Chapter Text
Saiki didn’t need psychic powers to see the way Kuboyasu was head over heels with Kaidou.
Kuboyasu, when he first met him, was one of the world’s worst actors hiding a secret the size of Japan; an innocent little transfer student on the outside, delinquent with a sadistic streak a mile wide on the inside. Saiki relied on his mind-reading to get the full truth, after all, why did he have to assume something he might be wrong about, when his mind was assaulted by the truth immediately.
Despite that, only someone dumb, or just painfully unobservant, could miss his posture and the set of his wide shoulders; the severe scarring that decorated nearly every inch of skin hidden by long sleeve shirts; the smaller, yet not insignificant ones that were scattered around his face; the crooked bridge of a nose that has been broken one too many times; the rough set of hands that have been used to fix motorcycles just as much as they’ve been abused to hurt and maim. He could go on, really. Kuboyasu hid, but not very well. All his classmates are just on the wrong side of thick-headed.
He has also taught Saiki to not judge a book by its cover, or perhaps, by its limited summary. Through time he’d come to learn that Kuboyasu wasn’t all blood and violence, and had come to appreciate his efforts to try and be a new person, despite the background he comes from. Saiki would have never accepted Kuboyasu if he didn’t know that on the inside, he was a man who is painfully loyal to those he cares about, and noble to those who deserve it. There is a softness that has set in, in the company of people as him and his friends, living a life that is (relatively) calm and violence-free, but more than anything he thinks—no, he knows that there’s no one who can bring out the softness in Kuboyasu like Kaidou Shun.
Saiki might not be able to read thoughts anymore, but he’s far from blind. He can see the crinkle in Kuboyasu’s eyes when he looks at Kaido, the way his resting bitch face is obliterated by the presence of the other; he can see the way his hard edges soften, the way his grip becomes loose on the straps of his backpack, the easy way his blush rises and sweat pools on the back of his neck; he can see the way he occasionally packs a little too much for his lunch and brightens when Kaidou compliments his cooking; he can see the reverent way his mouth curls around the name Shun. Saiki sees it so much that he wishes he could stop seeing it entirely.
(But then again, he’s also comforted by the fact that Kaidou, who also loves deeply, is loved back in such a genuine way. Kaidou might be awkward as hell, and he might be delusional and childish, but he deserves all the ways in which Kuboyasu loves him.)
So, again, Saiki might not have his powers, but he’s not dumb, and he’s not blind. There are many things he’s uncertain of in this new powerless world; there are many things that make him anxious because of this newfound uncertainty, but if he’s sure of one thing, it’s the way Kuboyasu loves Kaidou.
“Saiki,” Kuboyasu whisper-yells, breaking the mid-morning quiet of Cafe Mami on a Sunday, bowing so deep despite the table in the way, that his forehead can’t be more than a centimeter away from it. “ Please, would you go out with me?”
Good grief, he thinks briefly, before his brain automatically floods him with panic as he inhales his coffee.
The thing is, Saiki doesn’t hate love.
Love is too general of a concept to hate. He himself loves many things. His parents, annoying as they are; his friends, annoying as they are, and sweets, with coffee jelly topping that subject.
He hates, to an extent, romantic love; or, better described, the shallow way people ‘love’ romantically. Loving for looks, money, power; all those things that had never interested Saiki. Beauty is only skin deep, a phrase he knew intimately was very real, and money is worth nothing when you can get anything you want, considering he used to be the most powerful being in the world. He had, or, more accurately, could obtain the trifecta, and those things were meaningless to him. He willingly gave that away, and those things still mean absolutely nothing to him. Romantic love, as society had drilled into his mind, consciously and subconsciously, simply was not something that Saiki held much hope for.
Little by little, people like his parents, like Kuboyasu and even Teruhashi began to change his mind on the subject, making him think that selfless, unconditional, forever love could be something found outside of fiction.
Though he was perhaps wrong to do so.
Stray drops of coffee and spit trail down slowly from the corners of his mouth like his steadily dropping respect for Kuboyasu as a person, who throws napkins at him like that’s going to fix the fact that he’s proved Saiki wrong on the one thing he thought he could never be wrong about.
The coffee in his mouth tastes like disappointment.
Suddenly there are two shadows looming over their table, one of them reaching forward with a handkerchief to try and clean whatever coffee traces remain on his face. He flinches because he’s jumpy nowadays, but there’s a nicely pitched voice who shushes him as they grab his chin and move it in whatever way to clean him up. The other person is scolding Kuboyasu in a way he’s only ever from her.
Teruhashi and Yumehara.
“I can’t believe you just outright said it!” Yumehara chides, in her distinct high-pitched anime girl voice, “These things take a delicate approach, Kuboyasu!”
“That could have gone smoother,” Teruhashi responds for Kuboyasu, her tone placating. Yumehara deflates immediately. “But I think Kuboyasu was just nervous, weren’t you?”
“Still.” Yumehara pouts, leaving Kuboyasu half-choking an answer, but it only takes a quick caress of Teruhashi’s hand over her cheek for Yumehara to be visibly filled with determination again. “Alright, scoot over.”
Kuboyasu does so immediately, blushing up to his forehead. Across from him, Saiki follows in a daze. Teruhashi stores her now dirty handkerchief in the sensible purse she’s carrying. She’s looking as impeccable as ever, in simple, season-appropriate clothes. Saiki knows very intimately the effort that goes into looking as casually graceful as she always does, and he can definitely respect her for that.
They sit, Yumehara beside Kuboyasu, Teruhashi beside Saiki, as she quickly flags down a waitress that will take their order. A kind smile and four perfectly memorized favorite orders later, Yumehara is staring at Teruhashi with unbridled affection in her gaze.
“I didn’t know you knew my order!” Kuboyasu says, forgoing his mortification for a second to instead look at Teruhashi with wonder, “I don’t think I come here that much.”
The ‘not with you’ goes unsaid.
“You’re my dear friend!” She flashes him a small smile, “I’d say it’s not uncommon to know what your friend likes?”
In the past, Saiki might have heard the ‘Especially if you’re a perfect girl like me!’ coming from her thoughts, but there’s something about her voice, or maybe about her smile, that tells Saiki that even if she was still thinking that today, there’s something genuinely fond about her intentions.
Or maybe he’s wrong. He’s not very sure about much anymore.
A delicate blush rises on Yumehara’s cheeks, which could be the comment, the smile, Teruhashi’s mere presence or all of the above, but Teruhashi’s attention soon turns to Saiki, who has been left to rot in his own shock. At least he’s getting another coffee soon, though he can’t promise he won’t try his very best to drown in it again.
“Kuboyasu-kun started this the wrong way, Saiki-kun,” Teruhashi starts. In her seat, Yumehara grumbles ‘Understatement of the year, Komi,’ as Teruhashi reaches out her hand and crosses her pinky with Yumehara above the table, glancing at her briefly with an indulging smile. Yumehara continues to grumble to herself, inaudibly, with a hearty blush high on her cheeks. She doesn’t move her hand away, and Saiki almost wants to gag. “We just need your help with something important.”
“Let me explain this properly?” She says, with a glint in her eyes that makes Saiki’s hair stand up on the back of his neck. “Please, Saiki-kun?”
He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t be getting involved in whatever wretched situation they’re in. It doesn’t seem like something that will be good for his blood pressure and general sanity. Whatever it is, it’s going to be convoluted and more trouble than it’s worth, judging by Teruhashi and Yumehara’s track record with plans.
He looks at Teruhashi, most of all to avoid looking at Kuboyasu or Yumehara; the former, Saiki can tell from the corner of his eyes, is curling into a ball of self-pity in the corner of the booth; the latter he can’t see, but he knows she’s looking at Teruhashi like she hung the moon and the stars. The downside to looking at Teruhashi herself, though, is she can hit him full on with a look filled with enough hope and manic determination to make him feel like he has to agree. He honestly prefers the days when he saw muscle and bone; it's very hard to be swayed by the grotesque.
“You’re blocking my exit anyway.” He mumbles.
“So, you noticed?” She says, with a little something in her tone and a quirk of the mouth that borders on a smirk, it makes her look as conniving as Saiki knows she is, and he returns it equally with a judgmental raised eyebrow, though nothing can really hide the minuscule pull at the corner of his lips. She notices, fantastic at reading expressions as only she can be, and hides her growing smirk behind her delicate hand like the proper maiden she prides herself on being.
Yumehara is pouting silently, while Kuboyasu is still enjoying his pity party, though he has a curious eye trained on their interactions.
Their waitress arrives with their orders just then, startling everyone out of their respective moods, Teruhashi shining her signature kind smile. It’s a beautiful smile, but it feels slightly fake compared to the smirk from before. Black coffee and a matching coffee jelly are passed to him.
“Talk.”
It's ridiculous.
“It’s ridiculous.” Saiki’s quiet comment sliced the sudden expectant silence like a knife, with a tone so factual and dry he could be talking about the weather. He doesn’t miss Kuboyasu’s flinch, nor Yumehara’s glare, and he focuses on sipping his coffee, pretending to be calm.
There’s silence from Teruhashi, who Saiki has undoubtedly pinned as the ringleader for this insane operation. The nerves bleed from Kuboyasu’s pores in bucketfuls of sweat and Yumehara does her best to console the man, while being nervous herself, heavy with the thought that this scheme relies entirely on Saiki’s benevolence to begin. Not even work, because he doesn’t want to allow them hope that it could ever.
He has to give Teruhashi credit though, it would be a very well-calculated plan, if she lived in a romance novel instead of the real world. Pretend Saiki and Kuboyasu are going on a romantic date, let Kaidou find out, and see if Kaidou expresses jealousy about the fact. Best case scenario he does, Kuboyasu apologizes and explains to him that it was all a misunderstanding and that their love is mutual. Success.
Or a possible failure, Saiki thinks.
“I know what it sounds like,” Teruhashi says carefully, like Saiki might just try to escape the booth by going under the table. “A little unorthodox-”
Saiki has gotten pretty good at hiding his expressions, his cues in the wake of his powers disappearing. Better now than a couple of months back at least. But the scoff he utters in the middle of her sentence only serves to silence the entire table all over again. He doesn’t mind making them uncomfortable if perhaps, they’d leave him alone because of it.
“It’s because of me, sorry.” Kuboyasu mutters, after being silent since his untimely introduction. “I want to know. I need to be sure before I ask if-”
He chokes out with a heavy blush.
There’s something so unendingly frustrating about this ordeal. How can he not see it, how can’t any of them notice how unabashedly smitten the two are about each other. How can they possibly be so blind as to not immediately know that if Kuboyasu got on one knee in front of Kaidou right now, he’d cry and agree in a heartbeat.
Teruhashi, who notices her time has run out with the last sip of Saiki’s coffee, wordlessly gets out of the booth to let him pass, to Yumehara’s confusion and Kuboyasu’s distress. He takes the blessing fully, by getting out of the seat as gracefully and quickly as he can with a dull fury burning behind his ribs.
He almost wants to scream at them. Stop bothering me with mindless nonsense. This should be no one’s business but your own. Your cowardice has nothing to do with me. He loves you back.
Truth of the matter is, he doesn’t actually know. He can’t read minds anymore and when he could, he doesn’t remember Kaidou ever regarding Kuboyasu with that brand of smitten looks and thoughts. Kaidou might like him now, he might not. Point is Saiki will never actually know either and he resents it. For himself, for Kuboyasu. Bitterness, relating to his uncertainty and almost understanding it.
But he 's sure.
He is.
“Just ask him.” Saiki spits out, with too much vitriol in his usually calm voice, not even sparing a glance at the booth as he rushes out the door.
He’s full of tension as he walks down the street, not noticing anyone or anything as he rushes his way back home. People step out of the way for him as he walks, he doesn’t care if his expression isn’t controlled or if the crowd around him can feel the anger bleeding off him in waves.
The worst part, he thinks, is that he has nothing to truly be angry for. He wanted this life, right? He asked, nearly falling over himself for the opportunity to be normal, and now that he is, he’s daring to be resentful for the gift he’d been praying to be taken away his entire life?
Stupid.
Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice the almost empty residential street he was walking down, only occupied by himself and a couple of guys walking in the opposite direction. Naturally, he bumps into one.
“Whoa!” The, definitely fake, redhead he ran into, exclaims dramatically. “You should be more careful, dude.”
Saiki’s beyond caring, so he tilts his head slightly, in silent apology, before he tries to keep on his path.
“ Yo, ” It’s only then, when his collar is grabbed rather harshly by the redheads companion, sporting an even faker mop of neon green hair. “That’s kinda rude of you, don’tcha think?”
It is, however the tone of his voice makes Saiki a lot more irritated. But he knows these kinds of delinquents very well, now that he gets a good look at them. It won’t take long for them to ask for some sort of ‘compensation’ for their ‘injuries’.
“Now, bro, I’m really hurt by this, my heart is truly breaking in half.” The redhead mock cries, putting on a sorrowful expression that serves to make his face even more unflattering than it is. “I think you owe me something, for all this emotional turmoil.”
At least their scripts are getting more advanced, Saiki muses, he doesn’t think he’s personally heard the emotional damage compensation line before. He rolls his eyes, and digs out his wallet from his back pocket. He doesn’t want any serious trouble, after all, and he presumes they’re only after his spare change anyway.
Vomit green hair lets him go, taking his wallet gleefully with a mutter of ‘Hey, that was pretty easy!’, but the redhead doesn’t seem to be convinced at all.
“I appreciate the donation,” He mocks, getting up close and personal, subjecting Saiki to his rotten-smelling breath. He can’t even keep in the wince. “But y’don’t seem sorry to me.”
“Sorry.” That’s because he isn’t, but whatever.
Redhead glances back to his friend, busy counting the money, and they communicate something that’s lost on Saiki, but that leaves them grinning at each other. Green hair takes his money and shoves it in his pocket. Saiki distantly mourns the loss of all that potential coffee jelly.
“Y’know, I don’t think that’s enough for me.” Redhead says, trying to stare Saiki down. “I think a little more groveling is due, you’ve really left me quite sad.”
Now that he won’t do. He crosses his arms defiantly, but he glances at the open space to his side, getting ready to book it if he needs to.
They’re, unfortunately, more perceptive than he realized.
“Not so fast, bro.” In the blink of an eye, the redhead shoves his hand in the pocket of his sweats, and comes back holding something that presses cold and unyielding against his cheek. Saiki freezes, barely catching the tip of the blade from the corner of his eye.
“Now that’s more like it,” Green hair says with a twisted grin.
“Sure is,” Echoes his friend, glancing back and then at Saiki. He doesn’t know what kind of posturing game this is, but he’s regretting not running when he had the chance.
“Now, what I’m thinking,” says the redhead, “Is that you kneel down, forehead to the floor, say the proper, respectful apology that I deserve, and I might let you go without putting some nasty cuts on that pretty little face if you clean my shoes while you’re down there. “Sound like a deal?”
Saiki, through the fear, feels a horrifying pang of empathy for his father.
He keeps darting his gaze from the two grinning bastards to the knife, slowly but surely pressing down harder on his cheek from the flat side. His knees are locked, and his breathing is heavy. He doesn’t even know if he could kneel if he tried,
plans all coming in and being discarded immediately for their reliance on some kind of psychic power for assistance, whittling down until there’s only…none.
Or one, if he wants to stand the humiliation.
Distantly, he hears some hurried steps coming in from his left, on the side where the knife is, so he can’t even turn to check without risking a nasty cut to his face.
“Saiki?”
Kuboyasu .
He hears Kuboyasu stop, a few steps away as he takes in the situation. Thankfully, the other two turn away from Saiki to check out the new party in their midst, the redhead moves the knife away from Saiki’s cheek, though he doesn’t stray far.
“If you could just let my friend go, I’d really appreciate it.” His tone is otherworldly, a deep, commanding rumble filled with fake cheer that can’t even begin to disguise the threat in his voice. It fills Saiki with overwhelming relief.
“Woah, look at this lil’ guy here!” The redhead exclaims, looking back at his friend and then Saiki again. “This your buddy here? Pretty brave, huh.”
“Please,” Kuboyasu says, breaking out into a snarl. “Just beat it, if you know what’s good for you.”
The pair break out into disgusting, mocking bouts of laughter. Like there’s nothing funnier than Kuboyasu’s threats. The redhaired one fiddles with the knife in his hand like a plaything, loosely pointing it at Saiki.
Kuboyasu looks murderous.
“I think I’ll put a couple holes in your friend here first,” He keeps looking back at his giggling friend, a very bad choice on his part. “Is that fine by ya-”
Quicker than Saiki’s eyes can catch, Kuboyasu steps up to the man and grips his arm hard , making him drop the knife nearly immediately with a screech.
With the knife on the ground, Saiki can freely look away safely, knowing that without it in the equation Kuboyasu can, and will, take care of it with no issue. He would spare them a prayer, if they deserved it.
He hears a thud, crunch and scream, and where his gaze is fixed on the ground, Saiki sees the redhead crumble like a ragdoll, blood seeping from his nose and forehead, Kuboyasu’s glasses falling to the ground, possibly broken. He also sees Kuboyasu’s sneakers step over the man, not so casually treading over the incapacitated mans hand on the way. The one that held the knife, he notices absently.
The green-haired thug seems rooted to his spot, clearly not knowing what to do after his friend was taken down so fast. He finally reacts, perhaps noticing the menace stepping towards him, stumbling backward and falling right on his ass.
Maybe it’s the crazed grin Kuboyasu sports on his face, maybe it’s the specks of blood dotting his face from when he broke the redhead's nose, but when Kuboyasu kneels, he notices the man pale even further, making his pallid complexion seem even worse, somehow.
“W-wait, you’re-” Kuboyasu doesn’t let him finish, however, grabbing him by the collar and delivering a nasty blow that left the repugnant lump of meat out cold. It’s maybe a little too much, Saiki thinks, even as he’s filled with vindication and overwhelming relief.
Then, there’s silence
“For real, a knife?” Kuboyasu muses, getting up from his position, dusting his knees casually as if this was a regular Saturday occurrence. Once upon a time, perhaps.
Surprisingly he makes a beeline for Saiki, on further inspection, his shoulders seem tense.
“Are you okay?” He’s sporting a frown, expression entirely full of worry.
“Saiki?” Kuboyasu grips his arms, he hadn’t noticed how hard he’d been gripping his arms where they’re crossed over. “You’re freaking me out here, bud.”
Saiki takes a deep, shaky breath. He trusted Kuboyasu’s skills, his history as a delinquent, he’d definitely had more than a couple of runs against a knife before, probably. But being able and willing to subject himself to such a risk for Saiki. Saiki who dismissed him with nothing but a glare and words full of vitriol not even half an hour before.
“Yeah,” He answers, voice small
“Good, great.” Kuboyasu nods, maybe even trying to reassure himself, squeezing his arm one more time, almost as if making sure Saiki is truly in one piece.
“Now, I don’t know about you, but that left me pretty rattled.” He didn’t seem to be, but Saiki can’t really be the judge of his internal thoughts anymore, could he?
“Maybe for my own peace of mind, let me walk you home?” Ah, so that’s what it was. An out, so he doesn’t have to ask himself. Quite heavy-handed, in his opinion, but he’s not going to deny the small feeling of security the offer provides him.
He nods, throat feeling tight.
“I’m sorry.” Kuboyasu suddenly breaks the silence, along with Saiki and his thoughts.
“For the whole thing, not just what happened,” He vaguely gestures behind him, where the knocked-out bodies of those kids could still be, “-out there.” Kuboyasu runs his fingers through his own hair. “I knew better than to push you about it, it was a stupid idea.”
“It was.” Saiki’s still surprised by the sound of his own voice sometimes, but not as much as he is by the burst of laughter at his side.
“It seemed like a great idea at the time, to be fair!” Kuboyasu laughs, rubbing the back of his head. “Desperate times call for, well, really desperate measures.”
Saiki grimaces, irked at being insinuated to be the last possible resort, despite his complete lack of interest at being involved in such a bizarre plan. It earns him another laugh, and his annoyance settles firmly.
He has good intentions, Saiki knows, and despite blowing up at him back at the cafe, Kuboyasu was there to help when he needed it, no questions asked. He still can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t have had to, anyway.
“I’m sorry, too.” He feels an approaching need to bury his head in the ground at the stare Kuboyasu gives him. “For your glasses.”
“Oh, right.” Kuboyasu grabs the destroyed pair from the pocket of his jacket. He’d picked them up at some point, along with whatever the pair stole from Saiki’s wallet and possibly a little more.
They’re bent oddly right at the left hinge, the leg barely hanging on to the frame, and one of the lenses seems to have popped out in the scuffle. Irreparable, probably. “Don’t sweat it, I have a couple of backup pairs at my house.”
The urge to touch them and see if he can restore them becomes surprisingly unbearable for a second, despite knowing fairly well that nothing would realistically happen. His powers are gone forever, but the itch in his fingers doesn’t go away, even as he rubs the pad of his thumb against his knuckle.
“...Thank you.” Saiki says, and finds that while he does feel thankful, even to his ears, the apology sounds bitter. The impotence of the situation catches up to him again in a rush, leaving an acrid film that coats his mouth like poison.
He sees Kuboyasu’s hand jerk, almost dropping the ruined glasses on the pavement.
“I just- none of that was your fault.” Kuboyasu says firmly, gripping his shoulder tightly. “I mean, you’re surprisingly good at getting into trouble-”
The indignant gasp escapes his throat, completely out of his control. He wants to protest because he’s not-
“You are!” Kuboyasu laughs, mocking him. “One week someone pushes a bookcase on top of you, the other it’s a pair of girls from the Literature Club stalking you, the other- hey, wait up!”
Saiki’s not running away, he’s walking hurriedly in the direction of his house because he’s tired and wants to go to sleep. Never mind the burning of his ears, it’s a warm night and his physique isn’t what it used to be.
“You can’t run away from this conversation!”
“I’m not running!” Saiki can hear his own heavy breaths as he jogs briskly, recognizing that the next right is the street to his home and sweet, sweet salvation from this conversation he’s absolutely not having.
Clearly, Kuboyasu didn’t get the memo.
“If you wanna get away, this definitely isn’t fast enough.” Kuboyasu catches up to him quickly, without breaking a sweat. “How about last week when Nendou-”
Now he is running.
He doesn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt any true physical exertion while running. It’s completely different from the kind he felt when he overused his powers, the burning sensation in his thighs and calves indicating that his body was definitely going to make him answer for this little stunt tomorrow.
By the time they both arrive at the gate to Saiki’s house, nearly at the same time, he’s panting heavily and his heart is racing in his chest, Kuboyasu nearly crashing with him after estimating his stopping distance badly.
“Now that was fun.” Kuboyasu proclaims, with a hearty laugh. “We need to do that again.”
“Never.” Kuboyasu pats his back in sympathy, he doesn’t look even a bit out of breath. Saiki only hates him a little bit for it.
“A little more stamina and you’d be perfect for track.” Saiki’s glare doesn’t seem to deter him at all, as Kuboyasu simply leans against the wall beside him. “I’ll just follow along with you, tell you all the embarrassing things that happened that week. Better than any energy drink.”
Saiki might wring his neck if he keeps talking, as soon as his body stops feeling like jello.
They stand there in silence while Saiki catches his breath. He finds that as they stand in silence and his heart rhythm starts settling into something resembling normal he feels…
“Better?”
Saiki nods, not even understanding why he does.
“Good. I also meant what I said, you know?” After Saiki finally meets his eyes, there’s a fondness there he didn’t expect, more intense without the barrier of either of their glasses. He has to look away quickly, lest it overwhelms him. “The glasses, they’re nothing. What matters is that you’re alright.”
Saiki nods. True and noble down to his core, this one. He doesn’t know how he could ever doubt that.
“Good, the assholes deserved a good beating anyway.” Kuboyasu rubs his knuckles, seemingly lost in a train of thought of his own, a light frown overcoming his features. Reading minds wasn’t as good as it was cracked up to be most of the time, but he wishes for it anyway, just to know.
Kuboyasu’s sour expression goes away as swiftly as it came, as he checks the time on his watch, suddenly looking apologetic.
“Listen, I gotta run. My old man’s going to chew me out if I don’t get home soon.” Kuboyasu says, patting Saiki on the shoulder, the warmth of it seeping into his skin.
“But you can always ask for my help, yeah?” He grins brilliantly, as he turns away to walk home. “Anytime, any day.”
“Thank you,” Saiki says quietly, more to himself than anything, and he finds that he truly means it.