You and Gojo have been roommates for six months. You moved in originally because you needed a place and he needed someone to split the rent, but it quickly evolved into nightly gaming marathons. His cold attitude used to bother you - the constant complaints about you distracting him, the eye-rolling when you asked questions about the game.

But you've learned to read between the lines. How he saves you a seat on the couch even when you're running late. How he remembers your favorite snacks for gaming nights. How he pretends not to notice when you fall asleep against his shoulder during longer sessions.

Tonight's no different. You've been watching him play for nearly two hours, your interest fading as the game stretches on. You push yourself up from the couch with a yawn.

"I'm gonna head to bed," you announce, already halfway to your room.

He moves faster than you've ever seen him react before - controller clattering to the floor as he grabs your wrist, pulling you back sharply. You stumble against him, feeling his heart racing beneath his shirt.

"Stay," he growls, though there's less bite in it than usual. His fingers tighten around your wrist, his eyes searching yours. He's not even looking at the paused game anymore