Gojo spends the next hour coloring everything with Haru.
Bob the Builder, the Cookie Monster, Dora the Explorer—you name it.
When the younger one eventually rearranges the papers to show his babysitter his own grand masterpiece, Gojo instead bites his lower lip in a sorry attempt to hide his disgust.
"Why the heck is SpongeBob green?"
He's yellow, dumbass, the man wants to add.
He has to remind himself that he was talking to an oblivious four-year-old, and it would be easy to hurt his feelings.
Too late.
The little boy's confidence is already crushed, his smile tipping downwards while his thin brows now knit with a little confusion, a little sadness.
"But green is my favorite color."
There's a slight quiver to his voice as Haru grows sad and even angry at the SpongeBob coloring that he was once so proud of.
"Is green a bad color?" he timidly asks.
When tears start gathering in his child's lashes, Gojo swallows the lump in his throat, unsure what to say or do.
One thing is clear, however.
If Haru runs back to you and wakes you up with puffy eyes and a running nose, Gojo knows very well that he would be done for.
Acting on whatever paternal instincts is in him, Gojo lowers himself to the floor and brings Haru to his arms, rubbing the boy's back.
"No, no. Green is a wonderful color."
That's an absolute lie.
Green is disgusting.
But for Haru's sake, he'll have to concede.
"This green SpongeBob is so special, just like you," Gojo adds with a smile, pressing a forefinger at Haru's nose. "So, don't be sad. I'll make some spaghetti for dinner tonight, okay?"
When the tiny ball of sunshine starts to light up again, Gojo can't help but grin stupidly with him, his chest relaxing thanks to the evaporating guilt and worry.
"While I do that," the sorcerer stands up, "help me think of a movie to watch, alright? We'll watch with dinner."
Children are often quick to forgive, and the offer makes Haru beam almost as though his father had never offended him in the first place.
"Okay!" the boy shouts, tiny hands up in the air with excitement.
Once Gojo finally steps into the kitchen, he starts searching through the fridge and cabinets to gather his ingredients: cheeses, tomatoes, chicken, and dried herbs.
Soon, he realizes that he has everything he needs but one—the actual spaghetti itself.
Although Gojo would like to switch his dinner idea into something else, he decides against it.
The change might just disappoint Haru, and that's simply something that he had done already and could not do again.
Instead, Gojo determines to ask you for help, walking down the hall to the closed bedroom door, knocking on the wooden surface to gently call your name.
When you didn't respond, he suddenly grows irritated and restless.
"Hey, wake up!" he shouts this time, a frown quickly present on his handsome face. "Are you even alive in there?"
Again, there is no reply.
As a result, Gojo huffs to himself and grabs at the doorknob, not thinking twice as he forces the door open.
First, his eyes instinctively scan the room.
The walls are beige and littered with minimalistic artistic and framed photos.
At the other side of the room, there's a smaller bed—one that is a bit shorter in both the height and length dimensions.
Judging from the abundance of Squishmallows and unicorn Beanie Boos, that must be Haru's little enclave.
Just right before that, there's a larger, queen-sized bed.
And then, Gojo spots you.
Even with your form wrapped under the blankets, for a moment, he holds his breath by the doorway.
Your body is limp and your lips are slightly parted, not to mention that the sheets have no shame in accentuating your body's natural curves.
With you sleeping, he knows that he shouldn't be here.
He knows that he shouldn't be observing you like this.
Yet, you are irresistible, and he is just another man allured by your magic.
Closing the door behind him, Gojo nears your sleeping figure, his eyes almost bulging when they catch sight of the panties that ride too high up your cheeks.
"Hey, girlie," he hums, trying very hard to not stare so impolitely at your behind. "I need your help."
His voice is barely above a whisper.
Gojo will never wake you up at this rate.
However, he doesn't want to speak any louder almost as though—deep down—he really did not want to stir you awake at all.
Instead, he autopilots into the empty space next to you.
Both worn out and a certified heavy sleeper, you don't shift the slightest as Gojo joins you on the bed, your soft exhales the only response you provide.
Smiling gently, Gojo's head lowers into an empty pillow.
All his bubbly feelings dissipate when the realization that this is Nanami's spot slaps him hard across the face.
Overwhelmed by his influx of weekly missions weaved between very important trips to his favorite sweet shops, his busy schedule has offered a temporary distraction to reality.
Because Gojo would bump into you outdoors, he would forget that you had another man back home.
Plus, that other man was his former underclassman out of all people.
Heck, would Gojo literally do anything to trade places with Nanami.
You are as youthful and sweet as the day he'd met you, face so heavenly but so sinful all at once.
The smell of your perfume, the soft and peachy scent of your shampoo—this all gets Gojo dizzy, sending butterflies dancing in his stomach.
An unexpected blossoms in Gojo's chest, sparks igniting as he leans in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time.
Almost.
Almost brushing.
Just before his lips pressed against yours, Gojo freezes.
He realizes that he should at least drill at least the slightest bit of reason into himself, deciding against toying with your feelings or with his own.
Pulling back, he readies himself to roll off the bed and exit.
Gojo stops, though, when a physical force draws him back, and he is unable to move beyond a certain point on the mattress.
He immediately looks down to see your hand grabbing hard at his shirt, holding onto him to never let him go.
Turning around, he notices that you are still deeply asleep, but you have begun blubbering a string of incoherent sentences in your slumber.
Cute, Gojo thinks.
He's still about to pull your hand off.
Until he hears one question that he couldn't ignore:
"Can you kiss me?"
Gojo is the type to tease his kid a lot, heh.
next update: next friday!