𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 | 𝐒. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 ✔️

Chapter XVIII

I stare at the chalkboard like it's the last normal thing left in my world. The white lines of the teacher's writing blur together, and I realize I haven't actually heard a single word she's said in the past ten minutes.

My mind's been on autopilot, circling the same thoughts over and over again since yesterday.

Twenty-four hours. That's how long I've been feeling like this—off, distracted, unsteady.

I tap my pen against the notebook in front of me, not really writing anything, just trying to ground myself. The steady rhythm doesn't help. My thoughts are too loud. Too messy.

I catch snippets of the teacher's lecture—dates, names, something about an upcoming quiz—but it all feels so distant, like I'm watching it through a foggy window.

Across the room, I see a few classmates laughing quietly at something on their phones, their lives as normal as ever.

I envy that. The simplicity. The ease. Meanwhile, I can't even hold onto one clear thought without it spiraling into everything I've been trying to ignore.

My foot starts to bounce instinctively under the desk, the kind of restless motion I don't notice until it's too obvious to ignore. I freeze for a moment and glance at the glass door.

What the hell.

Why is he waving at me?

I squint to make sure I'm not imagining things. Nope. That's Gojo, grinning like he has nothing better to do and waving like a kid trying to get their mom's attention at a school play.

I look back at the teacher, raising my hand before I even think it through. "Can I—?"

"Yes, Gojo," the teacher says, cutting me off with the kind of exasperation that makes it clear I'm not winning any awards for model student today.

I close the door behind me, narrowing my eyes at my face. "Mascara's falling," I mutter, inspecting the smudged, clumpy mess he's made of it. I sigh, grabbing a tissue.

"I think it looks great," he says, grinning lazily while I dab at his—my—undereye. He tilts his head back slightly to make it easier, his eyes meeting mine as I focus on cleaning him up.

For a brief moment, I forget what I'm doing. The quiet, the closeness—it feels strange. Too strange. The realization makes me cough, stepping back instinctively.

A sound behind me makes my stomach drop. A low, familiar chuckle. We both turn to see Noah leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on his face.

Kill me now.

"Here we go," Gojo mutters under his breath, turning his head slightly, already bracing for whatever nonsense is about to come out of Noah's mouth.

"Pulling each other out of class now, lovebirds?" Noah sneers, crossing his arms as he leans casually against the wall. His tone is sharp, dripping with arrogance, and his eyes are locked on me—well, Gojo in my body.

"We're not," I snap, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. Great. Just what I need—Noah making this even harder.

Noah raises an eyebrow and gives me that stupid smirk that makes me want to punch him. "Wow, defensive today, huh, Gojo? Trouble in paradise?" he says, his words laced with mockery.

I grit my teeth, biting back a response. This guy is unbearable.

Before I can say anything else, Gojo—still in my body—steps forward, tucking a strand of hair behind "his" ear, and says in the softest, most measured voice, "Can you stop being such a jerk for, like, five minutes?"