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kusuo had noticed immediately when you weren’t at school.
you always sat beside him, brightening the space with your quiet presence, but on monday morning, your desk was empty. it wasn’t unheard of for students to miss a day now and then, so he brushed it off as nothing at first. maybe you had a cold.
but when tuesday came, and then wednesday, and your seat remained empty, kusuo’s unease grew.
“hey, has anyone heard from [y/n]?” kaidou asked during lunch on the third day, his voice laced with concern. “she hasn’t been answering my messages.”
“yeah, it’s weird,” nendou said, scratching his head. “she said she was sick, but she’s been gone for days! that’s not normal, right?”
“maybe she’s just really sick,” teruhashi offered with a smile, though even her tone was unsure.
kusuo sat silently, pretending not to listen, but his mind was elsewhere. he’d been trying to ignore the growing tightness in his chest all week, but now it was too much.
she’s fine. she said she’s sick. it’s nothing.
but no matter how many times he told himself that, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
that evening, kusuo sat in his room, staring blankly at the pages of his manga. the words blurred together as his mind wandered back to you.
why do i care so much? she’s probably fine. she’s strong. she doesn’t need me.
but something tugged at him, like a nagging voice in the back of his mind. giving in to his instincts, he tuned into the faint hum of thoughts from the houses nearby. he focused on the familiar presence just a few doors away—yours.
and then he heard it.
why am i even here?
kusuo froze, his heart skipping a beat.
what’s the point? i’m so useless. no one would even notice if i were gone.
his eyes widened slightly, the steady hum of your thoughts flooding his mind. there was no trace of your usual warmth, no soft kindness that always colored your presence. instead, there was pain—so much pain that it was suffocating.
i hate myself. i hate myself so much. i wish i could just...disappear.
kusuo sat still for a moment, his breathing shallow. he wasn’t prepared for this—not the raw, unfiltered sadness in your thoughts, not the hopelessness that clung to every word.
before he realized it, he was already on his feet, slipping on his shoes and teleporting to the front door of your house.
standing outside your door, kusuo hesitated. he didn’t know what to say or how to approach this. he wasn’t good at comforting people. he wasn’t good at feelings at all.
but this was you. and he couldn’t just ignore it.
he knocked softly.
a minute passed with no response. kusuo frowned, using his abilities to check inside. you were there—sitting on the floor of your room, curled up with your back to the door.
“[y/n],” he said, his voice steady but gentle.
you startled, your head snapping toward the door. “k-kusuo?”
“open the door,” he said, his voice calm but firm.
“i can’t,” you whispered.
he sighed quietly before teleporting inside.
you gasped when you saw him, scrambling to wipe at your red, tear-streaked face. “kusuo, what are you doing here?”
“checking on you,” he said flatly, though his voice softened slightly as his gaze flickered to you.
you looked away quickly, pulling your sleeves down to hide your arms. “you shouldn’t be here. i’m fine.”
“you’re not fine,” he said quietly. “stop lying.”
you froze, your body tense.
“i heard you,” he added. “you’re not okay.”
your shoulders slumped, and fresh tears began to spill down your cheeks. “you shouldn’t listen to that,” you said in a broken voice. “i didn’t want anyone to hear that.”
kusuo said nothing, but his gaze trailed downward as you shifted slightly, your movements betraying you. that’s when he noticed it—the faint, fresh cuts across your thighs, just barely visible under the hem of your oversized shorts.
his heart clenched.
you noticed where he was looking and immediately pulled your knees up to hide them, curling into yourself like you wanted to disappear. “don’t look,” you whispered.
kusuo sat down beside you without a word. he didn’t look at the scars. instead, he looked at you—really looked at you. your face was tired, your eyes swollen from crying, and your whole body radiated the weight of something you had carried alone for too long.
“why didn’t you say anything?” he asked quietly.
“because…” you choked on the words, hugging your knees tightly. “i don’t want to bother anyone. everyone has their own problems. i’m just…i’m just being stupid.”
“you’re not stupid,” he said firmly, surprising you.
you looked up at him, blinking through your tears. “huh?”
“you’re not stupid,” he repeated, his voice calm but resolute. “and you’re not a burden.”
you stared at him, stunned into silence.
“you don’t have to hide this,” he continued, glancing away as if embarrassed by his own words. “not from me.”
“why?” you asked softly, your voice trembling. “why do you care?”
kusuo sighed, leaning back slightly. “because it’s you,” he said simply.
the words were quiet, but they hit you like a wave. you wiped at your tears again, trying to process what he’d said.
“you don’t have to carry this alone,” he added after a moment. “i know you think you do, but you don’t. i’m here.”
you stared at him, fresh tears welling up in your eyes. but this time, they weren’t tears of pain—they were tears of relief.
“thank you, kusuo,” you whispered, your voice shaky.
he didn’t respond, but he stayed beside you, his quiet presence grounding you like nothing else had.
the two of you sat there for a long time, saying nothing. kusuo didn’t try to fix everything or say the “right” words. he just stayed. he let you cry. he let you feel. and for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel so alone.
kusuo glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. you’re not as alone as you think, he thought silently, though he didn’t say it aloud.
and in that small, silent moment, you felt it—you felt seen, understood, and safe.
saiki kusuo, the boy who seemed so untouchable, had stayed. and that was enough.
the hours slipped by in a haze of quiet moments and shared silence. kusuo stayed by your side, his usual stoic demeanor softening ever so slightly as he watched over you. he didn’t push you to talk more, nor did he offer platitudes that might fall flat. instead, he stayed still, letting his presence fill the room with a calm reassurance.
“kusuo,” you murmured after what felt like an eternity, your voice hoarse from crying.
he glanced at you, adjusting his glasses slightly. “what?”
“thank you,” you said softly, your [color] eyes glimmering with gratitude. “for everything. i…don’t think i would’ve made it through tonight without you.”
his chest tightened at your words, though his expression remained unreadable. “good grief. don’t say that. it’s…not a big deal.”
you chuckled weakly, wiping the remnants of tears from your cheeks. “you always say that.”
the two of you sat in silence again, the weight of the evening slowly beginning to lift. the moonlight streaming through the window bathed the room in a soft glow, and for the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe.
kusuo stood after a while, glancing toward the door. “you should rest. it’s late.”
you nodded, though the thought of him leaving made your chest ache. “are you going to be okay getting home?”
“i’ll be fine,” he said flatly, though his tone lacked its usual sharp edge.
you hesitated, biting your lip. “i’m sorry for dragging you into this,” you said quietly.
he turned to face you fully, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “stop apologizing. i came because i wanted to.”
his words hung in the air, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest.
as kusuo moved toward the door, you stood and followed him, your steps slow and hesitant.
“kusuo,” you called softly, stopping him just before he reached the threshold.
he turned, raising an eyebrow. “what?”
you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your cheeks flushing slightly. “can i…hug you? just for a second?”
he stiffened slightly, his usual stoicism flickering as he considered your request. after a moment, he nodded. “fine.”
you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him gently. he froze for a moment, his hands hovering awkwardly before he slowly placed them on your back, holding you with a surprising tenderness.
the hug was brief but powerful, the quiet warmth of the moment washing over you like a soothing wave.
“thank you,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against his shoulder.
“good grief,” he muttered, though there was no irritation in his tone.
as kusuo walked home that night, his hands tucked into his pockets, his mind replayed the events of the evening.
she’s impossible, he thought, his gaze fixed on the quiet street ahead. but…i’m glad i was there.
his chest felt strangely light, a faint warmth lingering from the hug you had given him. it wasn’t something he was entirely used to, but he found himself…not minding it.
when he finally reached his room, kusuo sat on his bed, staring at the faint reflection of the moonlight on his desk. he adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable as he leaned back.
she’s stronger than she thinks, he thought silently. and as long as i’m here, she won’t have to carry it all alone.
and with that quiet resolve, kusuo allowed himself a rare moment of peace, the memory of your smile and the feel of your embrace grounding him in a way he didn’t quite fully understand.
the next morning, the sun streamed through your window, casting a golden glow over your room. for the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up without the heavy weight of despair pressing on your chest.
kusuo’s visit the night before had been a turning point. his quiet presence and unwavering support had reminded you that you weren’t alone, that someone cared enough to stay.
you stretched and got out of bed, determination flickering in your heart. today was a new day, and you were ready to face it.
as you walked to pk academy, the crisp morning air filled your lungs and carried with it the hum of bustling life. birds chirped from nearby trees, and the distant sound of laughter from passing students brought a faint smile to your face.
you felt lighter, more at ease, and even the thought of the chaotic day ahead didn’t faze you.
the moment you stepped into the classroom, the energy shifted. heads turned, and your classmates’ faces lit up as they saw you.
“[y/n]!” kaidou exclaimed, leaping out of his seat with dramatic flair. “you’re back! the dark reunion hasn’t taken you after all!”
you laughed softly, your [color] eyes twinkling. “good morning, kaidou. i missed you too.”
nendou bounded over, his grin as wide as ever. “yo, [y/n]! where’ve you been? we were all worried about you!”
“i wasn’t feeling great, but i’m better now,” you said, your voice warm. “thanks for checking in, nendou.”
“of course!” he said, clapping you on the back with enough force to make you stumble slightly.
teruhashi approached with her usual dazzling smile, though her tone carried a faint edge of competitiveness. “[y/n], it’s so good to see you again! everyone missed you so much.”
“thanks, teruhashi,” you replied sincerely, not missing the faint tension in her gaze.
kusuo sat at his desk, his expression as stoic as ever, but his gaze lingered on you as you greeted everyone.
she’s smiling again, he thought, a faint warmth spreading in his chest. good.
as you made your way to your desk, you turned to him with a bright smile. “good morning, kusuo.”
“morning,” he replied flatly, though his tone was softer than usual.
you sat down beside him, the familiar rhythm of the classroom filling the air. for a moment, you glanced at him, your heart swelling with gratitude.
“thank you,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
he adjusted his glasses, his gaze fixed forward. “don’t mention it.”
as the day went on, you found yourself surrounded by the warmth of your friends and classmates. kaidou’s wild theories, nendou’s loud laughter, hairo’s boundless enthusiasm—they all reminded you of the little joys you had missed.
but it was kusuo’s quiet presence that grounded you the most. even without words, you felt his support, a steady anchor in the chaos of life.
when the final bell rang, signaling the end of the day, you walked out of the school gates with your friends, the setting sun casting a warm glow over the streets.
as you walked beside kusuo, you glanced at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “you know, i think today was one of the best days i’ve had in a while.”
“good,” he said simply, though his thoughts told a different story. it’s because you’re trying again. that’s what matters.
and as you walked home, the weight of the past few days felt like a distant memory, replaced by a quiet, steady hope that carried you forward.