Work Text:
It's a terrible thing for Kusuo.
He can get used to other feelings just fine. More these past few years than the rest of his life. Emotions like frustration or disgust; both are so easily processed, a straight forward thing, A to B. He isn't confused at all when he's grossed out, or when he feels the need to sink for the bottom of the ocean and think for a while. Simple problems with simple solutions.
It's a terrible thing for him then, when he finally feels the absolute displeasure of emotions that aren't as simple as that.
Out of the many things he will never admit to anyone, himself worst of all, is that the merry band of idiots following him around changed anything in his life for the better, but there have been complications to their, well. Kusuo refuses to call it friendship, as that would imply it's a mutual feeling of kinship, rather than the one sided acquaintanceship he feels it is.
He's felt outraged, disappointed, confused, worried. Layered emotions, things he thought he'd never feel, information about himself he thought he'd never face and it's all because of them. He's powerful, with abilities that surpass anyone the human species has ever birthed, but a simple group of high schoolers can undo all the hard work he's put into his indifference without really trying.
It's annoying.
The worst offender by far, the one he cannot even name, because naming it would mean it actually exists and frankly, there's no other thing that has scared him so much as this.
He would say it's like being sick, but he rarely get sick and what he has contracted feels nearly pleasurable compared to this.
It's a rolling pit in his stomach, the abnormal beat of his heart and the biggest cracks in his perfectly manicured mask of indifference.
It's the sweat in his palms, the unfocused quality of his eyes and the heat that crawls up his back.
For him, it's also the tendril of shame that grips his throat, closing his eyes and focusing on the back of his eyelids to stop staring and the awkward feeling of his nails pressing into his palms.
He feels so much. Too much. He's angry, ashamed, frustrated, melancholic, and so content and emotional Kusuo wants to throw up.
He'll never show it. He'll never say it to anyone. If possible, he wants to take this to the grave, even if he dies thinking of brightly colored eyes and a smile for Kusuo. Only for him-
What a terrible, awful thing.
