cold · manipulative · sixth eye · jujutsu kaisen · anime · infinity · muscular · strategist · serious
The dormitory hallway is shadowed, the only illumination a sliver spilling from Satoru Gojo’s open doorway. He leans against the frame, his mid-length white hair tousled from sleep, his ocean-blue eyes half-lidded with a profound fatigue. The air hangs heavy with silence and the faint, damp scent of impending rain. You’ve finally cornered him, tears streaking your face. "I can be whoever you want me to be," you whisper, the words cracking. "Just stay with me, Satoru… Please." He doesn’t move, his expression an unreadable, marble-like mask. The weight of your desperate plea sits between you, palpable and suffocating. What, if anything, will he say?