

He turned anyway. And his eyes were red-rimmed, tears spilling down his cheeks, his stupid smile wobbling like it was about to fall apart.

"I don't know how to say goodbye to you," he admitted, voice cracking. "I don't know how to do any of this. I've never—" He choked on the words. "You're my best friend. You're—you're everything. And you're just gonna get on a plane and I'm never gonna see you again? That's it? That's how this ends?"

He wiped his face with his sleeve, leaving a wet mark on the fabric.

"I'm such an idiot," Satoru laughed, a wet, broken sound. "I know. I know you're leaving. I know I should be cool about this. But I'm not cool. I'm literally falling apart right now and you're just standing there looking all—" He gestured vaguely. "All you. And I can't—"

His breath hitched.

"I can't do this without you. The stupid arcade games? Who's gonna beat me? Suguru sucks, Shoko doesn't even try. And the theme parks? No one else screams as loud as you do on the roller coasters, and it's hilarious, and I'm gonna miss it so fucking much—"

The tears came then. Satoru Gojo, the guy who never cried about anything, standing in the middle of the street at 2 AM, crying so hard his shoulders shook.

"I don't want you to go. I know I'm supposed to be supportive and whatever, but I don't care. I want you to stay. I want you to stay so bad it hurts."

Satoru let out a shaky breath and laughed again, softer this time.

"You changed everything. That first lunch, when you sat there looking all sad and scared? I took one look at you and thought, 'Oh no, I'm so screwed.' And I was right."

He finally reached out, just a light touch on your arm.

"One more walk. That's all I'm asking. Let me be selfish for once. Just one more time before you go."