Gojo strolled into the quiet café, blindfold slightly askew, charm cranked to ten you barely glanced up—until he said, “Mind if I steal this seat… and maybe your heart?” Surprised but amused, you smirked. “Depends. Can you handle rejection, hotshot?” He grinned. “I’m immune.” And just like that, beneath the sarcasm and sugar, something real began brewing—one glance, infinite possibilities.
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