Failing For You - Gojo x Reader

Chapter 8

The weekend passed too quickly.

I wrap my arms more tightly around my body as I trudge to class. My oversized hoodie replaced the blanket that I had been snuggling in less than an hour ago and it is such a downgrade. I miss my bed. I miss sleeping. I hate school.

I pass groups of friends chattering happily, coffees in hand, and I feel my face stiffen into a glare. Ugh. Happy morning people.

I don't want to have literature class with Gojo right now. Or ever. The unreal, bubble-like feeling of the weekend has slipped away and I'm left with the weird reality of it all once more. The odd shit with Gojo on top of academics sours my mood.

The lecture hall is already bustling with people by the time I arrive (I overslept), and I lurk on in, beelining to the end seat in the very back row. I slide into a seat next to a kid who looks like he showers maybe once every blue moon. He smells like it too. I grab my travel-size perfume out of my bag and spray it in a not-so-discreet way. Pistachio gelato over B.O. any day. The guy looks at me, so I raise my eyebrows and mouth 'what?'. He looks away sheepishly. Hopefully he feels some shame and showers after class today.

With that stench out of the way, I grab my computer and open it up, getting situated for the class. One of my novels was delivered last night, but the remaining ones are still in transit somewhere. I found free pdfs of them online if they're needed though, and my hard copy novel is sitting securely at the bottom of my bag.

I've got this. It's going to be a successful semester.

A shadow falls over me and I hear a voice close to my ear. "'Morning, Y/n."

I nearly jump out of my seat and hear a low chuckle as my lovely TA leans back up, straightening next to me.

"Fuck, Gojo, don't scare me like that," I groan, glaring up at him. "It's too early for that."

Today he has black pants and a dark gray jacket on. Hot. Like, literally, he must be burning up. I nearly roasted alive on my walk here and I had shorts on with my sweatshirt. Long sleeve and pants...yikes. Somehow though, he looks perfectly comfortable. No discernable sweat stains. No upper lip sweat.

"I wasn't trying to scare you, I was trying to say good morning to my student," He replied innocently, cocking his head to the side, eyes wide in mock surprise. He's bullshitting me and we both know it.

"I hate it when you pull the student card," I grumble. "And stop acting like that, you totally meant to scare me."

"Maybe I did," he shrugged casually. "Find all the novels okay?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Although not all of them have been delivered yet. Which one are we doing first?"

"It'll be that French one you asked me about the other day," he replied. "J'espère que tu a ce livre ou tu auras des ennuis."

"I don't know what you're saying," I shake my head at him, laughing a little. "You speak French? Why does that not surprise me."

"I'm just that awesome," he wiggles his eyebrows, smirking.

I fix him with a flat stare. "Right..."

"Mean," he tsks. "I'm actually doing my thesis in French."

"Why? I thought you were getting a literature degree?" I ask.

"I am, it's a French literature degree," he corrects smugly.

"English wasn't good enough for you?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Nah, it's awesome too. I just wanted a challenge," he says, smiling in a slightly feline way that makes me completely believe him about the challenge part.