Look at Me (Satoru Gojo x OC)

2: November 10

4:49 P.M.

She leaned against the wall and closed her dry eyes in hopes of moisturizing them. The three extra hours she spent at the hospital playing with the children had disrupted her sleep schedule. Unfortunately she could not catch up on sleep today either because of an inconsiderate amount of homework and this long shift at work.

She opened her eyes comfortably and blinked rapidly a few times. Closing her eyes did alleviate her dry eye symptoms.

She stared through the window into the darkness. It was around this time of the evening when that man had entered the wagashi shop last week. Since then, she thought about him, the way his eyes had seemed to look through her. His eyes that perceived her as simply an existence revealed his emotional detachment from the world, fitting only for an embodiment of hubris.

She did not expect to see him again. Every week, she met a few newcomers to Toriya whom she would never encounter again. He was no different, and perhaps that was for the best.

The bells abruptly rang at the sudden movement of the door and the said man ducked under the door frame. She instinctively bowed, which luckily hid her subtle cringe. "Welcome!"

He approached the counter with a smile, once again reminding her of the huge height difference. Unlike last week, he was wearing a casual outfit, consisting of a black hoodie and black pants. He placed his elbow on the counter to support his hand that his chin soon rested on. His casual position decreased the height difference so she now stood slightly above him, yet she took one step back away from the counter subconsciously.

"You remember me?" he asked.

"Yes," she honestly answered, "you were the customer who bought daifuku."

"Bingo! Though I'm not surprised you remember. I mean, I am unforgettable."

Without an idea how to respond to the unnecessarily smug comment, she simply laughed to be polite.

"The daifuku was also unforgettable," he continued, "so I came again to try the other daifuku. Any suggestions?"

Instantly she thought of the delights she consumed after every shift. "The Mont Blanc daifuku is unconventional but it's my personal favorite."

"Then I'll take six Mont Blanc daifuku." He noticed her reach for a big box. "Wait, I want them in two boxes. Three in each." She obliged silently and took two smaller boxes instead.

He observed her patiently as she prepared his order. From the several minutes he has known her, he could tell that she was a diligent and serious worker. She was neither loquacious nor taciturn and was mostly inexpressive except for her regular friendly smiles that were more polite than genuine.

"Do you dislike me?" he asked.

Surprised, she abruptly paused her task. "No, I don't," she answered before resuming.

"Hmm..." His eyes flickered to the daifuku that was being packaged, soon to be enjoyed on the train ride back, before he directed his attention back to her. "What's your name?"

She looked up. "What do you want?" she asked suspiciously.

"Can I not be interested in you?"

Her shock at the unexpected, straightforward question was evident as she blankly stared at him. She did not answer him and turned her attention back to taping the boxes.

"Oh!" he exclaimed in realization. "I guess that was rude of me for not introducing myself first. I'm Satoru Gojo. And you?"

"Mana Amano." She did not look up even as she answered his question and proceeded to put the daifuku in a bag.

"Ah, put only one in the bag."

She glanced at him briefly before setting down the bag and box in front of him. "Your total is 600 yen." He stood up straight, his weight no longer supported by the counter he had been leaning on, and took out his wallet, from which he found the right amount of change and placed the coins on the tray. "Would you like a receipt?" she asked as she processed the money.

"It's fine. Instead, I'll give you my number!" He waved around a piece of paper that he had prepared prior to their encounter. When she simply stood there and made no move to take the paper, he laughed and placed it on the countertop. "I know, I know. I'm giving you my number. Must be surreal, huh? It's usually the other way around."

He grabbed the bag and turned around to leave when she spoke, "Wait, your box."

He glanced back and waved his hand. "Ah, I forgot to mention. That's my gift to you, Mana-chan."

She knew that there was no point in trying to force him to take it back. "Oh. Um...Thank you, I suppose."

"In return, text me," he told her with a wink and shut the door behind him.

The bells tinkled in his absence. For some reason, they sounded oddly louder than usual.

8:32 P.M.

A crumpled piece of paper with a phone number laid on the desk in front of her.

"Text me," he had said.

She thought about the ideal situation: he would forget about her, she would not text him, and they would never have to interact ever again. But he did buy her the Mont Blanc daifuku, and she would feel guilty if she didn't text him like he had asked.

She typed in the number before she looked up at the ceiling, deliberating over her first message to him. Eventually, she turned her attention back to her phone.

Hey, she typed out. She deleted it.

Hello Gojo-san, this is Mana, she typed out. She deleted it.

Thank you for the daifuku, she typed out. She reread the sentence over and over. It was better.

Someone knocked on the door. She jumped at the sudden interruption, causing her phone to fall out of her hands, but she caught it successfully before it hit the floor.

Her roommate opened the door. "Mana, I'm going to the convenience store to grab some dinner. Do you want any?" she asked.

Mana shook her head no. "I just had cup ramen. Thanks though."

"Okay," her roommate said before closing the door.

Mana looked back at her phone and felt her heart drop. The message was delivered. She turned off her phone and groaned, burying her face in her hands in regret. She groaned even louder when her phone sounded, alerting her of a text message that she dreaded to read. She looked at her phone anyway.

no problem! u can pay me back on our date, the text read. She scoffed at the last word of the text before her phone dinged again. so when are u free?

I am busy this week, she typed. It was a perfectly reasonable excuse. She sent it.

what about next week?

I am also busy next week.

next next week??

She groaned in annoyance at his persistency. I am busy then too.

next next next week????

She blocked him.