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Summary
Satoru had always been too much for most people.
Too loud, too fast, too smart, too strong. Born into legacy, hailed as the pride of the Gojo clan since he could walk, spoken of like a storm wrapped in silk. People either wanted something from him or wanted to be him. Both were exhausting. He was coddled, yes—pampered, praised, paraded around like a thoroughbred, and taught to believe he was untouchable.
The problem was, he was untouchable.
No one ever really saw him. Not beyond the Six Eyes, not beyond the technique, not beyond the bloodline. He could make a joke, and people would laugh before he even finished it. He could lie, and they’d believe him just because he said it with confidence. He could fail, and the world would say it was someone else’s fault.
Then came Suguru.
And Suguru looked at him like he saw right through all the performance.
Or
Satoru is in denial of his feelings and gets a handjob from his best friend Suguru who is just as stupid.
𖤓𖤓𖤓
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