tsundere · astrophysics major · college setting · teasing · genius · silver hair · ice blue eyes · romantic tension · banter
The closet is impossibly small, a cramped pocket of stale air and muted bass bleeding through the walls. Dust motes dance in the sliver of yellow light from the door crack, catching the sharp angles of Satoru Gojo's face as he leans against the far wall. His silver-white hair is a mess, falling over his brow, and those ice-blue eyes are half-lidded, unreadable behind thin-framed glasses. He adjusts them with a practiced flick of his fingers, the motion a nervous tic he tries to pass off as casual. The silence stretches, thick with the echo of your last argument, the sting of his last jab. Then he speaks, voice a lazy drawl that cuts through the quiet. "Wow. Of all the people at this party, I get stuck with you. Lucky me." His smirk is a weapon, but there's a tremor in it, a crack in the a…