Look at Me (Satoru Gojo x OC)

3: November 11

3:35 P.M.

Piano Concerto No. 2 in C minor by Rachmaninov played softly through her earphones. It was a masterpiece of lush orchestration, expressive melodies, and sublime virtuosity that confirmed his recovery from severe depression and writer's block. Hypnotized by the composition, her fingers laid still on her keyboard as she stared at her laptop. She had yet to overcome her own writer's block.

Suddenly, someone pulled on her right earbud, reintroducing her to the external world. She was sitting at a table outside in a quieter part of campus; she never expected anyone to disturb her solitude, especially with the colder weather chasing students into the cozy indoors. As a result, an embarrassing squeak escaped her mouth. Even with the piano concerto playing effusively in her left ear, her unoccupied ear captured a chuckle. Her amber eyes widened at the man standing imposingly next to her.

"Satoru Gojo," she breathed.

A grin adorned his perfect face. "Sorry, Mana-chan, didn't mean to take you by surprise," he said, the amusement clear in his voice. He did not seem apologetic at all.

Unlike others who would have been fine with using only one earbud, she wanted to listen to the speaker with her full attention, even if his visit was rather precipitate. She took off her earphones completely and shoved them in their designated pocket in her black laptop bag hanging on the back of her chair.

He pulled out the chair across from her—it was a table for two—and sat down in a relaxed manner, the back of the chair supporting the weight of his upper body. On the contrary, Mana was sitting rigidly upright, and her gold, round glasses and the scattered papers and laptop on the table added to the image of productivity. It was but an image: she had been staring at the laptop screen for around half an hour now.

"So what are you writing about?" he asked curiously. Then he recalled the blank document that he saw when he took out her earphone. "Well, trying to write about."

"History."

"I thought you were a psychology major?"

"History is part of the core curriculum." She paused to read his expression: his lips were upturned to form his usual superficial smile, and his eyes were hidden by his sunglasses. "May I ask why you're here?"

"You're really asking me that?" he whined and leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. "When you're the one who blocked me before we could even schedule our date."

"I told you that I'm busy."

"I don't doubt that since you're a college student with a part-time job, but surely you have time for one date."

She could not refute his claim; if she wanted to, she could easily give up her time for reading philosophy books. These days, she was particularly interested in the topic of human nature. Instead she asked, "Where did you hear that I'm a psychology major at Tokyo University?"

His signature smirk widened into a mischievous smile. "I'll tell you on our date."

Her only response was a snort of incredulity. She was not shallow enough to go on a date with a good-looking man with stalker tendencies whom she barely knew. And it was clear that he treated this like a game of cat and mouse. She closed her laptop and gathered her papers.

"So date time?" he asked excitedly.

In the midst of packing her things into her bag, she paused to look up at him for a brief moment. "No, I told you that I'm busy," she answered before resuming her task at hand.

"Then where are you going?"

She zipped her bag shut and stood up, slinging it over her shoulder. "To the hospital."