Chapter Text
The courtyard was quiet except for the distant clang of wooden swords. Adelle sat cross-legged on the stone steps, tugging her practice gloves off with her teeth. Sweat slicked the back of her neck, strands of hair sticking stubbornly to her temples. Gojo was still on the field, twirling his staff with that stupid smug grin like the laws of balance didn’t apply to him.
“Not bad today,” he called over, casually wiping his face with his collar. “You almost kept up.”
Almost.
Her jaw tightened, a thousand sharp comebacks flickering on her tongue. But instead, she forced a grin. “Yeah, keep talking, cottonball. I’ll crush you next round.”
He laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Always laughing. Always patting her head like a puppy. Always treating her like—
—like his best friend. Like one of the guys. Not a girl. Not someone he could actually look at.
Her chest twisted. She wanted him to notice the way her uniform clung when she tied her jacket around her waist. The way her hair fell loose when she sparred. Wanted his gaze to linger—just once—for reasons other than critiquing her stance.
But instead, he dropped down beside her on the steps, long legs stretched out and his elbow knocking against hers. “You’re still my favorite partner, though. Can’t trust anyone else not to go easy on me.”
Her throat went dry. Partner. Best friend. Nothing more. She bit the inside of her cheek until it hurt, forcing herself to laugh with him.
And yet… when one of the second-years passed by and offered Adelle a wave, Gojo’s smile faltered. He leaned forward, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.
“What’s he looking at you for?” His voice was casual, but a little too sharp.
Adelle blinked, caught off guard. “Huh? He was just being nice.”
“Yeah? Well, he should keep his eyes to himself.” Gojo leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head, like the matter was already settled. But she saw it—that flicker of possessiveness, the edge to his tone.
Her pulse jumped. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t want her that way—but heaven forbid anyone else even tried.
Make up your mind, Satoru. Either see me as a woman, or let me go. Don’t keep me trapped here, half-wanted.
She laughed again, too loud, too forced, and shoved his shoulder like it was just another joke.
But inside, the ache gnawed deeper.
~
The classroom buzzed with the usual low chatter. Haibara was leaning back dangerously in his chair, Nanami already scolding him in that serious tone of his. Geto had his nose buried in a book, Mei Mei was half-listening while braiding her hair, and Utahime was scribbling notes like the diligent student she was.
Gojo sprawled beside Adelle, one long leg stretched out under her desk, his foot tapping lightly against her ankle. It wasn’t intentional, not really—except it was, because when she shifted, he shifted too, like he wanted the contact to stay.
“Hey, partner,” he murmured, grinning down at the mission assignment they’d been given. “We’re paired up again. Try not to drag me down, alright?”
She snorted, though it caught in her throat. Partner. Always partner. Like we’re just sparring dummies who grew up together, not— She swallowed the thought before it burned too much. “Yeah, sure. I’ll carry you like usual.”
He laughed, leaning over close enough that his shoulder pressed against hers as he read the page. His scent—clean laundry with a faint trace of soap—hit her nose, making her stomach lurch in a way she hated. Too close. Too close, and still not close enough.
And then, of course, he ruined it. “See, this is why I like working with you. You don’t whine like Shoko. Or nag like Utahime. You’re just… chill. Like one of the guys.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but inside, her chest squeezed tight. One of the guys. Not a girl. Never a girl to you, am I?
She wanted to scream or swing. Instead, she tugged the paper from his hand with a scoff, pretending his words didn’t sting.
“Adelle,” Shoko’s calm voice cut in from across the room. “What do you think about splitting the fairgrounds site? Two on surveillance, two on the entry team?”
Adelle looked up quickly, grateful for the chance to focus on anything else. “Yeah, that could work,” she said, pushing her hair back. Shoko smiled faintly, waiting for her to say more.
But beside her, Gojo went stiff. His head turned sharply, blue eyes cutting toward Shoko like a knife. His foot pressed harder against Adelle’s ankle under the desk, possessive, grounding.
“She’s with me,” he interjected smoothly, voice laced with false cheer. “You don’t need her opinion, Shoko. We’ve got it covered.”
Adelle blinked, startled by the sudden edge in his tone. Shoko raised an unimpressed brow but said nothing, simply returning to her notes.
Adelle forced a laugh, heat crawling up her neck. Why do you do this to me, Satoru? You’ll claim me the second someone else asks for my attention—but you won’t see me the way I want you to. It’s like you want to keep me yours without ever… keeping me.
She kept her eyes on the paper, pretending not to notice the way his hand brushed the back of hers, casual and thoughtless—except not at all.
The bell finally rang, signaling the start of lunch, and the classroom emptied fast. Haibara bounded down the hall like he’d been starving for days, Nanami trailing after him with that permanent scowl. Shoko slipped a cigarette into her sleeve for later, while Geto and Utahime argued half-heartedly about cafeteria food.
Adelle stacked her books, forcing her hands not to tremble. She wasn’t sure why she felt so on edge—maybe because his words still echoed in her head. One of the guys. One of the guys.
Gojo, of course, looked perfectly unbothered. “C’mon,” he said brightly, tugging her bag from her desk before she could reach for it. “Lunch. My treat. If you beg, maybe I’ll even let you steal a bite of my dessert.”
She rolled her eyes, trying to match his energy. “Oh, please. You’re the one who always steals from me.”
He smirked, bumping her shoulder with his. His hand lingered just a little too long at the small of her back as they walked out into the sunlit courtyard, and her heart kicked painfully. Stop it. Don’t touch me like this if you don’t mean it. Don’t blur the line when you’ve already decided where I stand.
They sat under a tree with the others scattered around the yard. Gojo sprawled across the grass, one arm thrown lazily behind her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He chatted easily, tossing jokes at Nanami, teasing Utahime, but his hand never left the space behind her shoulders—close enough that if she shifted even slightly, it would brush against her hair.
Her appetite was gone. She picked at her food, trying to ignore the twisting knot in her chest.
“You’re quiet,” Gojo said suddenly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. He adjusted his sunglasses, frowning just a fraction. “That’s weird for you. Something wrong?”
Her breath caught. Yes. You. You’re what’s wrong. You keep me in your orbit like I belong to you, but you never let me be the thing I want to be for you. You’ll never see me as a girl—just your partner, your best friend, your safe constant.
But her lips curved into a practiced grin. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
He didn’t buy it. He tilted toward her, voice dropping lower, only for her to hear. “If someone said something, tell me. I’ll handle it.”
She blinked, startled. “What? No one said anything.”
“Good.” His hand brushed her arm lightly, possessive even in that tiny touch. “Because if they did, they’d regret it.”
Her chest ached. You’re so close, Satoru. So damn close. But it’s never in the way I want.
She forced a laugh, nudging him with her elbow. “Relax, guard dog. No one’s out to get me.”
He grinned again, easy and smug—but his eyes lingered on her face a second longer than usual, like he could sense something he couldn’t quite name.
And that hurt worst of all.
~
The last of the desks slid back into place with a scrape of wood against tile. Cleaning duty always fell on the unlucky pair left behind, and today it was Adelle and Shoko.
“Done,” Shoko said simply, slinging her broom against the wall. She pushed her fringe back, already pulling a cigarette from her pocket with that casual elegance that made people whisper.
Adelle sighed, stretching her sore shoulders. “Finally. My arms are gonna fall off if Gojo keeps ditching his turn.”
Shoko gave her a sly look, lighter flicking. “You let him get away with everything.”
The words stung more than they should have. Do I? Is that what everyone sees? Me, letting him walk all over me while I wait for scraps of attention?
Before she could answer, a roll of thunder shook the windows. Sheets of rain hammered down, sudden and violent, flooding the courtyard in seconds.
“Great,” Adelle muttered, peering out the door. “We’ll drown before we make it to the dorms.”
Shoko laughed under her breath and, without hesitation, shrugged off her white coat, flipping it over Adelle’s head. “Here. Use it. I’m already going to smell like smoke anyway.”
Adelle blinked, stunned by the simple kindness. The coat was warm, soft on her skin, carrying Shoko’s faint perfume. She couldn’t remember the last time someone—not Gojo—had thought to shield her like that.
A strange tightness rose in her chest. Why does something this small feel like it means so much? Is it because it’s not him? Because someone else is treating me like—like a girl?
She forced a laugh, hugging the fabric close. “You’ll freeze.”
“I’ll survive,” Shoko said easily, pushing the door open to step into the downpour.
They barely made it two steps before a sharp voice cut through the rain.
“Adelle!”
She froze. Gojo stood at the bottom of the steps, umbrella tilted over his shoulder, rain hissing off the edge. His sunglasses were gone, bright blue eyes locking onto her first, then sliding to the coat draped around her.
He didn’t smile. Not the usual grin. His jaw tightened, sharp and uncharacteristic. “What’s with that?”
Adelle’s heart leapt, confused. “It’s Shoko’s coat. She didn’t want me getting soaked—”
“I would’ve come,” he interrupted, striding up the stairs to hook an arm around her shoulders and yank her against his side. The umbrella swung above them both, his grip firm, too firm. “Next time, wait for me.”
Her pulse hammered. The heat of him against her was overwhelming, the umbrella shielding them in a tight little cocoon from the storm. She hated how badly her body reacted, how much she wanted to lean into him.
But his words cut just as deep as they warmed. Next time, wait for me. Like she was his responsibility, not his choice. Like she was his to protect, but never his to want.
Shoko raised an unimpressed brow, hands in her pockets. “You’re a little possessive, Gojo.”
“Call it what you want,” he said easily, though his arm didn’t budge from around Adelle. “She doesn’t need anyone else looking out for her.”
Adelle swallowed hard, unable to answer. The coat slipped from her fingers, forgotten in the rain.
Then look at me. Look at me properly. If you’re going to claim me, Satoru, then see me the way I want to be seen.
But outwardly, she just laughed and elbowed him lightly, pretending her cheeks weren’t burning.