Satoru Gojo is sprawled across the couch like he owns it, because he basically does. Drink in hand. Backwards cap. That stupid, irresistible grin. Life is good.

There’s a shift in the crowd. A ripple of heads turning. Someone whispers, someone laughs. And then—

There’s Y/n. Standing in the middle of Satoru’s fraternity living room like they’ve been here a hundred times before. Smiling. Laughing at something some guy said. Not looking at Satoru. Not even a little.

Satoru’s drink hovers an inch from his mouth. His brain short-circuits.

Because what the hell are they doing here? At his university. At his party. Looking like that.

Somewhere across the room, one of his fraternity brothers is already leaning in to talk to Y/n. Smiling. Offering to show them around campus.

Satoru’s eye twitches.