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“Shut up, Gojo!” Utahime shouted, replying to his previous remark.
“What?” Satoru chuckled. “You’re sitting here eating your lunch all stoic like you actually did something back there.”
“Careful, Satoru,” Suguru whispered, nudging Satoru's side with his elbow.
“I did!” Utahime shouted back at Satoru.
Satoru brushed off Suguru’s remark with a cheeky grin. “Aw, that’s cute,” he teased, looking back at Utahime with a shrug. “You know, I really admire how you never let being so weak stop you from trying your absolute best,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Honestly, it’s inspiring...in a really sad kind of way.”
Utahime slammed her hands against the table and rapidly shot out of her seat. “I swear, Gojo, you get worse every day,” she snapped. “Like, I wake up hopeful each morning and think, ‘huh, maybe Gojo gained the slightest ounce of maturity in his sleep,’ and I’m always majorly disappointed when I see you.”
“I’m the first person you think about when you wake up in the morning?” Satoru smirked. “Honestly, I’m flattered, but I’m not interested, sorry.”
Suguru slapped his hand to his face. “Satoru…” he warned in a cautionary tone.
“Disgusting,” Utahime scoffed. “Respect your seniors, Gojo.”
He tilted his head to the side and stepped closer. “Oh, yeah. My ‘senior,’” he replied. “I forgot because I literally look down to see you. Is it hard being so short? Seems exhausting…” He yawned.
Utahime’s face grew redder with each word that came out of his mouth. “Gojo…”
“Aw, you’re getting so worked up,” Satoru said, leaning over and poking the wrinkle between her eyebrows with his finger. “You should be careful. Stress is bad for your skin at your age.”
“Alright, fuck off, Gojo!” Utahime shouted, throwing her sushi at his face.
“You really need to learn to be nicer, Satoru,” Suguru said, brushing the last of the rice from his shirt and picking a piece of tuna from Satoru’s hair.
Satoru groaned. “Maybe Utahime should just learn to keep her attitude in check. My comment was not worth wasting perfectly good sushi over,” he replied, eating a piece of tempura that got caught in a fold of his jacket.
Suguru cringed with disgust at the gesture. “Well, yes,” he said, slapping Satoru’s hand away as he found something else trapped in his jacket. “But aside from the sushi throwing, her reaction was warranted. That was not ‘a comment.' You relentlessly taunted her for a solid 15 minutes. If anything, she stayed very calm all things considered.”
Satoru groaned. “Suguruuuu…You’re no fun when you’re like this.”
“Like what? Telling you to be nice?” he asked with a shrug. “I wouldn’t have to if you actually listened the first time. If you really feel the need to pick on others, you could at least be more subtle about it.”
“Ugh, now I have to listen to two people complain today?” he whined, wiping food from his shades and placing them back on his face. “This is so exhausting.”
Suguru rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why don’t we play the quiet game, Satoru?”
Satoru deadpanned. “I’m not five, Suguru.”
“I know.” Suguru chuckled and nudged Satoru's shoulder with his as they walked. “I just don’t think you’re physically capable of remaining quiet for more than a few minutes at a time.”
“What?! I’m capable of being quiet!” Satoru argued.
“Mhm. I’m sure,” Suguru replied sarcastically. He can’t turn down a challenge, Suguru thought, holding back a small smirk. This might get us all a much-needed break from his mouth for a few minutes.
“I’m hurt that my best friend has no faith in me!” he replied theatrically.
Suguru looked around aimlessly. “Hm, I’m hearing an awful lot of chatter coming from somewhere around here for a game about silence,” he remarked.
“Fine,” Satoru grumbled. “I’ll play along with your little challenge, Suguru, but when I win, I expect a reward.” He sighed and promptly snapped his mouth shut.
“Fair enough.” Suguru chuckled. “Game on.”