𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫 | 𝐒. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 ✔️

Chapter XX

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room feels unbearably hot, even with the faint breeze sneaking through the open window. The night is silent—too silent.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm the restless thoughts spinning in my head. Only a few more days, Y/n. Just a few more days, and this peaceful life will be over. I'll go back to the chaos waiting for me.

That thought doesn't sit right. I shift uncomfortably, my head swimming with everything I've tried not to think about.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes, the sharp vibration cutting through the stillness. I groan, reaching blindly for it on the nightstand. Who could be calling me at this hour?

The moment I see the contact name on the screen, my breath catches. Gojo.

My tiredness vanishes instantly. Sitting up, I grip the phone, my heartbeat quickening. My ears feel hot, and for a moment, I just stare at his name flashing on the screen. Why is he calling?

Hesitating for only a second longer, I swipe to answer, holding the phone to my ear. "What is it, Gojo?" I ask, trying to sound annoyed, though the rapid thudding of my heart betrays me.

"Come down," he says, his voice casual, like this is a normal thing for him to ask in the middle of the night.

I blink, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, he hangs up.

I lower the phone, staring at it, baffled, before something makes me walk over to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, I peer down, and there he is.

Standing outside under the streetlight, hands in his pockets, Gojo looks up at me.

My eyes immediately lock on him—me—standing outside under the glow of a streetlight.

He waves up at me, flashing a grin so effortlessly smug, it looks almost unnatural on my face.

I freeze, clutching the curtain tightly. "What...?" I whisper, but the word gets lost somewhere between disbelief and the ridiculousness of it all.

I glance down at the oversized shirt and sweats I'm wearing—his clothes, technically. Still, curiosity tugs at me. I sigh, grabbing a jacket, and head downstairs.

The chill of the night air hits my face as I step outside, a welcome contrast to the stifling warmth of my—his—room. I tug the jacket closer around me. "What are you doing?" I ask, trying to keep my voice even, though a small smile tugs at my lips.

"My hair is a mess," he says, gesturing at my—his—hair.

I roll my eyes. "Well, I was sleeping," I reply, though the corner of my mouth betrays me with an upwards twitch.

He narrows his eyes, leaning slightly closer. "Don't lie—you weren't."

I huff, crossing my arms, but I can't stop the smile that finally breaks free. "Fine. I wasn't. What's your excuse for being out here in the middle of the night?"

He grins lazily, shoving his hands into the pockets of his—my—hoodie. "Couldn't sleep. Figured you couldn't either."

I shake my head, a small laugh escaping. "So you just decided to wake me up and drag me out here for...what, exactly?"

His grin widens as he shrugs. "Figured you'd look funny in my pajamas under the moonlight."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, brushing him off as I glance around the quiet street. "What is it, though?"

He tilts his head, giving me a look that's almost too casual. "Do your parents always drop bombs on you in the middle of the night and expect you to be okay with it?"