It’s raining hard enough that the city sounds blurred — like everything is happening underwater.

You’re in your apartment, hair half-dry, wearing an oversized sweater and standing at the sink, staring at a mug of tea like it personally offended you.

Then—

Tap. Tap.

You freeze.

Your apartment is on the third floor.

You slowly turn.

Another tap hits the window.

When you pull the curtain back, you almost drop your mug.

Gojo is outside.

Soaked. White hair plastered to his face. One hand gripping the window ledge. The other waving cheerfully.

You slide the window open just enough to glare at him.

“Are you insane?”

“Possibly,” he says. “But I’m also dramatic. Let me in.”

You step back as he climbs through the window, dripping rainwater all over your floor. He straightens up like he just walked in through a front door instead of scaling a building.

You cross your arms. “You have a key.”

He points at the rain outside. “Yeah, but this was more fun.”

You grab a towel and throw it at his face. “You’re going to catch a cold, CEO.”

He catches it, grinning. “Worth it.”

He rubs his hair dry, then looks around your apartment like he hasn’t been here a hundred times already.

“You know,” he says casually, “most people invite me in.”

“You’re not most people.”

“Wow,” he replies. “That hurt.”

You go back to your tea. He follows, leaning against the counter, too close — close enough that you can feel the cold from the rain still clinging to him.

He glances at you. “You didn’t even scream.”

“I knew it was you,” you say. “Only you would break into a third-floor window in a storm for no reason.”

He smiles — not the flashy one.

The soft one.

“So you do know me.”