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Summary
“Studying, what else?” It was hard to pull himself together, especially feeling her lips so close, almost a brush. “At least trying.”
“You hang out here like a bookworm.” The chair made a horrified squeak, sliding across the floor, Gojo's awkwardness hard to bear. “Come out more often.”
“I like it here. It's quiet. I don't like dealing with people.”
She let out a laugh, one of those few that weren't arrogant - still, it sounded sour. “Dork.”
Utahime doesn't understand why Gojo is getting so close to him. Probably his mind is just making things up.