𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 | gojo satoru x reader

13: "It Looks Perfect. You Look. . ."

It had been three hours. Three hours of trying to find the perfect outfit. It's not that you didn't trust anything Thoma was saying. Nor did you have any problems with what he was suggesting.

It was Thoma himself that was having issues with his own suggestions.

The store was closed now, and had been for an hour. Thoma's hair was ruffled, and you felt bad for the guy. He was standing in front of the three final outfits he had compiled together, continuously moving pairs of shoes around. Gojo was slumped over on a white lounge chair, ten seconds away from passing out out of boredom and shopping bags sprawled on the ground around him. You were envious. He had finished his outfit hunting after forty-five minutes.

Ayato had his arms leaning on the back of the chair behind Gojo, head hung in exhaustion. "Thoma, what's the problem? I think these are all great for them."

"No no no," Thoma mumbled to himself, and you were beginning to wonder whether or not Ayato had handpicked him from the psych ward. "It's not right." You all sat in silence, watching him for a couple more moments before he suddenly spun and pointed at your face. "You."

You suddenly felt like you had to apologise, but he continued.

"You haven't even expressed just a sliver of excitement for any of these outfits."

Both Ayato and Gojo looked at you, Gojo just barely lifting his head. You nervously gulped, pointing to yourself in question. "I uh. . . Well. . ."

As much as you were trying to find an excuse, he was right. You weren't actively excited about any of the outfits he put together. Yes, you thought they were really really nice, and you had to admit he was very talented. But there wasn't a single thing you were actually enthusiastic about wearing. You weren't sure why.

"I don't understand. I've shown you basically every possible option," Thoma's voice cracked, and you wanted to give the poor guy a hug. "I don't understand. What am I doing wrong?"

You felt your heart sink. "I. . . Look, Thoma, it's not you. I really don't think it's you at all. I'm sorry I'm so hard to shop for. These are all absolutely amazing outfits, they really are. I just. . ." You didn't even know what excuse to give him, because you didn't have one. And he really did look stressed, the poor thing.

"Stop," Ayato said, standing up, a certain look you couldn't quite place in his eyes. You frowned, and Thoma looked at him with a defeated look. "Thoma, come get a coffee with me."

"But it's eight o'clock at night."

    "And I want a coffee," without another word, Ayato walked out, and Thoma looked at you before hesitantly following him. The door slowly clicked shut, Ayato locking just the basic lock from outside before walking across the street with Thoma.

    The main lights to the store were off, so everything was quite dark, save for the back of the store where now it was just you and Gojo, the warm orange lights creating a surprisingly relaxed environment. You didn't say anything, sighing in defeat as you approached the three outfits Thoma had laid out. Hands on your hips, you stared at them.

    It was a good thirty seconds of you staring at the clothes before Gojo sat up. He had taken his hoodie off an hour beforehand, leaving him in his white t-shirt, now crinkled from the position he had been laying in. Silently, he stood from his place on the chair and slowly walked over to you, standing next to you. His gaze flicked between you and the clothes, and you weren't so sure what he was waiting for. Quietly, he asked, "What's wrong?"

You were almost taken aback by the question, especially coming from him, but you didn't tease him for it. Instead, you answered with a mumbled, "I don't know."