Next week arrives and you're full of vigor. You try your best to rationalize each problem, no matter how wrong you are; and you were very wrong, frequently. You're mentally apologizing in advance to your tutor. You see Geto and Gojo quietly bickering. Gojo has long pretty eyelashes, and you can't stop glancing at them. They swiftly point to you. Nothing unusual, until—for the first time—Geto turns to you. His eyes are fixated solely on you. You're startled and knock over your water bottle, pouring it all over your notebook. A domino effect ensues. The valuable notes you took smear from the liquid, and it drips from the table onto your mini skirt. You stand to dodge it but your open bag tips over and out the chair, spilling the contents all over the floor. The room is silent, and everyone in your vicinity is staring. Time stops as you gather your stuff and leave the hall to dry yourself. You're in the bathroom now, dying from embarrassment as your brain recalls the moment repeatedly. The sly smirk on Gojo's face. I have to get over this you thought. Your session is in an hour, and you don't want to waste crucial experience. Surely it can't get worse than this.
You show up five minutes early and patiently wait for their arrival. Fortunately, you're afforded a closed off workspace with the tutor. You draw dainty flowers in your book until the door creaks open. To your surprise, you see tidy black hair and chiseled features. It's Geto. Your personal tutor is Geto. The stars must've aligned to dispatch one horrific cataclysm. You contemplate what you could've done to the gods for them to punish you so harshly. He pretends that he's never seen you. "(Y/N), right? My name is Geto, I'll be tutoring you for the rest of the semester." His professionalism makes you breathe easier, and you're relieved, content with maintaining this attitude. Together you set up your notes and the first 15 minutes go without a hitch, simply reviewing the topics you grapple with.
"A lot of these are early concepts. They're used in basically every class. Forgive me if this offends you, but how do you not know these?"
"Ah, I get a bit distracted."
"By what?"
"Oh... um." You shift your thighs back and forth, pondering a justifiable answer, oblivious to the way Geto ogles them. "I just have a hard time focusing."
He scans your tight fitted shirt, then your lips. "I see." Suddenly, the door swings open. Bright orbs piercing you, capturing you. You drop your head, hoping he won't recognize you from the scalp.
"Yo Geto, look at this game I- oops."
"How many times do I have to tell you not to barge in while I'm tutoring?"
"Haha, sorry 'bout that...wait, I know you!" He exclaims. Gojo snatches a chair and sits so you're sandwiched between them. Intently skimming the textbook as if you didn't hear him, he grabs your cheeks and twists you to him.
"You're the girl that wet herself today, right?" He laughs.
"C'mon, she's dealt with enough already." Your wishful thinking fell on deaf ears; they clearly didn't forget that easily.
"Heh, it's too funny though. Geto, I told you about her remember? She's always looking at us in class." he teases. You felt a shiver go up your spine and your face get hotter. "That isn't-"
"Shh" Gojo interrupts you. "Tell me, are we more handsome now that you have a closer look?" Your heart drops to your stomach and you stumble over your words.
"I-I'm sorry, I don't mean to look. If I made you uncomfortable, I'm deeply sorry."
"Nah, it's cool. I like the shy type."
"I think I should go." You try to rise, but Geto pulls you from your skirt. If they wanted you, they would have you. "I didn't permit you to leave. Sit. We'll continue."
