Chapter Text
𝑬𝒙𝒕𝒓𝒂 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕
- ── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ── -
The Sigma Beta Phi fraternity house was still asleep, the bright afternoon light illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. In the master suite on the second floor, Satoru Gojo stirred in his bed, the cheap bed springs groaning beneath his weight as he reached blindly for his phone on the nightstand. 11:42 AM.
Satoru Gojo was exactly the kind of college student professors warn incoming freshmen about, charming, reckless, and coasting through university on his father's substantial donations to the alumni fund. As president of the most notorious party fraternity on campus, his life was a carefully constructed balance between maintaining the frat, and ensuring his social calendar remained perpetually booked.
The frat house smelled like stale beer, but he'd grown immune to the scent after three years. Rolling out of bed, he kicked aside a red solo cup that had somehow found its way onto his bedroom floor during last night's impromptu Tequila Thursday celebration. His room was the master suite on the second floor, presidential privileges, he called it, though it currently resembled the aftermath of a small natural disaster.
Clothes were scattered across every surface, textbooks lay open to pages he'd meant to read before getting distracted, and his laptop displayed a half-written sociology paper due two days ago. He'd finish it. Eventually. Probably not. A faint, lingering perfume from last night's conquest still hung in the air, a testament to another successful evening of leveraging his title and looks.
After a quick shower in the bathroom down the hall, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back to his room. The house was beginning to stir with the faint sounds of someone retching in the downstairs bathroom.
"Satoru! You up?" Suguru's voice carried from the hallway. His best friend and fraternity vice-president leaned against his doorframe, looking irritatingly put-together in an oversized black band shirt and baggy jeans. "Professor Nanami is going to have your ass if you're late again."
Gojo grinned, running a hand through his dripping white hair. "Relax. I've still got eighteen minutes before class starts."
Suguru rolled his eyes, the gesture familiar after years of friendship. "You said that yesterday before you missed our group presentation."
"Whatever, blah blah blah," Satoru waved dismissively, already digging through the mountain of clothing on his floor for something clean enough to wear. "Save me a seat?"
"Like I have a choice," Suguru sighed, though they both knew he was as loyal as they came. "Meet you downstairs in ten. And god, clean up in here, it looks like a barn."
"Love you too," Satoru called after him as Suguru walked away. Pulling on a pair of shorts and a navy hoodie, he grabbed his backpack, already packed with his phone charger, wallet, and one notebook he'd occasionally doodle in during lectures. The sociology textbook remained on his desk, untouched.
As he descended the grand staircase of the fraternity house, he passed several hungover brothers making their way to class. The common room was still littered with evidence of last night's party, empty cups, a broken beer bottle, a passed-out pledge on the couch. Classic mornings.
"President!" called a freshman brother whose name he couldn't remember. "We got a noise complaint from the neighbors. Again."
"Just tell ‘em we'll keep it down next time," Satoru replied with a wink, already halfway out the door. The warm spring air hit his face as he stepped outside. The campus was buzzing with activity, the quad bustling with students.
His sociology classroom was on the far side of campus, past the library and in the back corner of the science building. He took the scenic route, nodding to acquaintances and exchanging greetings with people he barely knew but who all seemed to know him. Such was the burden of being campus royalty.
"Gojo! My man!" shouted a guy he vaguely remembered from the basketball team. "Party at your place Friday?"
"You know it," Satoru called back, already mentally calculating whether he could fit it between the mixer with the Delta Gamma sorority and his time at the gym.
He arrived at the sociology building with exactly two minutes to spare, slipping into the back of the lecture hall just as Professor Nanami was arranging his notes at the podium. Suguru had indeed saved him a seat, in the furthest corner of the classroom.
"You're cutting it close," Suguru whispered as Satoru dropped into the seat beside him.
"I thrive on the adrenaline," Satoru replied with a grin, pulling out his phone to scroll through Instagram notifications while the professor began his lecture.
"Today we'll be discussing social dynamics and interpersonal relationships through the lens of observational research," Professor Nanami announced, his voice carrying through the lecture hall. "And I have an announcement about your semester project."
Satoru tuned out most of the introduction, something about group assignments and practical applications of sociological principles, until he heard the phrase "mandatory partners" and his eyes snapped up. The professor was gesturing to a list projected on the big screen.
"You'll be randomly paired with a classmate for a semester-long research partnership," she explained. "These partnerships cannot be changed, so I suggest you all learn to work together. Your partner assignments are posted on the course website."
Suguru groaned beside him.
Satoru was already pulling up the course website on his phone, scrolling through the list until he found his name. And beside it... He frowned. "Who's that?"
"No idea," Suguru shrugged, already distracted by his own assignment. "Looks like I'm stuck with some nobody. Joy."
The professor continued explaining the project requirements, but Satoru's mind was already wandering. A semester-long partnership with some random classmate? Annoying, but manageable. He'd just charm his way through it, let them do most of the work, and coast to another easy A. Same as always.
"Remember," Professor Nanami concluded, "this project accounts for forty percent of your final grade. I expect professional conduct and substantive research from all of you. You'll need to meet with your partners before next class to establish your research parameters."
The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and students began filing out of the lecture hall. Satoru gathered his things slowly, in no particular hurry to meet this mystery partner who would inevitably become the latest addition to his long list of people whose academic efforts he'd benefit from.
"Well," Suguru said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, "good luck with your project. Or better yet, good luck to your partner."
"Where's your faith in me?" Satoru asked with mock offense. "I'm an excellent partner."
Suguru smirked. "See you at the house later. Don't be late for dinner, pizza tonight.”
He watched Suguru disappear into the crowded hallway. Alone now, he pulled up the course roster again, searching for a photo to accompany the name.
There it was, a small, grainy photo of someone looking unimpressed to be having their picture taken, dark, annoyed eyes, hair slightly mussed. Nothing remarkable. Satoru shrugged, closing the tab. He'd find them soon enough.
You sat in the back corner of the campus coffee shop, your third cup of coffee growing cold in front of you. The sociology course syllabus lay open on the table, but your eyes kept darting to the door every time it opened, anxiety coiling in your stomach. When you had checked the course website, (three times since class), each time confirming the same thing: your assigned partner for the semester-long research project was Satoru Gojo.
The name alone made you grit your teeth. Everyone on campus knew Satoru Gojo, he was impossible to avoid. The loud, obnoxious president of Sigma Beta Phi, a walking stereotype about Greek life. Parties every weekend, girls draped over him like accessories, a reputation for coasting through classes on privilege alone. You'd seen him around campus plenty of times, always surrounded by friends, always the center of attention, always looking like he'd just rolled out of bed after a night of debauchery.
And now both of you were stuck together for the next sixteen weeks. With a thirty percent grade hanging in the balance! The injustice of it all made the coffee taste more bitter than usual.
The bell above the coffee shop door chimed, and he walked in, as if summoned by the sheer contempt oozing from you. Satoru Gojo, in the flesh. He looked even more obnoxious in person than he did from across a crowded quad. His white hair was artfully messy, falling into those startlingly blue eyes.
He scanned the coffee shop, his gaze sweeping past tables of studying students before landing on them. A cocky grin spread across his face, and he started making his way toward your table, weaving through chairs with grace that was irritating to witness.
"Hey," he said, sliding into the seat opposite yours without invitation. "You're my partner, right? Socio project?"
You nodded stiffly, pulling the syllabus closer as if it were a shield. "Yeah, that's me."
"Great," Satoru said, leaning back in his chair and draping an arm over the back. "I was hoping we could make this quick. I've got a thing in like, an hour."
"A thing?" you repeated, unable to keep the skepticism out of your voice.
"Yeah, a thing," he replied, his grin never faltering, though there was a hint of steel in his eyes now. "Fraternity stuff. You know how it is."
"No. No I really wouldn't," you said flatly, opening your notebook to a fresh page. "Look, I think we should establish some ground rules first. Since this project is thirty percent of our grade, I think it's important that we—"
"Whoa, slow down there," Satoru interrupted, holding up his hands. "Ground rules? It's a simple project. We pick some topic, write some stuff, and present it. Easy."
Your jaw tightened. "The syllabus says we need to conduct original research, including at least twenty hours of observation and a minimum of fifteen scholarly sources. That's a massive amount of work."
Satoru shrugged, unfazed. "We'll figure it out. Listen, I'm good at the presentation part. You seem like you're good at the work part. So we'll find a balance."
The condescension in his voice was so thick you could practically taste it. "A balance?" you scoffed. "You mean I'll do all the work and you'll take half the credit. Do you think I’m stupid?"
Annoyance crosses his features before being replaced by that same infuriating charm. "Not at all. I'll contribute. But, I'm just trying to get through the semester with a decent GPA so my dad doesn't cut me off."
"Right," you said, scribbling something in your notebook with more force than necessary. "Tragic, really."
Satoru leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. The casual movement brought his face closer to yours, and you were struck again by how unfairly attractive he was. It made his personality even more infuriating. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, but you're coming off pretty hostile for someone I just met five minutes ago. Did I do something to piss you off or whatever?"
He huffed as you stayed silent, crossing his tanned arms. "Well! Since we're stuck together for the semester, maybe we could try to be civil? At least until the project is done."
A headache was forming behind your eyes, a familiar companion to the never-ending anxiety. "I expect equal contribution from you. Equal work, equal grade."
"Whatever you say," Satoru said, though his dry tone suggested he was just humoring them. "So, topics? We need to pick something from the list."
You slid a copy of the syllabus across the table.
"Here. I've already circled some potential options that seem the most manageable within the timeframe."
Satoru glanced at the paper, then back at them, one eyebrow raised. "You've already picked? It's been like, two hours since class."
"I like to be prepared," they said pointedly.
"...Right," he said, scanning the list. "Hmm, the social dynamics of Greek life could be interesting. I've got some insider knowledge on th-."
"Absolutely not," you said immediately. "The whole point of observational research is objectivity."
"How about campus dating rituals?" he suggested, completely ignoring your point. "I could be a valuable asset there too." Satoru smirks, arching his brows at you.
"I'm sure." you said dryly.
Satoru sighed theatrically, flopping back in his chair. "You're no fun, you know that? Fine, you pick. What's your brilliant idea?"
You pointed to a different section of the syllabus. "Study habits and academic performance correlation. It's straightforward, there's plenty of existing research to build on, and it doesn't require us to interact with people who might be influenced by your reputation on campus."
"Study habits?" Satoru repeated, making a face. "You want to spend the semester watching people study? Why?"
"Because it’s research… And that’s the point," you hissed through gritted teeth. "And it's better than the alternative, which is you trying to pick up girls for a grade."
Satoru rolled his eyes. "God! Fine, study habits it is. When do you want to start?"
"I was thinking that we meet at the library tomorrow afternoon to outline our research methods and divide up the initial literature review," you said, pointing out different paragraphs on the syllabus.
Satoru's smile tightened slightly. "Tomorrow? I've got chapter meetings until like, five. And then there's the friday mixer with Delta Gamma..."
"Fine, Saturday," you said firmly. "Morning. Before the entire Greek system gets collectively blackout drunk."
"Saturday morning?" Satoru looked positively horrified at the suggestion. "That’s my rest day."
"Do you want to pass this class or not?" you asked, exasperated.
He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Fine. Saturday. But we're meeting somewhere with drinks, and food. Lots of food. And you're buying."
The idea was laughable, you snorted. "Hell no. You’re the nepo baby."
"Exactly," Satoru said with a grin that was suddenly more predatory. "Which means I need to save my money for important things."
Before you could respond to his latest insult, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, his expression shifting immediately. "Shit. I've gotta go."
"Of course," you muttered under your breath, already packing your things.
"Hey," Satoru said, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Saturday. Ten a.m. At that coffee place on south campus. And don't be late."
"Hypocrite," you said pointedly.
He grins at you again. "See you then."
And with that, he was gone, leaving the scent of cologne in his wake. You had survived the first meeting, but you had a sinking feeling that the next sixteen weeks were going to be the longest of your academic career.