𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 (𝓖𝓸𝓳𝓸 𝔁 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻)

.｡*♡ Bright .｡*♡

word count: 2,014

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 𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, most of which- to y/n's amusement- consisted of combatting those aforementioned curses which she could not see. Though she resided by Gojo as the trio entered a rather shabby and rundown building, she could see blurs of bodies flying by shattered windows as the students bobbed and lunged at whatever it was her eyes could not perceive.

As the students ventured deeper into the abandoned facility and out of eyeshot, her mind had begun to wander back to Oasis. Back to where an unfinished piece sat impatiently, wrapped in a dampened towel to prevent it's exterior from drying. Her fingers had started to subconsciously fiddle amongst each other as if an invisible substance was there to mend into a figment of what she had in mind for the finished product. Not only was the festering presence of urgency in her mind, but a huge wave of stress clouded her head, growing bigger and bigger the longer the sculpture took.

Yes, y/n had revealed to Gojo the exhibition on the day that she had invited Gojo for breakfast, but she had left out the part about how it wasn't a simple invitation that the gallery had plainly given to her. No. Embarrassingly enough, she had to beg to get into this thing. For hours. It took a span of four days, sitting on the phone until someone answered, requesting a director just to then be rejected or put on hold for an ungodly amount of time. By some miracle, she had finally convinced the director to look up her work and past successions, to which he allowed her entry. It damaged what little she had left of her pride, but she couldn't be snobby. After all, rent was nearing, and she lacked the money needed to save her studio.

The more she delved into the stress, the faster her fingers worked around themselves.

Gojo glanced downwards, slightly amused at the instinctive habit he had developed awareness of over the past few months, though he had no clue about the thoughts behind it.

He supposed it had been about three hours since he'd forced her out of the studio, so it was probably okay for her to return to the project- under his self proclaimed jurisdiction, of course. Surprisingly, Gojo found himself to have grown more and more eager for the finished product. Not that he had lacked any sense of enthusiasm for y/n getting an invitation to the exhibition, but more in the sense that he had been a component in her mindset, in her inspiration. After all, he'd been the one to point out the referenced picture, to which- as he warmly recalled- y/n's beautiful face lit up in such a wholehearted way it made him melt.

Satoru reached a hand towards her wriggling fingers, settling them and diverting her attention to his.

"I'll take you home right after this," he told her with a dip of his head.

As if she were embarrassed by the habitual fidgeting, y/n smiled softly, clearing her throat soon after. She was careful to keep her expression even, not wanting her friend to worry about her.

"What have you gotten so far?" Gojo continued in context of the sculpture. Y/n shrugged haplessly.

"Not as much as I'd hoped I would, but hey, I'm pretty deep into it. I've got the base done which is a relief."

Satoru nodded his head in understanding, even though he had little to no knowledge in sculpting. His hands- like a magnet, returned to hers, now observing the accumulation of clay in her nails.

"When you get close to finishing, do you think I could learn a bit from you?" he asked out of the blue.

Y/n looked at him, but his gaze stayed trained on her hands.