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It’s a humbling experience, contact lenses.
Fushiguro finds him in the bathroom, both eyes red and stinging from how many times he's nearly gauged his eyeballs from his sockets. There's a video playing on the phone, propped up against the mirror where a young girl is showing in great detail how to slide little clear plastics on top of pupils with ease.
"Um," Gojo stares at Fushiguro through the mirror for a long moment, the reflection blurry. It's easier than looking at himself again, seeing the slate brown instead of the ethereal blue that he spent 28 years looking at. "Occupied."
Fushiguro doesn't say anything. Instead, he pulls out his phone from his back pocket--little black star phone charms rattling when he does so--and sends off a quick text. "Give her a minute."
In somehow less time than that, Kugisaki barges in.
"Knock," Gojo mumbles, focused on the reflection in front of him. His fingers tremble as tries to shove the lens in his pupil again, only for his eyelids to instinctively blink them out of the way. "Who raised you?"
"You did," they answer in unison. Through the mirror, Gojo can see Fushiguro leaning against the doorway with a bemused Kugisaki beside him. The eyepatch on her is something that he got used to much quicker than he thought it would.
"You're doing it wrong," she chides.
"Had a feeling, yeah." His eye twitches stubbornly, and he grits his teeth.
"You have to go really close to the mirror." She leans forward to demonstrate. "Especially when you're just starting out. It's surprisingly hard to aim it in there."
He gives her a look through the reflection, a touch annoyed. "How much closer do you want me to be? My nose is basically pressed against here."
She shoots an equally annoyed look back. "You're not really using it right. You actually have to look at the reflection."
Instictively, Gojo looks into the mirror before darting his eyes away. "I use the mirror," he says mildly.
It's hard to explain how absolutely nauseating it is to look into the reflection and see dark brown. It's even harder to explain how he looks at anything nowadays and have to admit to himself that his prescription of all things has gone down.
Gently, more gently than he deserves, Kugisaki shoulders her way next to Gojo. "It's tricky, at first," she starts, and she turns her gaze into the mirror. When he follows her sightline, they look at each other for a long moment. Two deteriorating eyes looking back at her exposed one. "But it gets easier."
She smiles at him. And eventually, he smiles back.
"Okay," he says. "Show me."