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It was always the way you smiled at him.
Gojo had been trying to explain it for years, but the truth was, he never really understood it himself.
There was something about your smile, the way it would always reach your eyes, that had captivated him long before you both became adults.
It was the same smile that you give to everyone, but when you aim it at him, it always felt a little different.
He couldn't help but believe, just for a moment, that it was a little more for him.
You were warm, effortlessly funny, and kind to everyone, but always just out of reach for him.
You had known each other since childhood—gone to school together, been through the awkward teenage years side by side, and now, here you were, both twenty-five, still best friends .
Everything had changed.
Everything, except for the way he felt about you.
Gojo had never been brave enough to tell you how he felt, he was slipping deeper into something he couldn’t get out of.
You were always there—inviting him out, chatting together like the best of friends, but he couldn’t ignore the pit that would open in his stomach whenever you two were alone.
He would lie awake at night, the thought constantly in his head.
Was there a chance? Was there something more?
You would never see him the way he saw you. That much, he knew.
But the problem was, you were so kind to him. So nice. And sometimes that kindness felt like something more, like a promise that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t invisible to you.
But every time he thought that every time he allowed himself to hope, you would say or do something to pull him back. To remind him that you cared about him. But only as friends.
---
You were sitting on the old couch in his apartment, a ritual you two did every Saturday evening. Gojo had ordered takeout.
You were halfway, through when you mentioned a new guy you had started seeing.
Gojo hadn’t been prepared for that. He was used to hearing about your random hookups and dates, but this was different.
"His name’s Nanami," you said, your voice light, as if you didn’t realize the way the words cut into him. "We met at the bookstore last weekend. He’s a bit shy, but super sweet. We’ve been out a couple of times."
Gojo forced a smile, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. “That’s great,” he managed, his voice thin. “I’m glad you’ve found someone nice.”
Of course, you didn’t notice the change in his tone. You smiled and went on talking about how you and Nanami had spent the day together, how you liked how easy he was to talk to, how different he was from the others.
Gojo’s stomach churned as he set his fork down. He stared at his plate for a long moment, trying to swallow the bitterness in his throat.
He said your name, his voice sounding strange to him like it didn’t belong. “Can I tell you something?”
You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "Of course. What’s up?"
He could feel the words sitting at the back of his throat, heavy and suffocating. He had been holding them in for years. It was stupid. He knew it was stupid. But he couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I—I don’t think I can keep doing this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Watching you with him, and knowing I’ll never be the one you want. It’s killing me.”
You blinked, obviously taken aback. "What do you mean?" You asked, leaning forward, tone gentle and concerned.
He couldn’t stop now. The words had already spilt out, and now they were tumbling over each other. “I’ve been in love with you for so long,” he said, the confession coming out in a rush. "And I know it’s ridiculous because you don’t see me that way. But every time you smile at me, every time we hang out, I start hoping. I start thinking that maybe, you feel something too. And I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being your friend.”
The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Your face froze, eyes wide and a little unsure. Gojo couldn’t bear it. He had never been this vulnerable with you before. Never let you see the mess of emotions that he had spent years hiding.
"I—I’m sorry," he muttered, shaking his head, suddenly feeling stupid. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it. I shouldn’t have ruined our night.”
But your hand on his arm stopped him before he could get up. "Gojo, no," you said softly. "You’re not ruining anything. It’s just… I didn’t know." Your voice faltered slightly, trying to choose your words carefully. "I care about you so much. You’re one of my closest friends, Gojo. But I don’t… I don’t love you like that."
Gojo closed his eyes, feeling the sting of your words hit harder than he had imagined. He could feel the weight of his chest tightening, he couldn’t find the strength to speak.
You continued, voice tender but firm. "I don’t want to hurt you, Gojo. You’re an amazing person, and you deserve someone who can give you what you want. But that person isn’t me."
You paused, fingers still lightly resting on his arm. "I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t be that for you."
Gojo felt like the ground had been ripped from under him. His heart pounded in his chest, the pain of your rejection swelling up until it was all-consuming.
He had known—he had known for so long that you didn’t feel the same way. But hearing it out loud, hearing you tell him that you would never feel the same, shattered something deep inside him.
"I get it," he said, forcing a smile, even though it felt like the most painful thing he’d ever done. "It’s fine. It’s just… it’s fine. I’ll be okay."
But the truth was, he wasn’t okay. Not at all. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He wouldn’t let you see how badly he was breaking. He couldn’t.
You looked at him, guilt and sadness in your eyes. You opened your mouth as if to say something else, but you stopped. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.
Finally, you stood up, your hand still resting on his arm. "I never meant to hurt you," you whispered. "I hope you know that. You mean so much to me, Gojo."
---
Gojo sat alone on the couch, the empty container of food forgotten at his side. The apartment felt cold, and sterile, as if the walls had closed in on him.
He wanted to break something. Anything, just to feel something other than the dull ache in his chest.
The hardest part wasn’t the rejection. It wasn’t the way you had turned him down, so gently, so kindly, as if it were just another thing you had to do to ensure he wasn’t hurt.
The hardest part was knowing that you would always be there with him, looking out for him, but always out of his reach.
He had never expected you to love him. He never thought you two would be together.
But that small hope—just that fleeting, stupid hope—had been enough to keep him going.
And now, it was gone.
For the rest of the night, Gojo didn’t cry. He just sat in the dark, staring at the wall, feeling the weight of your absence.