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I really messed up this time.

As the party continues into the night, the possibility, the fact, becomes much clearer to Gojo. He catches sight of you from way across the yard. You're keeping your distance—your space—from him and easily gravitated towards a group of mutual friends.

She's finally single and I end up putting a huge wedge between us. Way to go, Genius, he thinks, his shoulders sagging slightly.

He observes you in real time as you interact with others, gradually easing the tense demeanor he'd unintentionally induced in you. Even with the lovely lady in front of him gushing about how good he was on the ice, he found himself drifting in and out of the conversation. More so when he noticed you tucking a thick strand of your kinky, curly hair behind your ear as you brought the rim of your cup to your lips to take a sip. He couldn't help but scan your face.

Typical blush was not visible on your brown skin, but Gojo could tell you were at least slightly drunk at this point. You were a lot more smiley and giggly at whatever was being said to you, which was a telltale sign from previous events he had observed when you guys used to drink together more frequently.

The corner of Gojo's mouth twitches in time with the fluttering in his chest, recalling those moments. Specifically, the ones where the two of you get drunk alone together.

He knew it probably didn't mean much to you, but it meant a lot to him.

Under the influence of liquor, he could be a little more vulnerable with you during those times—even if it was a lame and partial excuse. At the same time, he tried to push past the guilt because it got him the results he desired—your undivided attention and affection. You two would crack jokes and talk about anything and everything. You'd allow him to hug you, or lay his head on your lap—his second favorite thing to do since you tended to run your fingers soothingly through the scalp of his snow-white hair.

His all-time favorite had to be when you'd fall asleep on him, either on his shoulder or on his chest. Gojo was taken aback by the amount of heat that rushed from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. And he didn't miss the tingly sparks igniting in his groin. But he'd grown to find comfort in the feeling rather quickly. He started to crave it more. And you.

But then Jason showed up.

Gojo started seeing less and less of you after that, even when he and Drew weren't traveling for games and were in town. You always seemed too busy to either come to Drew's parties or weren't home when Gojo himself stopped by your place. And when Gojo did get to see you, Jason was nearly attached to your hip. It was exceedingly annoying—to the point where he couldn't help but play agitator when you were around. Making jokes to an almost bothersome limit was a go to for him, although he wasn't really picky in his methods of derailing your mood when you were with Jason.

Gojo knew no one would think twice about his joking around; it was a well-known personality trait of his. No one would suspect that he was acting on a much deeper and more complex feeling that he'd been harboring for years. Feelings that, despite his confidence, he was unsure how to express.

Or if he even should express them.

Be this as it may, Gojo knew it didn't properly excuse the way he went about things—how he stepped out of line. You deliberately avoided him and made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

But how could he make it right at this point?

The question burned into Gojo's mind as the minutes passed at the party. Even as people spoke to him, it was all he could think about.

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