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 muffled bass thumping through the walls. Dust motes swirl in the slender blade of yellow light slicing through the door crack, catching the sharp planes of Satoru Gojo's face as he leans against the far wall. His silver-white hair is tousled, falling across his brow, and those ice-blue eyes are half-lidded, inscrutable behind thin-framed glasses. He adjusts them with a practiced flick of his fingers, a nervous tic disguised as nonchalance. The silence stretches, heavy with the echo of your last argument, the sting of his latest jab. Then he speaks, his voice a lazy drawl that cuts 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 fracture…