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“Gee, could she be any louder ?” He yawned as they approached the dorm’s corridors.
“She’s drunk,” Shoko chuckled. There was a little skipping to her steps, but, aside from that, she seemed completely fine. “Don’t act so proud. You’d be just as bad with even less alcohol”.
Gojo shrugged, grinning. “True. But that is why I don't drink. Aside from being a weakling, Utahime is also dumb,” he said.
“You’re dumber”.
A theatrical gasp. Shoko rolled her eyes. “You hurt me so”.
“Ahhhh,” Utahime complained, frowning. Her entire face was flushed red, tears at the sides of her eyes. “Put me down!”.
“ Shhh ,” Gojo hushed, stalling his steps for a second. “Utahime, do you want Yaga-sensei to hear us?”.
“Shut uuuuup,” she struggled, dizzy. “Just put me down already”.
Shoko seemed to be having the time of her life. Gojo adjusted his hands where they were supporting the girls’ body against his back, and kept walking. “ Annoyiiiing . Next time we won’t bring you, Utahime”.
“Oh, don’t be so harsh,” Shoko shrugged. “Utahime likes alcohol so much, she’d cry if we let her out of it”.
“Then let her cry”.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”.
Gojo chuckled. “She looks pretty stupid when she cries. It’s funny”.
Utahime punched his shoulders, still trying to get off. “ You’re stupid”.
“And you’re weak!”.
“Put me down you stick figure-looking idiot!”.
“I’ll do that when we reach your room,” Gojo kept walking. “You foul-mouthed witch”.
Shoko walked ahead, and, when they finally reached the correct door, she pushed it aside to turn on the lights and told her friend: “Put her down so she won’t get too dizzy. I’m gonna clean this mess before putting her on the bed”.
“Is it that stinky there?” Gojo raised one eyebrow, lips already turning into a smile.
Utahime punched him on the back of his head. “I’m gonna kill you”.
“She just left in a hurry, so there’s clothes all around,” Shoko explained. “I’ll be quick, promise”.
Gojo shrugged, complying. Still, as much as he wanted to just let her plop down to the floor, he slowly put her down, until the girl was resting against the corridor’s wall. Utahime tended to go pretty wild with the drinking, so it was no surprise that she almost always ended up completely wasted.
Gojo crouched in front of her. She snarled at him. “Not looking so good, eh?” He teased.
She tried to kick his shins, but failed. “I hate you”.
“Why? Because I’m stronger than you?”.
“Because you’re,” she reached out, trying to slap his shoulders, but lost momentum, and her hand ended up falling weakly on his wrist. She banged her head against the wall and immediately cringed. “Ow”.
“Yes, I am pretty wow”.
“Fuck you”.
“Heh,” he raised his eyebrows. “She curses ”.
Utahime’s hand slid from his wrist to his hand, almost unconsciously. Gojo watched with newly found curiosity. She looked up at him, through her messy bangs and the way her eyes seemed almost out of focus.
Her fingers intertwined with his. Well, almost. He took one look down, at their hands that almost touched, and then back to her face, red and pouting like he’d just told her she couldn’t have dessert.
“You know… You’re pretty,” she whispered, almost too low to be heard”.
He let her hand go through his infinity. Utahime had calloused hands, from combat. She wasn’t very lady-like, after all, despite her looks - and he did recognize the fact that she was, obviously, pretty (not as much as him, but still) - and he felt the moment the texture of her skin brushed against his own. She was charred, and burnt, and scarred and, yet.
The touch still felt soft. Like something falling into place. They looked at each other for a second, infinite blue on dark brown, and it was like a silence just after the end of a storm.
She grabbed his finger, her soft smile turning into an angry smirk, like he’d pissed her off again. “Pretty fucking annoying, that is”. Her expression softened and she laid her head against the wall in order to sigh.
Taken aback, Gojo couldn’t help but smile - and, to his own surprise, there was no malice in it.
“OK,” Shoko slid Utahime’s door to the side. “You can go now. I’ll get her a change of clothes and make sure she drinks some water before falling asleep”.
Gojo snapped back to reality. Utahime whined, insisting she didn’t need any help, and Shoko merely shook her head, a soft smile on her lips.
Carefully, he scooped her up in his arms, and she was too tired to try and argue again. He entered the room, put the girl on her bed and, just for a second, fought the urge to smile at her.
And, a second before he walked away, she gripped the sleeve of his jacket and he stalled. Then, Utahime rolled over and he couldn’t see her face anymore.
“Why is Gojo Satoru staring at me?” Utahime snarled, nursing a hangover as she sipped on some kind of fruit shake Shoko had got her.
“Oh,” the other girl chuckled, sitting by her side on the kitchen table. “You have no idea”.
“Oi, Utahimeeee!” He came running towards them, and, in one swift motion she was too hungover to interfere (not that she would be able to) undid the white ribbon holding her ponytail together.
“How’s that hangover treating you, huh?” He smirked, and before she could reply, he rounded the table and sat by his teammate.
“You know,” Shoko whispered, so the other girl couldn’t hear her. “You have the flirting skills of a 5th grade child”.
Gojo kept quiet, for once in his life. Utahime, from across the table, snarled: “I can’t hear you and, yet, your very presence pisses me off”.
“That’s the spirit!”.