Chapter Text
Tsukishima's POV:
He'd been watching her for weeks now. Not in a creepy way, obviously, but there was something... off about her. The way she held her pen, the tiny tremor in her hand, the dark circles that screamed she hadn't slept. Most people would just ignore it, but he couldn't.
Today, for example, her notebook was missing the corner of a page—probably torn when she had been jotting notes.
He leaned over his desk casually. "Hey... you got an extra pen?"
She blinked, looking up, startled. "Uh... yeah. I think so."
He didn't say anything else, just held out his hand. When she handed it over, he noticed her fingers were cold and trembling slightly. Small things like that always caught his attention.
Later, during group work, he realized she didn't have an eraser. He muttered loud enough for her to hear, "Do you have an eraser I could borrow?"
She glanced around nervously, as if worried someone else would notice him talking to her. "Uh... yeah, here."
He took it without comment, sliding it back into his bag afterward, but he caught the faintest flicker of relief in her eyes.
Interesting, he thought. She's... careful. Quiet. Alone.
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Y/N's POV:
She didn't know why he kept asking her for little things. Pen, eraser, paper—they were small favors, but every time he did it, it made her chest beat faster.
He didn't smile or make a joke. Just... asked. Like it was normal. Like she wasn't about to explode from nerves at the sound of his voice.
"Uh... here," she said softly, sliding the pen across the desk. Her hands shook a little, but she forced them to look steady.
He didn't comment. He didn't laugh. He just took it. And then... he left her alone.
It was strange. Strange how quiet it made her feel. Strange how safe, in a weird way, even though he was still... him. Dry, sarcastic, blunt, and somehow observant enough to notice every little detail she tried to hide.
She looked down at her notebook again, pencil tapping nervously against the page. She hated that she kept noticing him noticing her. She hated that she cared.
But she did.
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Tsukishima's POV:
After class, he packed his bag slowly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. She wasn't talking to anyone. She hadn't eaten lunch with anyone. She just... existed quietly, like a book nobody picked up.
He made a mental note: maybe tomorrow he'd ask her something else. Maybe something casual.