Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started with Kuboyasu getting angry. 

Because of course it did. If it's not Nendo's bumbling idiocy, then it's Kaido's ridiculous fantasies, or Teruhashi's obsession, or Hairo's unerring vitality, or-

You pretty much get the picture. The point is, Kusuo's nuisances definitely live up to their title. His own life would be much more peaceful without them, and Kusuo should do away with them while he could.

Or at least, that was what he told himself. Somehow, even after all these 'years', it never quite seemed to happen. 

But this time, it was different. This time it hadn't been one of the silly, inane situations Kusuo was somehow always dragged kicking and screaming into. 

Kusuo had always known, in a distant, don’t think about it way, that Kuboyasu had a degree of paranoia that could rival his own. Kusuo could hear it, after all, and the reformed punk’s thoughts often mirrored his own. But — as much as Kusuo loathed to admit anything like this — Kuboyasu was usually better at handling it than he was. 

If he was a normal person, seeing Kuboyasu so untethered to reality would have been scary. But Kusuo was an all-seeing psychic, so it obviously hadn’t induced any anxiety in him. 

Apparently, all it took was an outing too late at night and some glass shattering, and Kuboyasu was no longer a diligent student hanging out with his friends, but a teenage delinquent fighting for his life. 

Actually, maybe anger wasn't the right word for Kuboyasu's reaction. There was something too cornered animal-esque for Kusuo to feel good about just brushing it off as something so simple.

Honestly, Kusuo was glad he’d been the one closest to Kuboyasu. If he absolutely had to pick, it would be himself he'd put on the receiving end of one of Kuboyasu's strikes. Kaido would instantly fold, and Kusuo wasn't sure that Nendo would understand the intricacies required for this kind of situation. 

Thankfully, Kusuo was more than fast enough to dodge the likely-devastating punch that Kuboyasu threw toward him. 

It was the snarled-out "Get the hell away from me!" that made Kusuo pause. 

Despite himself, he heeded the cry and stepped back. As he did, he was suddenly aware that people were starting to look. The realization made Kusuo's skin itch. But for once, avoiding attention wasn't at the forefront of his mind. 

"Aren?" Kaido asked nervously, shifting closer to Kusuo. He was probably seeking comfort because, oh, you know, his best friend seemed to be falling apart at the seams. 

"He's alright, Kaido," Kusuo reassured quietly. 

It would have been understandable if Kaido didn’t believe him. Kuboyasu had pressed his back against a building, eyes wild and distant. His breathing was ragged and quick, his chest rising and falling in a motion that had to be painful. 

“Kuboyasu,” Kusuo called out. The teen's eyes snapped to him. They were still wide and unfocused, but the fact that he was at least acknowledging external stimuli boded well. Kusuo ignored the pounding of his own heart as he said, "Everything is okay. Nobody wants to hurt you."

Kuboyasu twitched and blinked rapidly. He began to scan his surroundings, and a look of confusion slowly formed on his face as he seemed to register the people around him. 

"...Saiki?" He asked as he slowly pushed himself off of the wall. "Shun? Nendo? What the fuck-" 

Kuboyasu reached up to scrub at his eyes and startled at the presence of his glasses. "I'm not…" He marveled, bringing his hands back down to look at them. He flipped his palms down and wiggled his fingers, as though he was astonished that they belonged to him. Finally, he let out a groan and ran a rough hand through his hair. "Shit, man."

Yeah, that summed up how Kusuo was feeling quite well, too. 

Kaido and Nendo were hovering around him, and people were still looking. Kusuo's skin crawled, but he tried to push through it, instead watching as Aren adjusted his glasses and came closer to them. 

"Are you okay?" Kaido questioned, fiddling anxiously with his bandaids. Kuboyasu frowned and tossed a comforting arm over the shorter boy's shoulder.

"I'm…okay, homeslice," he reassured haltingly, like he wasn’t even sure his words were true. 

While the former punk pressed Kaido into his side, he looked up and mouthed thank you to Kusuo. His stomach squirmed unhappily at that. 

Ugh, there were some well-doers planning on asking after Kuboyasu. A heavier application of his patented don't notice me hypnosis and people were shuffling away with glazed-over eyes. Good grief, maybe now they could go home. Kusuo didn't need these people meddling. He was more than capable of handling something like this on his own.

His hands were shaking. Kusuo tucked them further into the sleeves of his cardigan with a scowl. 

"What happened, new kid?" Nendo asked, tilting his head curiously. "Did something scare ya?"

"'Course not," Kuboyasu snorted, ruffling Kaido's hair before letting him go. "Just…a lil' unsettled was all."

Right. Okay, Kuboyasu. Whatever helps you sleep tonight. 

Speaking of which, despite his front, the guy did look tired. To normies, it might not seem that way, but there was a curl of exhaustion sagging his shoulders and coiling in his eyes that wasn't there before his little trip down memory lane. 

Funnily enough, Kusuo was pretty sure Kaido and Nendo were picking up on it, too. Never let it be said that those two could ever, under any parameters, be considered normal, though. 

That meant Kusuo should probably help him get home. Not because he cared that much, but because it would be more work for him in the long run if Kuboyasu somehow managed to get jumped in this state. 

"C'mon, guys, I'm okay," Kuboyasu smiled slightly and rubbed his neck. "I just need to go home and get some shut-eye."

Kaido wasn't convinced, but Nendo gave a thumbs up. "You know yourself best, new kid. We'll make sure you get home safe!"

Kuboyasu's smile took on a more genuine edge. "Thanks, Nendo." 

He glanced down at his best friend, who was busy chewing at his lip and looking into the far off distance. Kuboyasu bumped his shoulder softly, which was enough to make Kaido move slightly. Kusuo pressed his lips together so he didn't snicker. "Let's drop you off first, actually. I know you got a strict curfew and all."

"But-" Kaido protested, looking up at Kuboyasu with a sharp worry. He looked back at Kusuo with those needy, sad puppy eyes. 

Kusuo gritted his teeth. Good grief, this kid was shameless, wasn't he? Ruthlessly using his round baby face to his advantage. Kusuo ought to say no on principle. 

"I'll make sure he gets home," he sighed. Kaido's face melted into warm relief, and Kusuo crossed his arms. 

Fine. The chuunibyou won this round. 

Kuboyasu didn't seem happy about not being able to walk Kusuo home, but he also seemed to know when to pick his battles. 

Smart boy. He should utilize that more often. Maybe Kusuo would come out with them more if he wasn't stuck being the only lick of common sense around.

Kusuo watched through lidded eyes as Nendo let out an obnoxious yawn and stretched his arms above his head. "Man, I'm exhausted. What about you, little buddy?"

Kusuo ignored him the same way he'd been doing the entire time. Still, Nendo beamed like he'd said something in response. 

After a while, Nendo glanced down the street and pointed. "Look, partner. My house is there!"

Yes, Nendo. Very good job. 

"Did you wanna go?" Kuboyasu asked. His brain seemed kind of mush right now. He was sifting through his thoughts like he was panning for gold, trying to find something that was actually tangible. 

Nendo shrugged. "Sure, new kid." He reached over to give Kuboyasu a pat on the back, and the former punk let out a chuckle. 

"Bye, little buddy," Nendo grinned. His giant hand reached up, and Kusuo was treated to a moment of gut-wrenching terror as he tried to figure out what the big guy was going to do. 

And of course, all it ended up being was a gentle head pat. Kusuo honestly thinks he would have preferred Nendo took a swing. 

Kusuo and Kuboyasu watched as Nendo bumbled off. Nendo gave a huge wave, and Kuboyasu gave a smaller one back. Kusuo crossed his arms tighter and scowled harder.

Kuboyasu turned back to him and sighed. "Fuck, I'm happy to go home," he groaned. "Hey, now that they're gone, you don't actually have to walk me. Pretty sure I can get home by myself."

Kusuo rolled his eyes. Nice try, punk. He'd already determined that this was easier than having to sneak back and save Kuboyasu from whatever trouble would inevitably befall him. 

"Okay, I should have known that wouldn't work," Kuboyasu huffed out a laugh, glancing up. 

Kusuo gave him an appraising look before gesturing ahead. Kuboyasu grinned and began leading him to his house. Thankfully, the former punk understood the merits of a companionable silence, so Kusuo was able to close his eyes for a moment and try to relax. 

…At least until Kuboyasu broke the silence. "Hey, about earlier," he said, uncharacteristically quiet. "I'm sorry. I could have hurt you."

Good grief. Kusuo had known an apology would come at some point, but that didn't mean he wanted to deal with it. He opened his eyes reluctantly and stared forward. "It's fine."

"Is it though?"

Ohhh boy. Kusuo shot a glance at Kuboyasu. From what he could catch before his x-ray vision kicked in, there was distress lining the other's brows. 

A pang of pity shot through Kusuo. It's not as though he didn't understand Kuboyasu's plight; the thought of not being in control of himself, of being unaware of his surroundings, gave Kusuo chills. But he was also pretty sure this emotional talk would make Kusuo break out in hives if it kept up. 

"It is," Kusuo responded. 

Kusuo blinked just in time to catch Kuboyasu pressing his lips together unhappily. "I think," he sighed. "I have some shit to work through."

Yeah. Kusuo could have told him that. Not that he would have, but still.

"But that doesn't make what I did okay, Saiki," Kuboyasu continued. "Even if I didn't mean to, or if it wasn't entirely my fault. So, I'm sorry."

Good grief, why was Kusuo stuck with the most persistent guy around? If he was feeling any less generous, he'd call the punk worse than Hairo. 

"It's fine, Kuboyasu," Kusuo responded, with perhaps a tad bit more force than he should have. 

He took a breath to try and calm himself. Kusuo was just feeling kind of keyed up, was all. But not because of Kuboyasu's flashback. Obviously, Kusuo was irritated that his night had been dragged out so long. He really couldn't care less about the guy he was walking home. 

"Are you sure?" Kuboyasu pushed. Kusuo stopped suddenly, and the reformed punk stopped a second later too.

When Kuboyasu looked back at him, his face was a mess of anxiousness. His Kaido impression was quite impressive, if Kusuo said so himself. Even the subtle asking for reassurance that they were still friends was spot on. 

Kusuo sighed loudly so Kuboyasu understood how done he was with this conversation. "Yes, I'm sure. It's fine. You didn't hurt me, Kuboyasu."

Kuboyasu, annoyingly, quirked up his lips at his display of frustration. "Sorry. I know it's probably annoying that I keep asking you."

Kusuo shrugged. He wasn't wrong. 

That got a soft laugh out of the teen. "Just wanted to make sure, I guess. Even if it didn't land, it was probably still scary to see me trying to hit you."

"Why would I care about that?" Kusuo asked, feeling his stomach drop even as he said the words. 

Fuck. That wasn't the correct response at all. 

Maybe it was because he was feeling so raw and exposed. Maybe that was why it just slipped out. Kusuo never would have screwed up like this if he was feeling better.

Kuboyasu's brows, once pinched and somber, furrowed sharply in confusion. "Why would you care about being hit?"

Well, when you said it like that, it sure sounded pretty bad, didn't it? Good griefing punk, being stupidly down-to-earth.

It was mostly because it wouldn't hurt Kusuo unless he was relaxed. And not only did the words 'Kusuo' and 'relaxed' not reside in the same universe, but he'd been tenser than usual when interacting with the punk, for obvious reasons. 

And also, well-

He wouldn't have minded, mostly because being hit didn't really seem like a novelty to him. In fact, it probably would have been one of the better reasons he'd been struck because Kuboyasu was freaking out and out of his mind. That was better than someone getting mad at him for not going along with their desires.

Somehow though, he doesn't think that little explanation will go over well with Kuboyasu. He was missing some crucial information — namely, that Kusuo was a psychic — that would have made the whole situation less pathetic. 

"I mean," Kusuo started, feeling prickly under Kuboyasu's intense, dissecting stare. Good grief, could he lay off a bit? This guy was just having trouble sorting through his thoughts, and now all of a sudden, they were laser-focused on Kusuo's little slip-up. "It would have been an accident, is all I meant."

"...Right. Okay, that makes sense, I guess," Kuboyasu finally acquiesced. 

He was still unsure. But his mind was quickly returning back to its scrambled state, so Kuboyasu couldn't turn the issue over in his head very well. Kusuo bit back yet another sigh. At least one thing was going Kusuo's way, then. 

Small victories. They kept Kusuo going.

Kuboyasu might not remember this conversation well tomorrow, or even if he did, there was little reason for him to continue down its path. It's not as though Kusuo was actually in any danger. Plus, he and Kusuo weren't even that close. The little kernel of suspicion would fall apart by tomorrow. Kusuo was sure of it. 

They both relapsed into silence, Kuboyasu too tired to engage in small talk and Kusuo being - well, himself. 

They finally got to Kuboyasu's house, and Kusuo was greeted with the semi-familiar sight of the heavily graffitied walls and roof. "Hey, thanks, homie," Kuboyasu said, turning to him with a small smile. “I mean it.”

Kusuo would have to make sure that Kuboyasu's sleep was dreamless. And no, before you ask, Kusuo firmly did not care that the reformed punk looked so tired. He just didn't want to put up with the guy being pissy because he didn't get his goddamn beauty rest.

He turned his face to the side with a frown, and it only deepened at the sound of Kuboyasu's laughter. "Okay, I get it. I’ll leave. Take care, though, 'aight?"

Pfft. Kusuo was the most powerful being in existence. He didn't have the need to 'take care.' 

When Kusuo looked back, Kuboyasu was looking at him with soft eyes. Some part of Kusuo still shook from the discomfort of being paid attention to, but…

This kind of attention wasn't terrible. Kusuo could put up with it easily enough.

Finally, finally, Kuboyasu decided to actually go inside. Good grief, now Kusuo could go home and do something he actually wanted to.

Kusuo stood and watched Kuboyasu as he picked his way up to his front door and only turned to leave himself once the former punk was safely inside. 

Chapter Text

The morning greeted Kusuo the same way it always did, with a wallowing fest of depressing thoughts. And also as-per-usual, it was enough to make him want to give into those desires and let himself fall asleep forever.

The birds outside his window chirped loudly. Kusuo forced away the noise of his neighbors’ thoughts, instead listening to the bird’s inane squabbling and trying to convince himself it was worth it to get up. 

The answer might have been its typical resounding ‘no’ had Kusuo not let that little comment slip last night. Even if he was pretty sure Kuboyasu’s suspicions would inevitably amount to nothing, Kusuo wasn’t sloppy when it came to cleaning up after himself. There was no harm in checking again and ensuring there were no lingering doubts. 

And also, his dad barging into his room kind of prevented Kusuo from falling asleep again, forever or not. 

“Kusuomon! I slept in a bad position and now my back hurts. Fix it!”

Kusuo squeezed his eyes shut, resisting the urge to do something childish like hiding under his covers. Frustration quickly welled up in him, but Kusuo sucked in a deep breath and pushed it down as he breathed out. 

His dad knew when to push. He knew that when Kusuo was distracted with things like getting ready for school, he was more likely to give into the man’s whining. Especially because his dad could complain for a very long time. 

Stupid, silly man-child. 

“Kusuomon, please?”

“How do you know I’m not busy?” Kusuo snapped back. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but today the pleading was just pushing all the right buttons. “I have to get ready for school.”

“Well, why did you wake up so late?” His dad replied incredulously. Funnily enough, his back didn’t seem to hurt that much anymore because he straightened up and shook his head. “Honestly, you can’t use being late as an excuse if it’s your own laziness causing it.”

This guy. “Don’t you have work?”

“Oh crap, I’m running late! Kusuo, can you-”

Good FUCKING grief. Kusuo allowed himself one singular immature action: suffocating himself in his pillow. It was a better fate than whatever the hell this was. 

At the very least, the rest of Kusuo’s time at home proved that his mom was a saint and the only reason Kusuo hadn’t cut the planet in half. He hummed happily to himself, something like a skip in his step as he walked, sticking a spoonful of his delectable coffee jelly into his mouth. 

Actually, what he thought just now wasn’t true. His mom and coffee jelly were the only reasons he hadn’t entirely decimated the human population. 

It was so goddamn good, Kusuo could cry. Soft and tasty, sweet but still with a kick of caffeine; he could wax poetry about its divinity. And he would, inside the comfort of his own head, where he couldn’t be interrupted. 

Of course, all good things must come to an end. 

“Partner!” “Saiki!”

Kusuo’s expression snapped from its blissful cheer to its usual apathetic blankness. Good grief, at least it was good while it lasted. He shoved the rest of his jelly into his mouth with a twinge of sorrow. He hadn’t gotten to enjoy it to its fullest…

A too-friendly arm was tossed over his shoulder right after he covertly apported the empty cup with a penny. Kusuo shoved it in his pocket and grimaced at the unwanted contact. 

Nendo’s face came into view as he leaned over his shoulder, up close and way too personal. A moment later saw Kaido rushing in front, and behind him, Kusuo could hear the man of the hour, Kuboyasu, laughing at their antics. 

Funny. Kusuo wasn’t laughing very much, and he frankly didn’t appreciate the punk’s amusement.

“Get off him, Nendo!” Kaido yelled. Kusuo felt his budding headache throb in response. “You know he doesn’t like it when you grab him like that!”

“How would you know?” Nendo shot back, frowning down at Kaido. “Partner’s never said anything to me about it!” 

“Well I-” Kaido sputtered, looking suddenly unsure. “He just never looks very happy about it, I guess?”

“That doesn’t mean much. Partner never looks very happy,” Nendo replied in that careless way of his. 

Good grief, Kusuo needed these guys to shut up. Because Kuboyasu hadn’t been thinking about last night before they opened their big mouths, but now he was entirely focused on some suspicions based entirely off a singular comment Kusuo had made.

Tch. Of course this wouldn’t work out the way he needed it to. 

“Well, why don’t you just ask him?” Kuboyasu offered, strolling up to stand next to Kaido. His posture was perfectly relaxed. It belied how attuned he was to every minute twitch of Kusuo’s expression. 

Lucky for Kusuo, he’d been practicing keeping his face blank since he was a wee lad. Even when facing down too-observant punks, he was confident that nothing would get out of the lock and key he kept his emotions under. So instead of responding, Kusuo shrugged the offending appendage off of him and pushed forward, moving past the others and speed-walking away. 

“See, Nendo? He doesn’t like it,” Kaido preened triumphantly. 

“Little buddy still didn’t say anything, though,” Nendo pointed out.

“No,” Kuboyasu said, mind bubbling with concern. “He didn’t, did he?”

…Maybe getting this guy off his back would be harder than he thought. 

School wasn’t going much better. 

Kusuo’s headache, now fully formed and here with a vengeance, throbbed as he read the instructions on the board once, then twice, then a third time on the off chance that his eyes — you know, the ones capable of beyond-human clarity — were playing tricks on him. Alas, no such luck. No matter how long Kusuo stared at the words written in chalk, they didn’t change or budge one bit. 

A project for art. A project for art that required a partner. 

This was one of Kusuo’s worst nightmares. It meant having to constantly survey every line he made with a good griefing pencil. It meant having to fight to keep his hand from creating the exact image of whatever he was trying to create. It meant-

“Saiki!” Teruhashi chirped, flashing him a shimmering smile. “How are you doing?”

Kusuo could feel the stares of numerous teenage boys digging into his skin. He tried not to wilt too visibly. If he answered, he would draw greater ire and jealousy from his peers surrounding him. But if he didn’t, Kusuo was pretty sure there would be a witch hunt sent out for him within the hour.

As always, Kusuo was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He was sick of it, but there was little to be done about it, he supposed. 

Kusuo nodded in response to her prodding, hoping she’d accept it and move on. 

She didn’t, which was to be expected. “I overheard from Kaido that you went out last night. Did you do anything fun?”

What was she, his mom?

Teruhashi looked sweet on the outside, but her mind was running in circles. ‘Why is he giving me these non-responses? Doesn’t he know how lucky he is? Maybe I have something on my face? No, that couldn’t be.’

Kusuo kept his mouth flattened. “It was fine.”

“Oh, that’s good, then!”

‘Why won’t he just say ‘oh wow’ already!?’

Careful. Too much punctuation and you’ll start to sound like Kuboyasu. Speaking of which, the guy was taking note of their conversation. Kusuo pressed his hand into his mouth as casually as he could to hide his scowl. What now, punk?

Teruhashi fiddled with a lock of her shimmering hair, suddenly looking shy. “Um, actually Saiki, there was something I wanted to ask.”

Good grief. Not this again. It was hard enough the first time. 

‘This is perfect! Working on something like this together will definitely make us grow closer. And then I’ll finally get my ‘oh wow’!’ 

Kusuo bit back a sigh. He really was just a prize to be won to this girl, wasn’t he?

Fine. Teruhashi could have this round. That was just how it went, sometimes. Kusuo would just have to keep on his toes and somehow avoid drawing literally anything.

…How was he going to do this? 

There was suddenly a pressing yearning in Kusuo for Aiura to come and start a cat fight over him. Even if having to choose between the two would be humiliating and nerve wracking, he’d rather put up with the gyaru’s direct advances than dance around Teruhashi’s subtle manipulation. At least with Aiura he wouldn’t have to hide his powers. 

But what choice did Kusuo have? It’s not like he could say no. 

Teruhashi batted her long lashes, her sea blue eyes sparkling. “You know how I struggle to find a partner with these things? Well-”

“Saiki! Wanna work together on this?” 

It would have been amusing how blank Terhashi’s mind went if Kusuo’s hadn’t done the exact same thing.

The meddling idiot known colloquially as Kuboyasu approached Kusuo’s desk, smiling broadly. Some part of Kusuo that wasn’t short-circuiting was impressed; the expression looked almost genuine. If he wasn’t a psychic, Kusuo could have even believed there was no ulterior motive behind the reformed punk’s interjection. 

“Oh, crap. Teruhashi, I’m so sorry!” Kuboyasu exclaimed. “Were you going to ask to work with Saiki on this?”

Before she could respond, the guy looked at her innocently and dealt down a finishing move. “I hadn’t realized you two were such close friends.”

Ding ding ding. 

Kusuo’s worst nightmare wasn’t just an art project. It wasn’t even one that required a partner. 

The parameters seemed simple. Pick an emotion and express it. Any art supplies were fine, as long as both parties contributed something. 

But they weren’t allowed to use a person to express feelings. No, they had to convey a feeling purely through the usage of symbolism. 

Realistically, it shouldn’t seem hard. Kusuo could think of many things colors represented, things that even a primary schooler could identify. Red was anger. Blue was sadness. Yellow was happiness. Completely simple and easy to work with. 

For some reason though, Kusuo couldn’t think of anything beyond splotches on a canvas. Nothing was coming to mind, no ways to express anything he felt. 

If Kusuo had to draw how he was feeling right now, he doesn’t think he could muster anything beyond a messy scribble drawn with soot. 

So not exactly something he felt like sharing with a partner, then. 

Was this kind of personal? Honestly, it could have been. However, It could have easily not been, too. But for some reason, Kuboyasu was over here meddling, bringing pressure onto Teruhashi to bail from her attempts to seduce Kusuo. All in just a single, seemingly innocent sentence. 

Kusuo narrowed his eyes. Very smart boy, then. He’d picked up on the intricacies goody-goody fighting fast, hadn’t he?

Around them, the thoughts of their classmates rapidly turned suspicious. They began regarding him in a new light, curious as to how such a quiet, bland kid had supposedly caught the attention of their beloved goddess. 

Terhashi had to have known it too, because after a quick debilitating moment, she responded evenly, “I wasn’t planning on it, actually.”

Oh, wow. This girl had quite the inner voice, didn’t she?

‘Ugh, stupid boy ! Who does he think he is, interrupting me? I was so close, too! And why wasn’t Saiki the one asking me, anyways? What is with these two?’

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Kuboyasu said, sweet as sugar. Kusuo couldn’t tell if it was a good look on him or not. “I would have hated to have taken a partner from you.”

“It’s alright,” she replied, smiling with false cheer. “I was going to go ask Chiyo, actually. Excuse me, you two.”

She glided away, mind still buzzing with irritation. As she did, Kusuo slowly felt the attention on him shift away, and he let out a small sigh of relief. Kuboyasu looked down at him with a small smile. 

“Hey, you never answered my question. Wanna work together?”

Kusuo looked away and out the window so he didn’t have to stare at Kuboyasu’s earnest face. “Don’t you have Kaido?”

Kuboyasu snorted and gestured with a nod toward his best friend. When Kusuo turned to look, he saw that Kaido was currently engaged in an argument with Nendo, who seemed  way too delighted at having riled up the kid so much. 

“They wanted to work together. Kaido said something about ‘wanting to express how Nendo made him feel’.”

Angry, apparently. 

“So?” Kuboyasu questioned yet again, looking at him expectantly. 

Kusuo turned back to the window to think.

Good grief. This guy was way too pushy. But Kuboyasu had succeeded in getting Teruhashi off of his back. That meant that Kusuo owed him now, didn’t it?

Kusuo shrugged. If he wasn’t so observant, he would have missed the way the Kuboyasu’s smile faltered slightly at the action. 

“Great. We can start working on it after school then!” The former punk decided eventually, correctly taking Kusuo’s non-response as an agreement. 

Well, at the very least, Kusuo was avoiding a significant amount of attention by pairing up with Kuboyasu. Any time spent not under the constant threat of being hunted for sport was pretty good in Kusuo’s opinion.  Not only that, but the former punk also wasn’t entirely obsessed with getting Kusuo to like him. That was two whole points in his favor then, which was more than most people got. 

‘Well, that pretty much settles it, then,’ Kuboyasu thought. ‘He really doesn’t ever say no. Not around us, anyways. Is it just who he is, or did something make him that way?’

Make that one point. Because this kind of attention only foretold more headaches in Kusuo’s future. 

‘Or was it some one ?’ 

Good grief, this might end up even more troublesome than pairing up with Teruhashi. 

Chapter Text

Kusuo was practically a god. Just ask his brother. Or maybe ask the people who quite literally pray to him, Toritsuka and his dad. There was nothing he couldn’t do, no limit to the scope of his abilities. He was an all-powerful psychic, capable of things people could only dream of. 

It was so fucking humiliating that this project was tripping him up so much. It was truly awful, and Kusuo personally thought it deserved to burn and die for its transgressions against him. 

He was very aware that he was doing something akin to pouting, and Kuboyasu was too, apparently because he was laughing internally at him. In response, Kusuo gritted his teeth and glowered harder at the desk they were currently sharing. 

“So,” Kuboyasu drawled, pushing his pencil back and forth across the tabletop. The sound made Kusuo want to do something a little silly, like snap the stupid thing in half. 

The pencil, not Kuboyasu. Though if the goddamn punk went through with the little plan fermenting in his head, Kusuo would certainly be tempted. 

As if he was a telepath, Kuboyasu snapped up his pencil and smiled broadly. “I want you to pick what we do.”

“Why.” Kusuo ‘questioned.’ He shifted his glare from the desk to Kuboyasu, and the other teen appropriately began to sweat nervously. Good. The sight soothed some of Kusuo’s ire at the gall of Kuboyasu. Kusuo may not explicitly say no, but he was far from agreeable.

Kusuo was an asshole. He was a jerk. Even his dad said so. He would not roll over and show his belly at Kuboyasu’s prodding, especially not over something that wasn’t any of his good griefing business.

Instead of getting irritated or being surprised, like Kusuo would have preferred, Kuboyasu’s mind welled with a patience he usually reserved for Kaido. The realization further strained his already sore pride. Kusuo didn’t need any babying. “I just get the feeling that I’ll be doing most of the actual drawing,” Kuboyasu answered dryly. “You should get to contribute something big like that. And so,” he spread his fingers wide, his sharp canines flashing unintentionally at Kusuo. “I want you to pick.”

Good grief, wasn’t this guy egotistical? Maybe he was used to pairing up with Kaido, but if anything, it was Kusuo who should be doing all the artwork. So yeah, Kuboyasu had no point of reference for Kusuo’s drawing abilities, and maybe he did seem a bit avoidant when it came to actually sketching, but-

Oh, who was he kidding? Kuboyasu probably would be doing all of the actual artistry. And, speaking truthfully for once, Kusuo was grateful he hadn’t even had to trick the guy into it. 

He was just unsure of what emotion to pick, was all. 

After a moment of deliberation, Kusuo lamely settled on “Happiness.”

Easy enough, right?

“Yeah, alright,” Kuboyasu replied. “What does that look like to you?”

…Wait, that was a bad choice. Could Kusuo back out of this without looking extremely depressed? Because he wasn’t, but he wouldn’t put it past Kuboyasu to start jumping to conclusions like that. 

Kusuo realized he had stayed quiet for too long when Kuboyasu tried to redirect him. “What about something that makes you happy?”

“Coffee jelly,” Kusuo answered immediately. 

Kuboyasu broke out into a smile. “There’s one thing. Anything else?”

Good grief, what did he mean, ‘anything else’? What else would there even be?

The thing is, Kusuo knew why Kuboyasu was making him pick. It wasn’t because of whatever bullshit excuse he came up with earlier. It was for much of the same reason as Teruhashi, actually.

Kuboyasu wanted to see what made Kusuo tick. Not to woo him, but to do- what, save him from some imagined issue? Give him a break. If there was any danger or threat to himself, Kusuo could easily save himself. And he had before, as well as rescued the planet numerous times. 

He didn’t need this meddling. He didn’t want it, either. Kusuo already had someone who watched over his every move. He didn’t need another. 

Kusuo turned away stubbornly, staying silent. Kuboyasu didn’t externalize any of his frustration at the action, mainly because he didn’t have any.

Kusuo’s stomach cramped. He’d expected some anger from the former punk, or at the very least, the usual vocal irritation at his bratty behavior. He didn’t want this, the prominent concern ringing through Kuboyasu’s mind. 

What made him happy? Please. Kusuo could have anything he wanted! At any time at all, he could have more wealth than the entire Saiko conglomerate or more devoted worshipers than Teruhashi could ever dream of! The whole world could be Kusuo’s with just a snap of his fingers, or even just a thought. 

It wasn’t that he was unhappy. He was just spoiled. Kusuo could have everything. 

He did have everything. He had everything other people sought. Reliable…friends…a nice house, a loving family-

So why?

Kusuo was far more blessed than everyone on the planet combined. Even if his powers caused issues, people still saw them as a good thing.

Why am I not-

“Oi, Saiki,” Kuboyasu said, placing a hand on the tabletop, in front of Kusuo’s line of vision. He blinked. When had he started looking back at the desk? Kuboyasu ducked down, trying to catch his eye. “You okay, homie?”

Why…wouldn’t he be?

The bell chimed. Students began to filter out, chatting eagerly about their plans for the weekend. Kusuo finally dragged up his gaze to look at the teen in front of him and nodded an affirmative. 

Kuboyasu’s mind pinged with sorrow and worry. Shame prickled hotly across Kusuo’s neck in response. Even with his efforts, he was still being a bother. He was being an inconvenience.  

It didn’t matter that Kuboyasu was the one that decided to get involved. That’s just who this boy was; fiercely protective and loyal toward those he considered friends.

It was Kusuo’s fault for worrying him in the first place. And he’d done an awful job trying to assuage those concerns ever since. 

Kusuo was a coward at heart. That trait was in full force right now as his skin crawled with the burning need to flee and hide.

“I have to go. Excuse me,” Kusuo finally forced out. He swung his bag across his shoulders and left as quickly as he could, trying to ignore the other’s stare digging into his back. 

One of Kusuo’s favorite pastimes was wallowing. 

No, seriously, it was. When his pride was wounded, Kusuo slunk away into the ‘safe’ haven of his room and pretended to sleep. 

(His room wasn’t really safe. Kusuke’s cameras always remained in the back of his mind, and his dreams were haunted by ideas of the past, present, and future. But out of the whole house, this was where Kusuo was most comfortable. So it was where he stayed.)

He would curl up under his comforter and close his eyes, playing previous days’ events over and over in his mind. And even though it made him sick to his stomach sometimes, there was also something soothing about it, too. 

Maybe soothing was the wrong word. It fed the boiling self-hatred that pressed on his chest, and maybe that wasn’t good, but it provided its own sick sense of satisfaction.

Since yesterday, Kuboyasu had been circling through Kusuo’s thoughts almost non-stop. Not in a lovesick way he was pretty sure Teruhashi thought of him, but in an anxious and helpless way that his thoughts kept being drawn back to. 

Good grief, that was a silly thought. Kusuo might be anxious ninety-nine percent of the time, but he had never been helpless a day in his life, not even when he was an infant. 

Huh, Kusuo was actually tired. It made sense; he’d been lying in bed since he woke up this morning. His mom would probably make him eat lunch because he’d missed breakfast, unwilling to sit there and watch his dad run around like a headless chicken. He could sleep until then. 

Kusuo let himself drift off, hovering in that peaceful state between awareness and slumber. For a while, he let himself flow in and out of the muzzy consciousness, some part of himself purring happily at the warmth of his blankets and the relative safety of his isolation. 

It’s only fitting that that contentment was trampled by people intruding on that isolation. 

‘I hope Saiki comes out,’ Kaido thought hopefully right before he rang the doorbell. The sound echoed throughout the house, sending the remaining tiredness clinging to his brain running for the hills. 

‘I’d like to make sure he’s doing alright,’ Kuboyasu thought, as if adding to Kaido’s. Kusuo sat up and stuck his thumbnail into his mouth. 

What was with this frequency bias? Kuboyasu was already taking up enough space in his brain. He was usually off doing his own thing, wasn’t he? Why was he suddenly being a goddamn pain in Kusuo’s neck?

At least Kaido was there, too. And chances are, Nendo as well. That meant that there would be other things to occupy the former punk’s attention. 

Again with the small blessings. It was the only reason Kusuo hadn’t fled to the bottom of the ocean. 

He honestly thought about rolling over and trying to sleep, but his mom answering the door instantly threw that idea out the window. 

Kusuo knew what that meant. No more wallowing for him anymore. 

After another moment’s hesitation, Kusuo finally found the motivation to push himself out of bed and out of his room, creeping down the stairs to catch sight of his nuisances in the doorway. As expected, the three musketeers were there, ready to trample upon his plans, like always.

What a pain, seriously? Kusuo just saw them yesterday, and if they wanted to wait two more days, they’d see him again, too. School was funny like that.

“Oh, Ku baby!” His mom chirped, stepping away from the door and clapping her hands together excitedly. “Your friends wanted to go out to the shopping district. Isn’t that fun?”

Was it? Kusuo could name a lot of things that seemed appealing at the moment, and most of those involved him curled up in bed. Outside, Kaido and Nendo squabbled like cats and dogs. Kusuo already knew that if he had to listen to that all day, he’d be nursing a migraine by tonight. 

“Mom,” he sighed under all the racket. Kusuo knew how futile it was, trying to reason with his mom about this, but he needed to at least try. Kusuo just wasn’t sure if he could handle this today.

Of course, he thought that every day, but still. He didn’t usually have a watchdog analyzing his every move (physically with him, at least). 

“I don’t want-”

“Ku baby,” his mom cut him off before he could continue, her aura blackening. Her eyes were gleaming with a warning, one that Kusuo really wasn’t looking to ignore. “Your friends want to go out with you. Go get dressed.”

‘!?’

Oh, good grief. Some part of his brain that wasn’t currently shivering in fear of motherly wrath recognized that stupid punctuation. Why wasn’t that stupid punk listening to Kaido and Nendo’s likely fifty-seventh argument of the day?

Kusuo, thoroughly cowed, dipped his head slightly in submission. Forget him; his mom was the one at the top of the food chain. “I’ll go get dressed,” Kusuo responded placatingly. 

His mom’s demeanor brightened, and Kusuo sighed at the alleviation of that all-consuming pressure. As he left, he heard her return to the boys outside and sing happily, “Little Ku will be just a minute, boys. Do you want to come in while you wait?”

“Okay!” Nendo cheered. He clapped his hands together, loud enough to make Kaido and Kusuo twitch. “Me and my pals are gonna go shopping!”

“Yes Nendo, we already know,” Kaido groaned. His annoyed act wasn’t fooling anyone, though, because there was an excited flush on his cheeks and he was fighting to keep his smile off his face. In case you were wondering, he was losing that battle. “Honestly, Nendo and I were planning on just messing around, but I think Aren had some errands he actually needed to run.”

“Yup,” Kuboyasu said, popping the ‘p’ exaggeratedly. “Figured it’d be more fun this way, though.” He turned to Kusuo and eyed him. Kusuo could hear Kuboyasu still mulling over what he had. “Honestly, Saiki, we weren’t sure if you’d come.” 

“Of course he’d hang out with us!” Nendo chimed in. “Little buddy’s mom always makes him come.”

Shut up, Nendo. Shut up, shut up, shut up. 

“Hm. I didn’t know that,” Kuboyasu responded. His voice was nonchalant, but Kusuo watched as he raised his brow. 

“Yeah, she-”

“Nendo, are we going out for ramen afterwards?” Kusuo interrupted. Thankfully, his voice didn’t sound strained with any of the irritation crawling down his back. 

It was an uncharacteristic question, sure, but it was better than Kuboyasu getting any more information out of Nendo and his loose tongue. As Kaido and Kuboyasu shot him confused looks, Nendo gave a beaming smile so wide it hurt Kusuo’s cheeks to even look at. “Of course, partner!”

With Nendo successfully distracted and beginning to talk about nearby restaurants, he was unable to share any more things that would raise any of Kuboyasu’s alarm bells. Kusuo let his eyes slip closed, and tried to ignore the fact that Kuboyasu was already too curious for his liking. 

Kusuo was so good at ignoring things. Even when next to the guy, Kusuo would just avoid it so hard that it would soon disappear from the guy’s radar. He had to give up eventually, right?

Right. 

Kusuo looked back at Kuboyasu and stiffened when he realized the reformed punk was staring right at him. They made eye contact, and Kusuo began cursing his life as the other’s eyes narrowed in determination. 

“Well, lunch should probably be soon. It’s almost twelve, after all,” Kuboyasu pointed out lightly. “I wanted to take Saiki to get some art supplies for that project, actually.”

“Oh wow, you’re really taking this seriously, aren’t you?” Kaido asked, tilting his head curiously. 

Kuboyasu chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I’ll be honest, I’d also like to use anything we buy afterwards, too.”

Huh. Just because it was true didn’t mean Kuboyasu wasn’t also using this to his advantage. 

Kusuo should have just erased the guy’s memory when he’d accidentally implied that he was used to being hit. But the thought had made him so guilty because Kuboyasu had just had his mind turned on him, that Kusuo couldn’t bring himself to alter his memory. It should have been easy enough to convince the teen to drop it. 

Why did he have to be so persistent? They weren’t even that close. Kuboyasu held no obligations toward Kusuo. Not to mention, Kusuo was, even in his own opinion, one stubborn bitch. He wouldn’t make this kind of thing easy for Kuboyasu. Kusuo would fight him literally every step of the way.

Kusuo swallowed nervously. Kuboyasu had already begun to lead their group to the store, and Kusuo already knew what would end up happening when they got there. They would all end up splitting up, leaving Kusuo alone with the former punk and at the mercy of any probing questions. 

What a pain. Kusuo was sick of constantly being looked at under a microscope. 

But he stayed silent. What would change if he complained? Absolutely nothing. Kusuo knew that when the people in his life settled on something, nothing he said would make any difference. 

It was different with his mom. Kusuo was okay trying to negotiate with her, but he drew the line at sounding so pathetic with anyone else. 

Just as Kusuo expected, when they got there, Kuboyasu was instantly planning on dragging Kusuo away. “Hey, he said, turning to face Kaido. “I’m gonna take Kusuo to go look at the paint in the back of the store. Where will you be?”

“Color pencils. I think Nendo prefers them,” Kaido responded absentmindedly. He kept getting distracted looking at all the different colored papers they had on display. If Kusuo had to guess, both of them would be stuck browsing through for a while.

Greaaat. More time for Kusuo to be pushed and prodded at. Hooray. 

It’s almost funny. Kusuo was almost sick with anxiety as Kuboyasu dragged him off to the back of the store. Every breath the guy took had Kusuo’s heart pounding in anticipation of his questioning. 

And yet, it somehow seemed so anticlimactic when Kuboyasu, amidst examining different options of paint, finally asked, “Saiki, why did your mom threaten you back at your house?”

Seriously, what a pain.

Chapter Text

Kusuo's first instinct in any situation where he's forced to confront something that makes him uncomfortable is to play dumb. So, of course, the first words out of his mouth were, "What do you mean?"

He didn't tack on his confused face because he knew Kuboyasu would instantly call bullshit. Kusuo wished that social pressures and expectations held more sway over the reformed punk's actions. Maybe then, he'd finally be able to shake Kuboyasu off his tail.

But the universe would not be so kind. Kusuo couldn't play-act his way out of this one. In order to pull this off, Kusuo needed to convince the teen that everything was a-okay. And that meant sticking to the status quo and keeping his face devoid of emotion.

Kusuo feigned fascination with two different brands of paint as Kuboyasu turned to look at him. Kusuo felt the other's gaze roving across his form and tried not to squirm under the scrutiny.

Why wouldn't Kuboyasu just give it a rest already? Having to seemingly explain something so delicate would seem like too much effort for most people, much less someone they didn't even know that well.

Kusuo knows why Kuboyasu won't quit, though; he's a good griefing tryhard, that's why. Screw stupid, oddly morally upstanding former delinquents and their drive. Just screw it all. 

"Back when you tried to say something. She started to get angry," Kuboyasu said, voice gentle as he stepped closer to Kusuo. The sound of it made his stomach twist sharply in revulsion.

"How do you know?" Kusuo snapped, taking a step away. He could feel himself beginning to slide down the steep incline of his burgeoning emotions. That was dangerous. 

"I heard, Saiki. I saw. You looked afraid, holmes," Kuboyasu replied, still soft and coaxing. Kusuo felt himself freeze a bit at that.

It seemed so easy to admit at home, where the consensus was, yes, you should be afraid of what she would do to you if you continued to disobey. 

Here, though, standing next to Kuboyasu in an art store of all things, it felt almost wrong. The idea that Kusuo should be afraid of his mom didn't seem right. That wasn't what a mom was supposed to do, right?

He didn't like that Kaido feared his mom's wrath in response to his attempts at independence. Was this really so different?

Good grief.

Kusuo pushed the thought out of his head. Of course his mom needed a firm hand with her family. His dad was essentially a whiny toddler, his brother was flat-out insane, and he-

Kusuo was the worst of them all. His mom needed to drag respect out of him because he would never listen otherwise. She held the heavy burden of needing to ensure her son didn't become a monster. 

Kusuo startled as a hand came to rest on top of one of the tubes he was clutching. Kuboyasu gently wiggled it out of his hand, and Kusuo, for some reason, let it happen. "Hey," he said quietly. 

When Kusuo looked at him, Kuboyasu's eyes were so tender and melancholic that Kusuo immediately regretted making eye contact. He looked down as Kuboyasu spoke again. "You know, if you ever need help, of any kind, you can always come to me, right?"

Heh. 

That was...so sweet.

...Kuboyasu was such an idiot.

Kusuo shook off the hand touching him and forcefully set down the other bottle of paint he'd been gripping. He watched detachedly as those around it bounced on the shelf, then turned on his heel and stalked off, away from the (disgusting, gut-wrenching) pity Kuboyasu was offering. 

Kusuo was practically a god. If he couldn't help himself, then nobody could. 

'Nor should they,' he thought with a sneer. The pressure of his existence felt like it had doubled, and Kusuo tried not to suffocate under it. 

"There you are, Aren!" Kaido chirped, swinging around to stare at the teen in delight. "Did you get everything you wanted?"

Kuboyasu hefted up his bag of supplies and smiled. "Right here. Sheesh, man, I oughta pick up a job again with the price of these things."

Kaido hummed absentmindedly with all the privilege of someone who received thirty-thousand yen as an allowance. Kusuo looked off to the side and wondered if he could somehow make a break for it. 

"Oh, new kid, I thought you were going shopping with partner?" Nendo asked as he began to lead them down to the ramen shop. Kusuo absentmindedly hoped that what they served was actually edible instead of what they'd been given that one time with Teruhashi.

"Aha, well," Kuboyasu laughed slightly, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I figured I'd take a while, so I sent him on ahead with you two, so he didn't get too bored."

Yeah, he sure sent Kusuo on ahead, alright. And now, Kusuo really didn't want anything to do with him for the rest of the day. Or really ever. 

He knew that Kuboyasu was looking at him, as well as thinking some sad, kicked-puppy things in his general vicinity. Kusuo scowled deeply, irritated beyond measure at the thoughts. Kuboyasu couldn't guilt-trip him, no matter how hard he tried. Of course, he didn't know that Kusuo had telepathy, but still. Kuboyasu's little ideas on how to 'make it up' to him didn't ply any sort of softness nor forgiveness from Kusuo, not one bit.

Seriously, what a pain. Telepathy really was a curse. Kusuo just wanted to be angry, dammit!

Kusuo very firmly did not look at Kuboyasu. He was the master at cold shoulders. Kusuo had never broken before, and he flat-out refused to start now. If he gave this punk an inch, he'd take off with a mile, and Kusuo along with it too. 

He kept up his aloofness the entire walk to the restaurant. When they finally reached it, however, Kusuo couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. 

There were fewer people in the building, giving his eyes a much-needed break from the barrage of visual input. Not only that but when Kusuo flitted his eyes up to the ceiling, there were a minimal number of cameras. Blind spots would be easier to find. That was always a pleasant bonus. 

Kusuo blew past his group of clowns to a table pressed against the wall. To Kusuo's amusement, they all fell into step behind him without even thinking about it. 

Same old, same old. Kusuo lived for routines, and going to ramen shops with his nuisances had definitely become part of that. 

Even if it had been against his will. 

Kusuo closed his eyes and let the sounds around him wash over him. Everyone's thoughts, their words, and the noise of people eating and drinking eventually turned into white noise. 

This was one of the rare moments where Kusuo could admit that being out of his room was nice, mainly for the fact that he wouldn't be nagged for being lazy or not doing favors for his dad. There was something freeing about not having to be useful for once.

"Oi, Saiki," Kuboyasu piped up next to him, barreling through the flimsy calm Kusuo had managed to garner. He refused to open his eyes and instead furrowed his brows to let the guy know how unhappy he was at the interruption. "They have a dessert menu, do you want something?"

Kusuo's eyes snapped open. 

Kuboyasu laughed. The sound was deep and rumbling, and somehow it pricked the attention of something inside Kusuo. He tilted his head in consideration as some of his irritation fizzled away. 

"Yes," he responded quickly. Kuboyasu's expression melted into that one from earlier, affectionate and adoring and generally all the things that made Kusuo feel sick to his stomach. 

He was lying to these people. All of them. If they even knew what Kusuo was, if they knew how terrible of a thing he was, if, if, if-

"Hey, I can still buy partner ramen can't I?" Nendo asked. 

"Why do you even pay for his food? You don't pay for mine," Kaido pointed out, glaring up at the big lug. 

Nendo crossed his arms and smiled cockily. "Well, chibi. Have you ever tried to befriend a stray cat?"

What.

"You have to befriend them first to get them to like you," Nendo continued, tapping his temple. "And you do that by feeding them. Little buddy is the same way!"

It was silent as they all tried to process his words. Kusuo especially, as he also had to try and work out the fucking  audacity.  Suddenly though-

"Pfft," Kuboyasu snorted, biting his lip and ducking his head. It didn't help much because his laughter was soon loudly escaping him as his shoulders jiggled. Kusuo felt his face burn humiliatingly, and he felt the blush spread to his ears as Kaido's snickers joined in with the noise. Kusuo huffed and tried to leave, but before he could move, Kuboyasu tossed a friendly arm out over his shoulder, much like he usually did with Kaido. 

"Aw, stay with us, Saiki," Kuboyasu pouted. Kusuo expected the expression to look terrible on him, but he'd apparently been taking cues from Kaido because it didn't seem very awkward. "Hey, I'm sorry, homie."

He wasn't apologizing for laughing. He was apologizing for seemingly stepping over his boundaries earlier. 

Ugh, damn Kusuo and his weakness to genuineness. He experienced it so little that he crumpled like paper when faced with the real deal. 

It was aided by the fact that Kusuo wasn't entirely sure why he'd gotten so angry. Kuboyasu was just worried and asking after him, and Kusuo had just lashed out at him.

Why, though? There wasn't anything actually wrong at home.

The idea of speaking was exhausting, so instead of verbally accepting the apology, Kusuo nodded in response and hoped Kuboyasu would understand. 

Judging by the smile that bloomed broadly across his face, the guy did. 

After a moment of flipping through the menu, Kuboyasu spoke again and asked, "You want coffee jelly?"

Kusuo may or may not have begun vibrating from excitement. Only those at that table would ever know the truth. 

"Thanks for coming out with us, Saiki," Kaido said, grinning sweetly up at Kusuo. 

Kusuo nodded in response. Even if he was drained, he couldn't bring himself to flat-out ignore the kid. What could he say? He was feeling a bit mushy-gushy right now, and not quite up to hurting the feelings of tiny chuunibyous. Kusuo wasn't a monster all the time. 

Of course, he knew of someone who would beg to differ. The man in question was fumbling with his keys outside their front door, and he looked up just in time to catch sight of Kusuo walking with his self-appointed friends. 

"Kusuomon! Wow, you're out for once?" His dad called, straightening up and waving. "With your friends, too. Hello, everyone!"

"H-hello Mr. Saiki," Kaido greeted, his typical anxiety in front of adults showing itself in full force.

"I don't think we've met before," Kuboyasu said contemplatively. "I'm Aren Kuboyasu."

"Oh, nice to meet you, son," Kusuo's dad smiled. Kusuo, sensing that they could be here for a long time if he didn't speed things along, used his own key to unlock the door. "I'm Kuniharu, Kusuo's dad!"

"Hey buddy's dad!" Nendo boomed, showing none of Kaido's hesitance. "We took partner out for ramen and shopping!"

"Oh, that's great, Nendo," the man replied happily. "You know, I'm glad you all continue to stick around. We always worry that Kusuo's friends will get tired of him."

Good grief. Kusuo breathed out a sigh and opened the door before tapping his dad on the shoulder. "Hm? Oh, thanks Kusuomon. Hey, where are you going?" 

Kusuo froze, not even a whole step into the doorway. He couldn't be serious?

"Don't be rude. Invite your friends in!"

But he was so tired…

Kusuo looked back at the trio. Nendo was looking off to the side, probably thinking thoughts so minuscule that Kusuo couldn't pick up on them. Kaido and Kuboyasu, though, were staring at him, one with curiosity and the other with a carefully even face.

Dare he simply ignore his father's words and escape while he could? After all, it wasn't his mom asking. 

"Oh, honey! You're home!" 

Why did God hate Kusuo so, so much?

"Oh hello you three," his mom said sweetly. "Are you back from your day out? Would you like to come in for tea?"

Kuboyasu smiled politely. "Oh, I'm not sure-"

"Sure! Thank you little buddy's mom!"

"Nendo, don't be rude!" Kaido squawked, putting his hands on his hips. Kusuo pressed his lips together and tried not to scowl too visibly. As always, though, he didn't do a good enough job hiding it because his dad commented on it a moment later. 

"Don't be like that, son," he said disapprovingly. "It's a wonder they stick around with that bad attitude of yours."

Yeah, Kusuo would honestly agree. He hated these people and even treated them terribly. Why did they insist on ruining his time alone? 

Behind him, there was a sudden hot flush of rage that made Kusuo's skin crawl in paranoia. Already knowing exactly who the culprit was, he looked back at Kuboyasu. 

The reformed punk looked oddly blank-faced. To most, maybe, nothing would seem amiss. Kusuo, however, could make out the tension in his jaw and shoulders that exposed his burgeoning anger. 

'Careful,' Kusuo heard Kuboyasu coach himself. 'I need to stay as calm as possible, so I can watch the way these two normally interact with Saiki.'

What a pain. Kusuo slipped past his mom into the house, feeling his exhaustion seep down to his bones as she welcomed the boys in. 

Why the hell is this guy so comfortable talking like that about his kid?' Kuboyasu's inner voice hissed. 'In front of us, too. Does he think we'll agree?'

Honestly, Kusu couldn't help but feel sometimes that maybe they should. 

Chapter Text

Yes, yes, silly shenanigans were all good and well and fun. Kusuo, despite beliefs otherwise, was quite capable of appreciating such things. It was when they occurred during his allotted alone time did Kusuo have a problem, especially at his house. 

It wasn't his fault that, if he had his way, all of his time would be alone time. Do you really think he wanted to be this way? It wasn't just those around him having to put up with grumpy Kusuo. He himself had to deal with it, too.

Kusuo was dancing around the issue, though. There were not one, not two, but three good griefing elephants in the room, and one of them had been causing Kusuo a significant amount of stress in just two days. Worse, they were being catered to by his mom. That meant Kusuo had to be polite, too. 

What a pain. Being nice was so difficult, especially when being rude was the other option. 

It helped that his mom was hovering over his shoulder. It kept Kusuo from picking up his stupid, clingy classmates by their scruffs and hauling their asses outside. It was less of a proverbial angel on his shoulder and more of a guillotine blade hanging warningly above his head, ready to slice down the second Kusuo tried to kick everyone out. 

"You're still such a funny guy, Nendo!" His dad laughed. Kusuo decided to include him in the list of people he'd like to leave right now, mainly because he was somehow being more annoying than usual. "I really wish my son was more like you. He's always got that blank look on his face, so unimpressed with everything we do!"

Good grief, his dad could leave first for all Kusuo cared. Kusuo wiggled further back onto his chair so he could tuck his knees up to his chest. Everyone was seated in the living room, sans his mom and Kusuo himself. 

His mom wasn't there because she wanted to make everyone drinks. Kusuo was just seated far away from everyone else because they were pissing him off. 

"Aw, I don't think he's unimpressed. I think he's just not very flashy about his feelings," Kuboyasu offered. For some reason, he'd taken it upon himself to defend Kusuo whenever he felt that his dad was being 'too judgemental'. 

Pfft. Okay, sure. Kuboyasu could honestly lay off a bit. The way he was talking Kusuo up made him seem like an entirely different, actually decent person. He didn't have to; it was Kusuo's dad Kuboyasu was talking to, after all. He knew what kind of person Kusuo really was. Maybe his leeches could actually learn a thing or two about him.

"Still, though, would it kill him to smile?"

Yes, next question.

"Little buddy smiles plenty! Like just earlier, he couldn't stop when new kid bought him his favorite dessert."

What a pain. Seriously, Nendo, stop divulging secrets so carelessly. That was supposed to be private information between Kusuo and his three idiots only. 

“Aw, man, seriously Kusuo? Hey, I'm sorry if he was mooching off of you," his dad groaned. 

"I offered," Kuboyasu replied tersely. Kusuo couldn't help but note the way the guy's muscles had suddenly tensed up. 

So tense. He should learn how to relax from time to time, like Kusuo. Kusuo did  so  much relaxing. In fact, he would be doing so right now if there weren't people! In his house! Specifically, people who very much did not belong there. Kusuo was pretty sure rotting in bed counted as relaxing, anyways. It's not as though he was doing anything, right? Ergo, relaxation. 

"It was a thanks for coming out with us," Kuboyasu continued. Which, by the way, was a fucking lie, thank you very much. He had to apologize because he was being a nosy punk who couldn't keep out of Kusuo's business.

Not that there was business that Kusuo had. At least, not the kind Kuboyasu was poking at. 

"That's so sweet of you, Kuboyasu," Kusuo's mom said, gliding into the room holding a tray of beverages. She set it down on the coffee table and cuddled next to her husband. "Thank you all for taking such good care of my grumpy little boy. He's a sweetheart, he's just very shy."

"Sweetheart is a bit far," his dad laughed. "There's probably a decent kid somewhere in there, though! After all, he's Kurumi's kid."

"Oh, honey!" 

Good grief, they were so embarrassing. Just this alone was enough to make Kusuo want to crawl into a hole and die even more than usual. 

Kusuo unfolded himself and suddenly stood up as their thoughts turned even more lovesick and generally all the things that made Kusuo nauseous. As much as he loathed the idea of allowing his nuisances to enter his only sanctuary in the house, the other option was watching this revolting scenario play out. 

Granted, Kusuo watched it every day, but it would be worse in front of these three. He just knew it. 

"Saiki?" Kaido asked curiously, snapping to attention at his movement. 

Kusuo tilted his head toward the stairs. "My room," he replied.

They would understand what he meant, surely. When it came to deciphering any hints of welcomeness from him, they were suddenly experts in his minimalistic language.

'Of course, though, whenever I'm trying to tell them no, they suddenly don't understand,' Kusuo thought bitterly. 

Whatever. It was fine. People read into what they wanted to read into and left the rest of it untouched. All their ignorance meant was that Kusuo had to constantly stay on alert and figure out ways to subvert their extroversion. 

Just as Kusuo expected, their faces lit up at the offer. His mom smiled, thrilled at the fact that Kusuo was 'reaching out to his friends'. 

For a split second, something akin to resentment built in Kusuo. It surprised him, the viciousness of the emotion and speed that it formed. She really didn't see, did she? How much Kusuo loathed being put in this scenario? He had to choose between letting these people into his only safe place in the entire goddamn house or listening to his dad tell them how much of a terrible monster he was.

It was true. That didn't mean Kusuo wanted to hear it, nor did he have to say it at all. 

Kusuo forced himself to take a calming breath, then another, and yet another until he felt the burning flame of his feelings die out into its usual placid calm. 

Getting upset would only just make things worse. Kusuo had to be the responsible one and stay detached. It's not like anybody else would step up to the plate. 

"Take their drinks up with you, Kusuo," his mom reminded. Kusuo took the tray and headed upstairs, sure that the boys would be right at his heels.

"I've never been in your room before, Saiki!" Kaido gushed. The stars in his eyes hurt Kusuo's own. The kid was too bright and excited by half. It was just Kusuo's room. 

"Really?" Kuboyasu asked, just as curious but more muted about it. "I figured you would have at some point. Especially with how eager his mom is to invite people over."

"I've been," Nendo boasted. Kusuo twitched as the lug sat on his bed, then set down the tray of drinks on his kotatsu. "Me and partner are just close like that!"

No, the truth was that Nendo came around so often that it ended up being an inevitability. At the very least, he was alright to watch TV with. 

"Shut up, idiot," Kaido snapped back huffily. "You underestimate the severity of such an offer." Apparently, Kaido had decided it'd been too long since he was cringe because he stuck a hand over his face dramatically and continued to speak in an ominous tone. "To be let into someone's sacred chambers is a momentous thing indeed, especially for my secretive right hand."

"True that," Kuboyasu added. It was nowhere near as theatrical as Kaido's proclamation, but the words still made Kusuo want to roll his eyes. Even if this was his space, it really wasn't all that special.

Hm? What do you mean, "So why did you throw a fit earlier?" Good grief,  Kusuo remembers no such thing. And even if he had, he never externalized it. That meant it didn't count, so there!

"Well that sounded like a whole lotta nothin'," Nendo said. Kaido's resulting yowls had Kusuo considering investing in earplugs.

Wait, that wasn't a half-bad idea…

Kuboyasu had plopped down in front of the kotatsu and was now splayed out in his usual overly-casual way of his. Were all delinquents as insistent on taking up as much space as possible with solely their limbs, or was Kuboyasu just a special case?

With his bed being invaded by a Nendo, Kusuo reluctantly decided to sit near the punk. He resisted the urge to stomp over and instead very gracefully sank down into a more contained position on his knees. 

While Nendo riled up Kaido, Kuboyasu apparently decided that this was the perfect opportunity to satiate his curiosity and asked Kusuo, "Are your folks usually so, er-"

"Eccentric? Yes," Kusuo interrupted. 

Kuboyasu rubbed the back of his neck. "That wasn't quite the word I was going to use. But sure, that works."

Kusuo was aware of this, actually. He could hear some of the potential adjectives cycling through the guy's head, and honestly, they were all pretty dramatic. 

'Degrading', 'dismissive', 'cruel'? Give him a good griefing break.  Kusuo was so, so, so sick of this. Kuboyasu just kept pulling more and more things out of his ass, and it-

Kusuo paused. Tried to register what he was hearing. 

'Does he listen to that the shit all the time? He wasn't defending himself back there.' 

Kuboyasu looked down at his drink, an odd look on his face. He wasn't saying anything out loud, but his face was somehow easily mirroring exactly what he was thinking. 

How weird. What must it be like to express yourself so easily? How did he do it and not fear the reaction of those who saw? Kusuo couldn't understand.

'I wonder if he believes it. And I don't doubt if I push on it, he'll lash out like he did earlier. Is it because he's protective of his parents, or is it because I'm challenging his perception of himself?'

What a pain. Don't word it like that. Kusuo couldn't contest it without seeming as though he was playing into Kuboyaus's suspicions.

'I had really been hoping it wouldn't be the case. God, I had really fucking hoped. But I'm not gonna sit here and pretend it's not real.'

Wait. Don't. Don't.

'Saiki's being abused, isn't he? At the very least, emotionally. And from his words the other day, I wouldn't be surprised if it was physical, too.'

Abused…?

Kusuo had known distantly that this was what it was building up to. That was what Kuboyasu was looking for. Confirmation that Kusuo was being…abused. 

That couldn't be true. Kusuo was too powerful to be victimized like that.

Kuboyasu heaved a sigh and looked up at Kusuo. He distantly noted the weak smile that he was given. But even the sound of Kaido and Nendo's cacophony was far away. 

Kuboyasu had seen his parents. He'd seen them. Purposefully watched the way they interacted with Kusuo.

Underneath the tabletop, Kusuo felt his hands tremble. 

So why did he still think that Kusuo was being mistreated?     

Chapter Text

Kusuo felt sick to his stomach. It twisted and roiled unhappily, soundly exemplifying his anxiety and maybe even adding to it.

It just served to piss him off. Truthfully, he had no reason to be so nervous. Upset, maybe, because Kuboyasu was still pushing and pushing, and apparently hadn’t found a reason to fucking quit it

Kusuo should definitely not be feeling this mind-numbing anxiety currently hitting him like a bus. 

After Kusuo’s delightful realization, he eventually found himself stuck in an odd sort of fugue. The sounds of the other boys became distant and muffled, and his own sense of self grew worryingly fuzzy. He was aware that Kuboyasu tried to engage him in conversation once or twice more, but Kusuo couldn’t muster up the effort to read the guy’s lips, instead letting his eyeline drop back down to the table top. 

He’s pretty sure Kuboyasu gave up after that, but he doesn’t exactly remember. 

He was just so fucking exhausted. But Kusuo couldn’t rest until these idiots left. So, his brain apparently decided to take the initiative and check the hell out. 

Go him. 

Eventually, Kuboyasu suddenly pushed himself up. Kusuo watched muzzily as he walked over to the other two and gestured, likely saying something. Kusuo would usually be freaking out in a situation like this, too unaware to guard against potential threats, too loose-limbed and lax to keep any blows from causing damage. But for some reason he just-

Didn’t care. 

It was almost funny. Kusuo thought he never cared about anything, had listened to his apathy be complained about over and over again until the words were branded into his brain. But now, staring off at the tabletop and feeling all too much like a brain dead vegetable, he knew what it really meant to not care. 

Kusuo jerked when a hand touched his shoulder. Thankfully, he lacked the energy to do something like crash through the ceiling. Lending his gaze to the owner of the too-friendly appendage, Kusuo was unsurprisingly greeted with the pinched face of Kuboyasu. 

Kusuo tried his best to actually focus enough to read the words on the guy’s lips. “Gonna…leaving…okay?”

Leaving…yes, Kusuo wanted them to do that. 

But his mom would be upset if he didn’t walk them out. She might even get angry, or maybe she’d be so disappointed she’d stop talking to him. She’d done that to Dad, back when they first started arguing. 

When was that again? Kusuo had fucked so much with the timeline that it was hopeless for him to try and figure out in this state. 

Kusuo swallowed, trying to regain a sense for his own body, and managed to coordinate his arms enough to push himself up off the ground. Kuboyasu’s hands hovered annoyingly around him, like he thought Kusuo would fall. How laughable. He was a psychic. Kusuo never fell.

He actually wanted Kuboyasu to leave most of all. He was the reason Kusuo was feeling like this, wasn’t he?

How mean of him. So many people in Kusuo’s life were mean to him, but that was okay because he was pretty sure he’d done something to deserve it. He thinks it was the fact that he was such an asshole. 

Yeah, that sounded right. An eye for an eye, right? Kusuo couldn’t be treated nicely because he didn’t treat others nicely. 

Walking somehow served to shake at least a little bit of the syrupy haze from his mind. It was enough to where when Kusuo was watching them walk out the front door, he could actually hear what Kuboyasu said to him as he clapped Kusuo’s shoulder. 

“Do you mind if I come over tomorrow to work on the project with you?”

Oh, yeah. They were partners, weren’t they? What a pain. 

Perhaps on instinct, Kusuo agreed. The thought of saying no wasn’t surfacing right now because saying no took effort to back it up, to face the likelihood of it not meaning anything. 

And Kusuo was so exhausted. He was always so, so, so tired. 

“Great, Saiki. I’ll see you later, okay?” He smiled. Kusuo couldn’t bring himself to continue looking at the teen, instead lending his gaze to the hardwood floor and the space between their feet. 

Huh, Kuboyasu was awfully close. And so touchy-feely as well. Kusuo had kinda just been letting himself be grabbed by the guy today, hadn’t he? That wasn’t like him.

Kusuo heard Kuboyasu sigh. If he was up to feeling anything, the sound might have made him feel guilty. 

Always being a burden, inconveniencing others the second they got too close. Kusuo had tried to keep them away, had covered himself in unfriendliness and irritation to warn them off like the acidic colors of a poisonous animal. People should have avoided him on instinct; Kusuke always had insisted that people knew instantly that he was different. Freakish. 

Yet, he was the first one this boy had begun talking to. 

Good grief, he had to be stupid for sticking around this long. All of them were.

Eventually, the hand left Kusuo’s shoulder. It grew cold immediately, the sensation worming its way through his apathy. Kusuo blinked as it seemed as though the reformed punk had suddenly disappeared, closing the door with a soft click.

They were gone, finally. 

Kusuo’s eyes slipped shut without his say so. He let it happen.

“-usuo?”

Kusuo sucked in a breath and opened his eyes to see his dad staring at him curiously. “Are you pretending to be startled?”

Good grief, he was sick of talking. Rather than respond, Kusuo brushed past him to the couch and sank down. 

“I’m so glad your friends came over, Ku!” His mom gushed somewhere. Kusuo couldn’t even muster up an affirmative noise. His head tipped onto the back of the couch, and a short puff of exhaustion escaped his lips.

“Everything alright, son?” Kuniharu asked. Kusuo, again unaware of when he’d closed them, cracked an eye open to give him a once-over. 

Kusuo licked his lips, trying to focus on the feeling of it. His mouth felt dry. Reaching for his telepathy felt like trying to wrangle a long, slippery snake. Eventually, he was able to respond. “Fine.”

“Well, that’s good!”

Kuboyasu’s worries from earlier swam to the forefront of Kusuo’s mind. He bit his lip and was almost surprised he could feel it.

Kuboyasu really thought that these two were-

No, that couldn’t be true. They loved him. Kusuo knew this. Could even prove it with his powers. 

On a whim, Kusuo flattened out a palm and summoned the affection meter to his eyes alone. The score from his mom was, as before, astronomically high. His dad didn’t quite reach her level, but it was still well above one hundred. 

Kusuo’s parents loved him.

“Hey, since you’re feeling alright, can you run to the store for me? I know it’s late, but please, Kusuomon?”

Kusuo blinked sedately at the ceiling, trying to determine whether it was worth it to make a fuss about going. Then, he thought about going out to a grocery store, with all their bright lights and visual onslaught of products, the music that would ring overhead, the people…

“No.”

Note for the future? This hazy state of existence was perfect for drowning out the sounds of noisy tantrums thrown by adult toddlers who couldn’t handle being told no. 

Kuniharu’s affection meter dropped sharply. Kusuo frowned to see it. 

Ah, well. It made sense. After all, you’d love someone less once they stopped being useful, wouldn’t you?

It took a night’s rest for Kusuo to finally drudge himself out of whatever empty vacuum he’d placed himself in. He knows this because instead of simply sliding away from his grasp like water like they had the night before, his usual depressive thoughts of the morning gripped him and burrowed into his skin like parasites. 

Kusuo opened his eyes. What a pain. The passing thoughts of others’ wishes, the potential routes of that kind of death , Kusuo was highly aware of, albeit unwillingly. Most of the ways people went about it wouldn’t work on him. He was simply too indestructible.

It didn’t really matter, though. It’s not like he wanted to die. 

Kusuo pushed himself up, examining the way the sunlight streamed from his window and landed on his bed. He wiggled his toes under the blankets to watch how it disrupted the pattern the light had formed.

Besides, Kusuo mused. How would he even go about it?

Even he was susceptible to the effects of a lack of oxygen. If he really wanted to, he could go down to the ocean floor and wait. He could even forgo a breath before going under, to speed up the process. 

In his mind’s eye, the picture of his own, lifeless body swam through. Kusuo jolted, snapping out of the sudden bout of morbid rumination. 

What-

What was that about?

Kusuo couldn’t think of an answer. Those thoughts had always been present, but never so…detailed. 

He continued to wiggle his toes, trying to parse through his thoughts without touching the ones from just before, the ones that burned like hot coal and sliced his fingers to the bone. 

It was certainly out of character to admit, but Kusuo was getting the most peculiar feeling that he shouldn’t be alone today. 

Then it should have been a relief when the doorbell rang, Kuboyasu’s thoughts murmuring right alongside it. 

Good grief, Kusuo just realized what time it was. It was already eleven in the morning. His dad should have come in here at some point to bug him and complain about what a lazy excuse for a son Kusuo was. 

…Jeez. What was with Kusuo’s thoughts today? He wasn’t usually so explicitly- well. 

 
Nevermind that.

His mom would answer the door. Kusuo needed to take these precious few minutes to try and think. Especially because there was an idea niggling in the back of his head, something outlandish and insane. 

Kuboyasu kept rooting around for some dirty secret about his household. Kuboyasu would never understand the intricacies of Kusuo’s role in his family because he didn’t have all the pieces.

He kept pushing and pushing. He was cornering Kusuo. Kusuo had been cornered like this many times before, by incessant people prying for information about his life. It didn’t matter that it was his life. You couldn’t fault people who were just fascinated with the freakshow.

It was funny. His brother always insisted that he’d be the first to beat Kusuo, the first to make him taste defeat. But didn’t he know? Kusuo was already low to the ground, humiliated and roiling in loss. It didn’t matter what the score said. Kusuo would never be victorious, not when he was chased down and made to grovel.

Kusuo wasn’t in control of his life. People had forced him to do a lot of things. And maybe Kuboyasu was the worst of them all because he’d barely said a word outloud.

He’d be here alone with the guy. And Kusuo just knows that it’ll come out one way or another. So maybe he should just get it over with.

Maybe Kusuo should just tell Kuboyasu about his powers, and trade one secret to keep another. 

Chapter Text

Kusuo, in the end, decided not to wait until his mom called him. He just took the plunge and dragged himself out of his bed, apporting his pajamas for something presentable and then making his way downstairs. 

His mom was already moving to get the door. Kusuo slipped into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee to try and force the exhaustion clinging to him away. Unfortunately, he ran into his dad, who was standing awkwardly at the sink.

Kusuo raised a brow. Kuniharu didn't cook, nor did he do any of the cleaning. In fact, Kusuo definitely took care of more chores than he did. Why was he in the kitchen?

His dad straightened up and grinned. "Kusuo, hey! Are you just getting up?" He crossed his arms and tapped at his temple. "You know, you really oughta get out of that habit. When you start to work, you won't be able to sleep in so often, and your boss wouldn't want such a lazy worker. Not to mention-"

Oh, that was why he was here. Kusuo turned toward the coffee pot and rolled his eyes, away from his dad's line of sight, as he tuned him out. Good grief, honestly. They took each other out on frequent dates and had numerous couple's nights a week. They clung to each other constantly and blocked out the world in favor of each other. Kusuo honestly didn't get it. 

'Well,'  Kusuo huffed to himself as he began to busy himself with the machine, taking the reservoir out to fill it with water.  'It's better than a straight year of arguing.' 

Even Kusuo would admit, the constant yelling and throwing things (up to and including one's spouse) had grated on his nerves after a single day. And then it had just continued until Kusuo had begun stopping at a convenience store daily after school just to grant himself a singular moment of peace. 

And then he'd be guilted by his dad for not coming home straight away because the man had gotten locked out again. 

The coffee machine began to grind. Kusuo closed his eyes. 

Thinking about that time made him queasy. Now wasn't the time to reminisce on the past. After all, he had a guest to entertain. 

"Don't touch this," Kusuo ordered, knowing he'd come back to a barren and drained coffee if he didn't get this out of the way now. "If you do, I'm breaking your figures."

"What? Kusuo," Kuniharu whined, but Kusuo wasn't feeling up to listening to him babble. He stalked out of the area just in time to run into yet another parent.

"Ku, your friend has been waiting for you," His mom scolded lightly. Kusuo bowed his head slightly in apology, and an affectionate look spread across her features. "Be a good boy, okay?"

Kusuo was always a good boy, thank you very much. It was just a matter of whether Kuboyasu would play nice once he found out about how much lying Kusuo had been doing. 

Probably not. Kusuo wasn't going to get his hopes up. The thought of being forgiven for all of his cowardice, his manipulation and misdirection, his apathy and distaste for others-

It was too much to ask. Too much to fathom. Kusuo wasn't sure he could stomach that. 

Kuboyasu was standing stiffly in the living room. As always, he was avoiding sitting down as though the couch was a bear trap that would snap him up as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He was watching Kusuo interact with his mom carefully and smiled when Kusuo looked over at him. 

"Hey, Saiki," he greeted easily. Kusuo nodded in acknowledgment. 

Kuboyasu was holding a bag. Kusuo looked at it pointedly, and the former punk hefted it onto his shoulder. "These are just the supplies I bought the other day." 

Fine. Kusuo had already decided that being alone today wasn't the best course of action. At least he'd be able to stay in his room and work on this stupid project. 

"Do you want some coffee?" Kusuo asked because he did actually know his manners; he just chose not to use them. At Kuboyasu's agreement (and denial of creamer or sugar, was he insane?) Kusuo sighed and pointed upstairs. The guy obviously understood because he headed up to Kusuo's room as he went to pour their drinks. 

"Homie, that's practically milk at that point," Kuboyasu snickered. Kusuo rolled his eyes and took a pointed sip of his drink. 

He was sorry he doesn't drink black coffee like a good griefing maniac, okay? Kuboyasu could stay drinking his bitter, soulless coffee, and he could do so quietly. 

Kuboyasu laughed for real this time, warm and rich. Kusuo couldn't help the way some of his annoyance softened at the sound. 

Would this end if Kuboyasu knew?

Kusuo looked down at the tabletop, feeling very cold all of a sudden. 

It was terrifying to think that he'd gotten so attached to these idiots that the thought of letting them go made him breathless. 

Kuboyasu nursed his cup, his typical paranoia soothed by the apparent presence of a trusted ally. Kusuo swallowed and tried not to let his shame consume him. 

He needed to think about this rationally. This was probably the best time to tell Kuboyasu about his powers. He was calm and in Kusuo's room. That meant he could just kick out the former punk if he got too aggressive. 

Assuming his mom would let him. But Kusuo would cross that bridge when he got there. 

He just had to come out with it. 

But-

Kuboyasu's eyes flicked up to Kusuo's. "Everything alright, Saiki?"

Kusuo was scared. He was scared of what Kuboyasu would say, if he would tell the others, how deeply his hatred would run. Kusuo was scared because he knew that that hatred ran under his own skin, and he wouldn't be able to stand it coming from one of these people. 

He already had that broiling, blackened loathing from someone who was supposed to love him, and had his own self-hatred instilled into him. Maybe it was a way to tame him, to keep him from becoming uncontrollable and fulfilling every horrible prediction they had laid out before him.

Kusuo swirled his drink around, looking down at it to avoid looking at Kuboyasu's too-honest, overly concerned eyes. It just made him sick to his stomach. 

Made him itchy. Made him want to run from this.  

"Hey," Kuboyasu said, reaching over to place a hand over Kusuo's. "I meant what I said before, homie. If you need help with anything, I'll always be there."

Kusuo swallowed and forced himself to look up. 

"I know what you've been doing," Kusuo said. His voice was quiet, but for some reason, he was unable to bring it above the almost inaudible tone it had taken on. 

Kuboyasu startled slightly. Kusuo shut his eyes to try and block the sight of him out. It was silent for a moment longer, then, "Saiki, I've just been really worried about you."

"But you shouldn't be," Kusuo whispered back, feeling choked up with the shame of it all. "I have to tell you something. Please just listen, okay?"

"Okay," Kuboyasu agreed easily. 

Kusuo could feel his hand shaking. He hid it under the table and forced himself to open his eyes. "I have psychic powers," he said simply. 

That was it. No fanfare, no dramatics. If Kusuo pretended that it was nothing, that it didn't really mean anything to him, then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much when Kuboyasu flipped out. 

Kuboyasu blinked at him. His mouth opened, but then strangely, it closed with an audible click. 

He was still waiting for Kusuo to give the go-ahead to speak. Good grief, he really didn't deserve people like this in his life. 

"I have almost every ability imaginable," Kusuo continued. "Clairvoyance, psychokinesis, augmented strength, x-ray vision...telepathy," he tacked on, watching with a growing icy pain as Kuboyasu's eyes grew wide. 

"I have everything, and I've been using it solely for my own benefit." Kusuo sighed. "I've manipulated situations, willfully avoided you all with them, ignored people in need, and lied to you all. I've even been resetting the world yearly to try and avoid Japan from being destroyed. And I've modified everyone's memories so they don't suspect anything."

Kusuo hadn't meant to tell him that. But after his first confession, the dam he'd built to stem his river of lies had collapsed, and now it was all rushing out of him like a stream. Distantly, he noted with horror the sheer truth of it all, the weapon he had just handed over to Kuboyasu. He could be like his brother, constantly holding it over his head and threatening to expose him if he didn't go along with his wishes. Or maybe he'd start to abuse Kusuo's powers and make him do things for him, like his dad. 

But Kusuo couldn't bring himself to care. Somewhere, deep down inside of him, he'd wanted to be punished for his mistakes and shortcomings, for all of the bad karma he'd seemingly racked up since he was a little kid. Maybe Kuboyasu would realize what was good for him and abandon Kusuo, and take everyone with him. 

It would be no less than he deserved. 

 "That's why-" Kusuo blinked, trying to dispel the sudden prickling heat from his eyes. "That's why you shouldn't be worried. I can take care of it all by myself. And whatever you've seen with my parents, just forget about it. Things are different because of my powers. I have to be the responsible one, and sometimes that means that they don't treat me the same way another parent might treat their kid, but that's okay. I'm not normal. I'm-"

A freak. A monster. 

"I'm sorry," Kusuo finished lamely. "For everything."

His head throbbed. Kusuo hadn't said so many words in such a short time in so long. He wasn't much of a talker to begin with, but it was rare for him to have this kind of attention on him, to have someone willing to sit down and listen. It was almost stressful. 

Kuboyasu was still looking at him attentively. When he realized that Kusuo's words were no longer flowing freely, he looked down at his own drink, trying to parse through the bomb Kusuo had just dropped down on his understanding of life. 

Another stab of guilt shot through Kusuo's chest. He did this to everyone that got too close. 

"That," Kuboyasu began slowly. Kusuo couldn't help the anxiety that welled in him. "Was a lot."

He managed a weak smile, finally looking back up at Kusuo. "I..." he floundered for a moment. "It explains some things. Some inconsistencies. And I do appreciate your apology because I know how much you meant it. I know this wasn't easy to tell me, Saiki."

Kusuo blinked harshly again. Yeah, it-

Yeah. It had given him the same terror of facing down that volcano year after year, almost overwhelmed with the desire to give up. 

Repeating a year was one thing. But Kusuo wasn't sure he could survive having to repeat it after losing people in his life because of his own selfish existence. 

"I think I'm...angry." Kuboyasu settled on. "But I've come to realize that that's just my reaction to anything that's not easy for me to parse through. So, imma go slowly with this because I care about you, and I don't want to hurt you."

Kusuo could hear how painstakingly Kuboyasu was choosing his words. Kusuo felt like he might be sick.

"I think that you're unhappy. And now that I know all of this, maybe it's because of your powers. Maybe something goes on that I don't know about, that I couldn't understand because I just simply don't have those kinds of abilities. Despite all of that, though, I'm still gonna worry about you. Because you're my homeboy, and you having these- these powers, doesn't change that," Kuboyasu said, gaining momentum now that he'd found his footing. 

Kusuo shivered at his words. He still considered them friends, then.

He almost couldn't stand it. He wanted Kuboyasu to hate him, wanted him to cast him aside and make him feel everything that Kusuo had made those affected by his powers feel. He deserved it, he  deserved  it. 

Kusuo didn't get to have nice things. 

"But, Saiki, I- the thing about your parents..."

Kusuo leaned forward. This was what he had been trying to fix; Kuboyasu's concern was unneeded and unwanted. It was the whole reason he'd exposed himself so horribly, just so Kusuo could put an end to this nonsense. 

"My opinion hasn't changed. And you apparently already know what I believe. I still think that you're being mistreated."

What. 

"No, but-" Kusuo responded, his breath hitching in panic. "But that doesn't make sense. I told you why it didn't matter."

"Nothing you said changed my mind," Kuboyasu replied firmly. "The way they treat you, from the little I've seen, is wrong, Saiki."

"It's not," Kusuo hissed back. "It can't be. They have to be that way, don't you understand? I've screwed everything up. This is just the way it is."

"What way, Saiki?" Kuboyasu asked, also tensing up. This would get out of control soon, Kusuo knew. But he couldn't stop the way his thoughts were stuck on the fact that Kuboyasu didn't understand. "Where you're threatened and talked down to? Where your dad tells your friends that you don't deserve us, that you're apparently just a fucking monster or something?"

Kusuo's mind went silent at the verbiage. Kuboyasu barreled on. "What else? Do you listen to that on a day-to-day basis? Do you listen to them talk to you like that and just accept it as the way things are? Do they-" 

The wind seemingly left Kuboyasu's sails. He slouched slightly, placing his head in his hands and looking down. His expression was wrenching. "Do they hit you, too?"

"No, they-" Kusuo started, trying to piece together his scrambling thoughts." I mean, my mom has never laid a hand on me. And, and even if Dad has it's never actually hurt me. They can't hurt me, Kuboyasu, that's what you're not getting. Nothing they do affects me. "

Kuboyasu is silent. Kusuo swallows and leans back, feeling suddenly exhausted. 

"You know, my dad used to hit me," Kuboyasu started weakly. Kusuo's stomach twisted. "I'm sure you're aware."

Yeah. He'd known. 

"And when I got older, maybe closer to middle school," Kuboyasu continued, hunching over more, like he was imagining a threat and trying to protect himself. "His blows hurt a lot less. Obviously. I was getting whaled on both at school and sometimes at home. I was used to it. I'm still a very fast healer."

"Kuboyasu," Kusuo whispered, but the other cut him off. 

"Sometimes it wouldn't even be a full-out punch or anything. It was just a swat on the back of the head when I was being stupid or pulling some shit I knew I shouldn't have." 

Kuboyasu pulled up his head to look at Kusuo." Those times that it didn't hurt, do you think it was still abuse?"

"Of course," Kusuo replied stiffly. "He shouldn't have been laying his hands on you."

"So how is this any different?"

"It just is, it-"

"Don't give me that shit," Kuboyasu snapped, his patience thinning. "How is this any fucking different?"

"You didn't deserve it," Kusuo swallowed. 

"And you do?"

"I- it-" Kusuo could feel his breath beginning to quicken. 

"Look," Kuboyasu said, leaning forward with a heavy look in his eyes. It demanded Kusuo's attention, and he found himself staring forward despite his need to flee. "If you can tell me, right here, right now, that you don't deserve any of the crap they do to you, I'll leave this all alone. I'll never bring it up again."

Kusuo continued to pant. He just needed to tell Kuboyasu what he wanted to hear, and this would all be over. 

"It-" Kusuo started, then suddenly, a boiling desperation took over him, and he could once more no longer control the words coming from him. "Please don't do this to me, I've already told you everything. I've made myself so vulnerable, and you're still fucking pushing. Please, just-"

"Tell me you don't deserve it."

"Why are you fucking doing this?" Kusuo cried out, pushing himself up to stand. "You shouldn't care! I've done horrible things. I will continue to lie to protect myself. I'm a selfish monster, and I deserve the way they treat me because it's hard to put up with me. That's what you don't fucking get. You're biased because you only see me when I'm silent. When I speak, when I do what I want, it's hard not to treat me that way. They have to put up with me like this, Kuboyasu. It's  not  their fault."

Kuboyasu's eyes narrowed.  "I'm  managing it just fine. You're doing all the things you don't usually, talking and standing up for yourself. I'm still here, treating you like a goddamn human being. So why don't they?"

"Because-" Kusuo tried. "Because-"

Funny. Kuboyasu was managing it just fine. And he wasn't even obligated to love Kusuo. 

So why didn't his parents treat listen to him like this?

"Fuck, Saiki. Hey, I'm sorry. I know I pushed a lot, it's okay, homie," Kuboyasu said, standing up and coming close to Kusuo.

Why would they do that to him?  How  could they?

"Shh, it's okay." Kuboyasu continued to fuss, wrapping his arms around him and tugging him in close. Kusuo was inanely reminded of the paint tubes from just yesterday and wondered why he was still allowing himself to be moved around like that. "It's okay to cry."

"No," Kusuo moaned in response, suddenly aware of the incriminating wetness on his cheeks. "I hate you, I  hate  you."

"I know, buddy. I know."

What was Kusuo even doing? He thought he'd been fighting against Kuboyasu's investigations because he wanted to avoid the attention it brought, because he wanted to preserve his secret. 

But that was out. It had been wrung from him like the dirty water of a dish rag, and now there was nothing left to hide. 

Kusuo breathed into Kuboyasu's shirt and realized with a start that this was what he'd been avoiding all along. Having to face the truth and having to receive comfort. It burned and ached because he knew, deep down, just how much he didn't deserve to have something like this.

Chapter Text

Kuboyasu’s embrace was warm. Kusuo only realized this fact after he’d whimpered and hiccuped himself hoarse.

(Well, even more hoarse because Kusuo’s actual voice apparently sounded like a yowling, pubescent cat. Good grief, was there anything more embarrassing? Why was it like that?)

The realization made his shoulders itch with a heavy sense of shame. Kusuo shouldn’t be accepting… this. Kuboyasu might only be comforting him out of a sense of responsibility; he was just that good of a guy. But he was probably getting sick of it now. They’d been standing for almost five minutes, and all he’d been doing was rubbing Kusuo’s back like he was a child and whispering stupid things like “It’s okay, I got you” and “Shh, you’re safe.”

How forgiving would Kuboyasu be if Kusuo puked on his shirt, huh? Because that’s exactly what he felt like doing. Kusuo sniffled back the humiliating wetness in his nose and tried to parse through Kuboyasu’s thoughts, searching for any hints of annoyance or impatience. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to let go, it’s just- he- needed a bit of encouragement to do so. 

But there wasn’t anything of the sort. 

Kusuo bit his lip. He just didn’t understand. Kuboyasu literally had a track record of losing his cool. It was, like, his thing. Kusuo would have been so fucking understanding if he was shoved away or abandoned, he’d already-

Kusuo had already made peace with the fact that Kuboyasu — known hater of liars, cowards, etcetera etcetera — wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore. The fact that he was still here was making Kusuo feel worryingly off-kilter, like he was stumbling blindly in a city crowd where there were too many people pressing in, and the thoughts all meshed together until it was just a deafening roar. 

Something in Kusuo’s core quivered anxiously. He must have started shaking or something because Kuboyasu’s grip tightened and he reached up to press Kusuo’s head more firmly into his chest. Offering support. Comfort.

Love? 

Kusuo couldn’t stand it. He’d found his motivation: pure self-loathing. He pushed back against Kuboyasu’s grip, and couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved that he was released without fuss. For his own peace of mind, he’d believe it was the latter.

Good grief, he’d left a huge wet spot on Kuboyasu’s shirt. If there really was a god, could they do him a favor and strike him dead? That was if he didn’t pass away out of sheer humiliation. 

Kusuo looked up to try and avoid the sight, but was met with the sight of Kuboyasu’s intense, worried eyes. Both were awful options. He chose the third route and instead turned his head to the side, fixing his gaze on his very interesting bookshelf. 

…One of Kusuke’s cameras was there. Kusuo blinked, a new but just as awful emotion building in him very quickly. He quashed it as best he could just so he wouldn’t have to put a name to it. 

His eyes burned from his earlier tears. It made Kusuo realize just how exposed he was right now, about how much his brother had been vying for this scene for years. How jealous would he be that Kuboyasu beat him to that?

“...How are you feeling?”

Kusuo couldn’t help himself; he shot Kuboyasu a squinting glare and pressed his mouth into a firm line pointedly. How did he think Kusuo was feeling?

Kuboyasu still didn’t seem annoyed. The corner of his lip even twitched a bit. “Yeah, dumb question, I know.” That hint of a smile disappeared quickly, though, and was readily replaced with something soft and pleading. “I know I’ve asked a lot of you. I know you’ve bared a lot. But please I-”

His shoulders slouched slightly. “I just wanna help you, Saiki.”

Stupid. Stupid punks. Stupid big brother. Stupid fucking him. Just curse it all. Kusuo grit his teeth and shut his eyes. 

Was he really going to do this?

“I…” Ugh. He swallowed, shifted nervously, then tried again. “I’m tired. And embarrassed. And my eyes hurt.” 

He opened his eyes. Kuboyasu had that sad little kicked puppy expression on his face again. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Saiki. I won’t judge you…”

But someone watching would. Kusuo just didn’t have a place he could feel both comfortable and safe. He would always have to give up one to get the other. 

Kusuo didn’t respond. Kuboyasu sighed, and Kusuo hoped he didn’t flinch too much at the sound. Good grief, he hated being like this, all sniffly and pathetic. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. 

“You should come home with me,” Kuboyasu said suddenly. 

Kusuo snapped his head up and gave him a bewildered look. How would that solve anything?

“Just for the day,” Kuboyasu explained. “I wanna know more about you. Try and figure out what you believe. And somehow I feel like you don’t feel safe, even in here.”

Something cold dripped down Kusuo’s insides, like ice dropping into a glass of water. His mouth felt dry with nerves. How could he possibly…?

What was he to say to that?

“And if I don’t want to go?” Kusuo finally sputtered out defensively. 

Kuboyasu shrugged. “That’s fine with me.”

And when Kusuo read his mind, he came to the startling realization that it really was. He’d be disappointed, but Kuboyasu wasn’t planning on forcing him to come along and spill his guts, wasn’t trying to make him break down again just to learn something about him. Maybe that’s why-

“Okay,” Kusuo whispered after a moment. “Okay, we can, we can go.”

-why he said yes. 

When they were leaving, Kusuo’s mom had assumed he was kicking Kuboyasu out. You can certainly guess how she’d reacted. Even as they were walking to Kuboyasu’s place, Kusuo could still see the other twitching with residual anxiety, and hear his brain frothing with that protective instinct of his.

At least he didn’t verbalize it. Kusuo would have turned right back around. He wouldn’t stand for anyone bad-talking his mom, even if it was a teensy-bit true. 

“I’ll admit,” Kuboaysu suddenly piped up. His bag of art supplies rustled noisily as they walked. “The project was just kind of an excuse to see you. My canvas is at home.”

“I knew,” Kusuo responded quietly. 

Kuboyasu looked up, his brow tight. “I guess you would have, huh?” He looked down at Kusuo and cocked his head like a curious dog. “Is it hard to stay quiet when people lie to you?”

Kusuo had heard the question being formulated, but somehow it still surprised him. Whenever people learned about his telepathy, the immediate reaction was usually one of crippling fear or intense admiration — if not jealousy. The fact that Kuboyasu had not had any of those reactions, but was instead genuinely asking him about an issue Kusuo had to face almost daily?

Kusuo’s stomach flipped, but this time it wasn’t because he felt sick. He blinked, then put the reaction aside. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but anything new in the emotions territory was often not very good. 

“It’s not hard to stay quiet. I’m very good at that,” Kusuo said flatly. Kuboyasu snorted, and Kusuo fought back a smile. “It’s harder to stay around them sometimes, though. Everyone lies, and I’m desensitized to a lot of it. White lies don’t tend to bother me. It’s…”

Kuboyasu didn’t push, just waited patiently. Kusuo was overtly glad for it; the sincere question was somehow making him want to give a good answer. “It’s confusing to me when people act in an entirely different way than they think. Weddings, a lot of the time, are good examples of this. People smile and congratulate the couple on the outside, but make bets on how long their relationship will last on the inside.”

“Jesus,” Kuboyasu muttered, shaking his head. 

“I just don’t get it,” Kusuo sighed, then paused. “Well, I guess I don’t have much room to be talking.”

Kuboyasu frowned sharply. “That’s different.”

“You’re biased.”

“No, seriously, it’s different,” he insisted. “They’re just trying to keep up a farce, act like they care or some shit. All you’re doing is trying to keep yourself safe.”

Kusuo stopped in his tracks. Kuboyasu stopped after another two steps as well, then looked back nervously. “Sorry. I didn’t mean- sorry.”

Kusuo forced himself to take a breath. “It’s fine.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

Kuboyasu’s house was still just as eccentric as the last time he’d been here. Kusuo toed a suspiciously stained metal pipe out of the way and sat down cautiously at the low-set table in the other’s room. Kuboyasu tossed the bag on his bed and flopped over after it. 

The other was nervous, trying to figure out what to do. If Kusuo had the energy, he would have taken pity on the guy and taken initiative.  

His head throbbed. Kusuo let his eyes slide shut, just for a moment. Good grief, he’d forgotten just how terrible crying could be even after. He’d need to remember to never do it ever again. 

At some point, Kuboyasu managed to gather himself up enough to sit up. “Are you willing to talk to me?” He asked, simple and direct. It was just like him. 

Kusuo could say no. Just because Kuboyasu knew some things didn’t mean Kusuo had to indulge him anymore. It was a wonder Kusuo hadn’t shut him down already, let alone continuing to indulge him.

But he could say no. Kuboyasu wouldn’t ignore him. His denial would actually mean something, for once. 

Kusuo looked over. The boy looked tired, to put it bluntly. Stress that hadn’t been there earlier had tightened his eyes. It made him look older. Is that what the guy had looked like in his punk days?

The thought made his chest hurt. Kusuo pushed that emotion aside, too. 

Despite his evident exhaustion, Kuboyasu still wanted to do this. He was reaching out to someone as cold and aloof as Kusuo, trying to just, what, understand? Jeez. What was he, a saint?

The kind thing to do would be to push Kuboyasu away. 

But… “What do you want to know?” Kusuo asked softly, finally giving into his urges and shifting to press his knees to his chest. 

Kuboyasu wouldn’t see it that way, though. He’d never been one to run away, even that one time Kaido had told him to. It was because he had been in danger. And now, that’s what Kuboyasu believed about Kusuo.

Kusuo was a coward. But he was too tired to run from this. And besides, where would he even go? Back home, to a place he knew he would be monitored and examined like a disease under a microscope, someone taking note of every weakness he had? And his parents-

The thought of seeing them right now made him feel breathless. 

Staying here with the boy who had pressed him to his chest and let him hide away as he cried seemed like the safer option.

Chapter Text

Whenever Kusuo spoke, Kuboyasu stayed quiet. He also seemed to wait until he was absolutely certain Kusuo’s words had dried up before asking another of those slightly-invasive questions. 

It was weird. Really weird, honestly. He wasn’t used to people just…letting him talk. He did it so rarely, after all, that it was easy to ignore or simply go unnoticed. People just didn’t expect it. 

It all came back to him skirting attention. And now that he had it, he wasn’t sure if the odd glow of something swelling in him was all that bad. 

Attention wasn’t good. Kusuo didn’t want it. 

Kuboyasu’s eyes were so intense, fixated entirely on him. He was enraptured with every word that flowed from Kusuo’s telepathy. 

…He didn’t want it. Right? Right.

Kuboyasu’s questions had been nerve-wracking originally, but now Kusuo had settled into the rhythm of them. They were mostly about his powers, just asking about how they changed the way he lived his life. Kuboyasu wasn’t treating him like he was a god, able to solve all of his problems with a wave of his hand. The things he was asking almost made it seem like he understood just how hard it was to live like this. 

At some point, Kusuo had relaxed. But that quickly changed one Kuboyasu began to veer away to a different subject. 

It was subtle at first. But that kind of thing wouldn’t work on Kusuo. Not when he could quite literally hear Kuboyasu trying to work toward this gracefully. 

“Are your parents always really lovey-dovey?” He asked casually. 

Kusuo could feel himself shutting down. He squeezed his ankles, reminding himself to stay in the moment. “Yes,” he responded shortly. 

‘Woah, instant mood change,’ Kuboyasu noted inwardly. ‘I don’t want him to close himself off again, but what can I do?’

He smiled awkwardly. “You sure you’re comfortable with this?”

Ugh. Kusuo nodded stiffly. Sure, it was a lie, but not a significant one. Kuboyasu wasn’t really asking if he was ‘comfortable’; there was no way in hell he ever would be for this conversation. He was more so asking if he was still allowed to push. And Kusuo had already decided he could, so there was no way he could back out now.

Or something like that. He needed Kuboyasu to stop checking in on him. All that would happen was Kusuo would eventually take his chance and run for it. 

“Kuboyasu,” Kusuo sighed. The other perked up, nerves written clearly across his face. Kusuo frowned to see it. “Can you just…ask what you wanna ask?”

It had been fine up until now, but Kusuo had always known it was just to get him calm. The sentiment was nice but not something he was used to. He just wanted Kuboyasu to come out with it. 

He couldn’t be trusted to make decisions about these kinds of things. The only thing he’d do was run away. 

Kuboyasu went quiet, but Kusuo could hear his mind practically sprinting, trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. There were a lot of questions floating around his brain, ranging from things as vague as “How long?” to something as painful and raw as “What’s the worst thing they’ve ever done to you?” Most were brief and impulsive, the worst of which Kuboyasu mentally reared back in disgust. A lot of it seemed to be borne from his own experiences, and Kusuo couldn’t help but wonder if Kuboyasu had other motivations beyond helping his friend. 

Well, if he was projecting, Kuboyasu wasn’t consciously aware of it. 

Finally, Kuboyasu settled on one. “Who knows?”

Kusuo wanted to raise a brow. His entire being felt stiff, though. So instead, he rebuffed, “It depends what you mean by ‘knows’. All of my family has seen-”

Kusuke. Aiming to hurt and maim and humiliate. They knew the ‘games’ he played when he was younger, but did they know what their son was up to now? 

Would they even care?

“-most of it,” Kusuo finished quietly. “It’s a different story whether or not they think it’s…”

You know. The word Kuboyasu would use. 

That answer didn’t seem to make Kuboyasu very happy. He narrowed his eyes. “Anyone with eyes would know the way they talk to you is wrong. Your dad just talked shit about you the entire time I was there, your mom-”

“Don’t,” Kusuo interrupted sharply. “Talk about her. I don’t want to hear it.”

Kuboyasu faltered, then swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” he conceded. It took a moment, but he found his footing just a moment later. “Regardless, you’re constantly being put down and ignored. You can’t even tell your friends when you want them to stop doing something.”

“Would you even listen?” Kusuo shot at him.

Kuboyasu’s expression flashed with hurt, and good grief, Kusuo didn’t think it was possible to hate himself more. “I would have listened,” Kuboyasu said softly. “If I had known- god Saiki, if any of us had known-” 

He blinked harshly. It was hard to watch. Kuboyasu was so genuinely upset on Kusuo’s behalf it was almost unbearable. 

“You’re more than just entertainment, or whatever you think about why we stick around. You deserve to be listened to.”

Something built up in Kusuo’s throat, and good grief, he fucking refused to cry again. He grit his teeth and stared stubbornly forward. “I already told you, it’s different knowing me when I’m silent versus when I speak. 

“And I told you,” Kuboyasu frowned. “That I’m handling it just fine. That excuse doesn’t work because it’s just not true.”

Kusuo sputtered for a moment, then finally looked over to glare. “You guys didn’t listen when I tried pushing you away originally. Do you think I was right then? Or did that decision not matter? You can’t have it both ways. Either I can make decisions for myself or I can’t.”

Kuboyasu paused at that, his mouth clicking closed audibly. Kusuo’s mouth twisted unhappily at his hesitancy for a second, but-

The other had been patient with Kusuo. The least Kusuo could do was return the favor. 

So, he breathed carefully and forced himself not to jump to conclusions, instead waiting for a response. 

It took a bit. When Kuboyasu spoke again, it was with heavy stiltedness, not like he was unsure of what to say, but like he was trying to make sure it came out correctly. “I think you…deprive yourself of things. Because I don’t know if you know how to deny yourself.”

Kusuo blinked. “What?” He asked, the question slipping out without his say-so. But seriously. What did that even mean?

Kuboyasu pursed his lips slightly and looked up. “When you speak your mind, it’s easy to tell when you’re being genuine. You’re more expressive than you think.” Kusuo blinked in affront but Kuboyasu was already moving on. “You can definitely make your own decisions. And I think at some point you’d made the decision to keep others out. It just…wasn’t one you could stick to, once you had it.”

Kusuo blinked. Took a breath. “Had what?” He asked weakly. 

Kuboyasu looked at him, his expression bordering on pity. “Friends, Saiki. People who cared about you. Who wanted to just be with you, regardless of whether they got something out of it.” He hesitated a moment, his fingers pulling and tugging at his comforter. Good grief. There were already loose strings on it; one day, it would unravel in his hands and he’d have no one to blame but himself. “Well, I guess I can’t speak for everyone. But those were my intentions at least. I just want you to know-”

He looked back up. Some part of Kusuo’s chest made an odd thump at the sight, like an old, rusty gear clicking and jerking into place. He clenched his fist beside him and hoped Kuboyasu didn’t pick up on anything strange. 

“-that I at least never wanted anything from you. Even now,” Kuboyasu admitted. “You have people that would do fucking anything just to see you laugh or smile. You weren’t prepared for anyone to be willing to stick around. And once they made it past your walls you…didn’t have any defenses left.”

Silence. It was so loud Kusuo could hear it in his ears, ringing through his hollow insides like the echo of a bell in an abandoned church. Something was prickling sharply in him, freezing and piercing, making his hands tremble. He stared without blinking. His heartbeat was loud in his ears. He felt-

He didn’t have the words for it. 

Kuboyasu’s expression grew uneasy and his body tensed. Kusuo could see his muscles beginning to twitch, some part of the other’s hindbrain humming with growing nerves. 

He couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt like he’d just been shot point blank by someone he hadn’t even noticed standing right next to him. Kusuo knew Kuboyasu was observant but…

These were things he never wanted to think about. Things that had gotten repressed alongside everything else from his younger years. There were memories and certain pieces of knowledge buried deep within him because they burned when he tried to handle them.

How funny. For someone so resistant to fire, he’d been burned one too many times in life. And now he was like this, pathetic and afraid of the words of someone he’d reluctantly come to care about. 

Good grief, what a fucking joke. 

“Saiki?” Kuboyasu croaked nervously. 

Kusuo felt his bottom lip twitch. He tightened his fists and turned to stare forward, unwilling to look at the boy who had made him feel this way.

“Was that too much?”

If Kusuo had the energy, he’d laugh. It was all too much. Being friends with any of them was too fucking much. It wasn’t because they were annoying or persistent or overly pushy, even if they were. 

It was too much for Kusuo to have. It didn’t feel right, not chasing them away. Sooner or later, they’d end up like how his first friend did: bloodied and abandoned, with no explanation because there wasn’t one he could give that would possibly make them hate him less. 

“I…” Kusuo tried. He sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly desperate for it. “I just…don’t understand. Why. You would. Stick around?”

The wave of emotions that rose up in Kuboyasu made Kusuo feel like he’d just been suckerpunched. He buried his face in his hands, having long accepted that there was no way to win back his dignity from this. He heaved for air as quietly as he could manage. He felt like he was finally falling to pieces, that this was the moment it all came crashing down. He’d been fighting for so fucking long, all for it to be worth nothing. In the end, alone or not, he couldn’t change. He wouldn’t. His life was so fucking miserable, he couldn’t do it anymore, good grief, just- just-

A foreign, humiliating sound broke out of his mouth. Kusuo clapped a hand over it, but the whining sob bursting from him still made his shoulders hunch and his form curl. He continued to breath harshly through his nose, then his mouth once that wasn’t getting him the air he somehow needed. 

He was dying. He had to be dying. 

“You’re not dying,” Kuboyasu said. His voice was back in that low rumble, the one he’d used earlier to soothe Kusuo. “I know it feels like it, but I promise you’ll be okay.”

“I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do this anymore,” Kusuo blabbered. “Please, I’m so fucking tired, I can’t, I can’t…”

Kuboyasu gasped sharply. “Don’t say that,” he whispered. 

“It’s true, god, you have no idea how hard it is to just exist every day,” Kusuo moaned. “It’s always the same, I’m in agony every single day. I just don’t know how to live without being fucking miserable. Something’s wrong with me, something’s wrong with me.”

Kusuo sobbed and gasped desperately into the silence of Kuboyasu’s room. A gentle hand tried to reach out, tried to wrap around him, but Kusuo shook his head and moved away. He didn’t want a repeat of just an hour ago. Somehow he deserved this. He had to have done something to deserve this. Otherwise why would it happen?

At his side, Kuboyasu shifted. Then stood up and began to walk away from Kusuo. 

Even though he'd literally just pushed Kuboyasu away, he couldn’t help it; he made another of those loud brays, that whining bark of a kicked dog. “No, no, stay with me, don’t go, please, just sit with me, why can’t you just stay with me?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Saiki. I promise,” Kuboyasu replied. He was back in an instant, and this time, placed something down in front of him. 

Kusuo blinked, confused enough to get his mind off of the thrashing storm it was entrapped in. He sniffed, hiccuped, then looked up at the other. 

“Why-” He started to hyperventilate again, just for a moment, then tried his best to wrangle his panic back in long enough to ask. “Why did you- give me this?”

The canvas was a blank white. It looked overly clean against the scratched and cut table top. 

Kuboyasu went away again. Kusuo didn’t cry out this time, only alternating between rapid breathing and holding his breath to try and get himself under control as he watched him. The sound of rustling met his ears, and Kusuo found himself watching in further astonishment as Kuboyasu tossed the bag of art supplies over.

“What?” Kusuo gaped. 

Kuboyasu plunked down and began rummaging through. He pulled out the vibrant paints, then the brushes, and spread them out in front of Kusuo. 

Kusuo stared at them confusedly. His chest ached distantly as he forced his lungs to expand, trying to catch his breath. 

“I want you to paint,” Kuboyasu said steadily. “Whatever you’re feeling.”

Kusuo blinked. Tears spilled out hotly. Goddamnit, he hadn’t wanted to do that again. “But…I don’t know what this is,” he said weakly. His body jerked, and he grunted. 

“That’s okay,” Kuboyasu replied. “That’s why you’re going to paint it.”

“How- how can I-”

“It doesn’t have to be comprehensible,” he interrupted. “Just put some colors on there. It’ll help you calm down, give you something to focus on.”

Kusuo looked down on it. It was so pristine. Anything he put on there would dirty it, make it ugly and unusable. “But you were gonna use it…” Kusuo mumbled, like he was some sort of child. He grit his teeth against the shame of it all.

“I’ll just sketch over it,” Kuboyasu parried. “Don’t worry about me. You need to take care of yourself right now.”

“But I’ll…I’ll destroy it,” Kusuo finally admitted softly. “It won’t work. It-”

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’m going to ruin it all. Nothing good will come of it.”

“Saiki,” Kuboyasu said firmly. Kusuo looked up at him, and was handed a thick brush. He took it and curled his fingers stiffly around the handle. “If it comes from you, I fucking swear to you, something beautiful will come out of it. I promise.”

Kusuo pulled back slightly. Blinked again, the tears still dripping down like raindrops sliding off of a roof.

Kuboyasu popped open the cap to one of the paints. Red squirted out directly onto the table, Kuboyasu seemingly uncaring of the mess that it would leave behind. 

Kusuo took in a shaky breath, dipped the broad tip of the brush in it, and began to slather it on the canvas.

Chapter Text

It was as quiet as it ever got for Kusuo. 

The side of town Kuboyasu lived on was less than picturesque, but it was far from the ideas Kaido held about it the last time they visited. There was still the sound of two siblings giggling as they stayed up past their bedtime, a couple’s hushed argument a room over from their sleeping teenager, a single mom’s tired thoughts as she rubbed her fussy toddler’s back; these were the background noises to Kusuo’s existence. They were the simple byproduct of life, unchanging regardless of the area he was in.

With the static buzzing away in his head, the thoughts in his radius were too distant to truly distract him. It was a blessing, especially because of how hard he was having to focus to do something as simple as keeping his lines straight. 

At least he was actually accomplishing that now. His lines from earlier were crooked and jagged from the tremors that had wracked his hands, the colors smearing messily. Kusuo tried to cover it up after a while, to at least try and salvage some of the ugly muddying effect that he’d accidentally caused. 

But Kuboyasu had frowned, and even if he hadn’t said anything, there was a twinge of disappointment that went through him when Kusuo started to cover it up. That alone had been enough to make Kusuo freeze, his limbs stiffening up as his stomach twisted at that miniscule hint of disapproval. 

He didn’t try it again. He’d just humiliate himself. 

He was getting closer to the edge of the canvas. Now that he was no longer bawling his eyes out and panting like a moron, he could see how stupid he’d been when he first started painting. The rare times he’d painted, he’d always started from the one end and methodically applied paint until it was one solid color: no fading, visible brushstrokes, splotchiness — in other words, visually flawless.

He hardly painted for the same reason he rarely drew. There was no point in doing something he would inevitably be perfect at. What was the fun in it?

But this ‘painting’ was far from pretty. Some of the lines were streaky and faint, while others were thick and clumpy. Kusuo swallowed thickly and tried not to think about how embarrassing it was to look at. Instead, he tried his best to fill up the edges, working in soft yellows and pinks. It was a sharp contrast from the eye-bleeding center, a mess of saturated primary colors and their random intermixing. 

Something in Kusuo quivered unhappily as he drew back and took in the sight. Nothing he did was anything less than perfect. Why would it be? He had no excuse to create anything less than that. He was, in the words of others, a practical god. 

Would they believe he would create something like this? Kusuo had thought he’d kill for the opportunity to be normal. Normal people created lackluster things. It was just a fact of life. But now that he had-

It just felt like losing control. 

Kusuo blinked harshly, pressing his lips together so they didn’t wobble. Next to him, Kuboyasu’s form remained steady and solid, like a tree standing firm against the harsh elements. 

Kusuo thought about those strong hands cupping his head and rubbing up his back, and felt something ache in him, deep in his bones, primal and needy. Humans were social creatures, but did he deserve to be considered one? Did humans deserve to get lumped in with him?”

Kuboyasu shifted closer. Kusuo tried not to squirm away, willing himself to remain open for once. The boy was trying to help him. He couldn’t do that if Kusuo kept pushing him away.

(Even if he’d already done that over and fucking over again. Good grief, why was Kuboyasu so stubborn? It wasn’t as though Kusuo was very nice, either.)

Kuboyasu was appraising his work. Kusuo’s heartbeat rose to his throat and his palms began to sweat. For whatever reason, his fight or flight had activated again. Kusuo was used to the low, continuous thrum of anxiety that clung to him wherever he went, even in his own home. 

…Maybe especially. 

But his nervous system was frayed right now. His adrenaline kept kicking in at random. It was, in short, good griefing frustrating. Kusuo fought the urge to scrub at his eyes or massage his temple and instead remained stock still, trying not to express the sheer discomfort darting through him like a spooked cat. 

There was probably no point to it; Kuboyasu would pick up on it in a few seconds. But the effort made Kusuo feel a little less helpless, if only for a second. 

Kuboyasu turned his head toward him. Kusuo tentatively met his eye, and felt his brows lower as a smile blossomed on the former punk’s face. “It’s pretty,” he praised. “Thank you for doing this for me.”

Ugh. Ugh. Good grief. Kusuo puckered his mouth slightly in sudden humiliation, feeling his face warm oddly. Words of approval didn’t usually affect him in any way. People weren’t usually in a position to give him praise like that. Not when he automatically did everything better than them with minimal effort. 

Something tightened in his stomach, like someone had tied a knot in there and started to tug. It made him feel nauseous and giddy, like- like…like something. He wasn’t sure. Kusuo didn’t know what this feeling was. 

Instead of ruminating on the foreign emotion anymore, he instead focused on glaring at the messy canvas. Kusuo raised a brow at the sight, still readily unimpressed. “That’s not the word I would use here,” he said flatly. 

Through his periphery, Kusuo watched Kuboyasu tilt his head. “I like it. The spontaneity of it, how many different colors there are…the way they mix together to create new ones.”

“Funny,” Kusuo said with bitter mirth. “That’s exactly why I don’t.”

Kuboyasu didn’t speak for a moment, eyes still scanning up and down the smeared, chaotic paint. Finally, he spoke up, saying, “We have different values, Saiki.”

Kuboyasu wasn’t facing him, but something in Kusuo still sparked with nerve-wracking vulnerability. He resisted the urge to cross his arms or tuck his knees up to his chest to safeguard against some perceived privacy violation. 

“If you gave these materials to a toddler you’d receive the same painting,” Kusuo pointed out, semi. “You’re just biased.”

“It’s more than that,” Kuboyasu insisted. When Kusuo turned to give him an unimpressed stare, he doubled down. “No, really! I’m not just saying that. Look, you did more than just slap a paintbrush around. The colors start off really bold here,” he explained, pointing at the center. “But then around the edges, the colors get softer, and the strokes become less violent.” His pointer finger traced the outside slowly, like he was running it under the words in a book. He let his hands drop into his lap, staring at the canvas with more conviction than someone not reading into it would have. 

It all came back to the fact that Kuboyasu had more personal weight in Kusuo’s situation than someone should. 

“There’s a story in this, Saiki,” he finally said, quiet and uncharacteristically melancholic. “You just need to be willing to read it.”

Kusuo still couldn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t want to. 

He turned away from it pointedly. Kuboyasu sighed, heavy and deep, and suddenly that feeling in Kusuo’s stomach from earlier became a lot more painful. He gritted his teeth against it, fought the urge to turn around and just agree with whatever the other boy said. 

He would have, if Kuboyasu pushed it. Kusuo would have crumbled so, so fast. 

But he didn’t. Kuboyasu sat there for a moment, staring, and said nothing. Quite literally watching the paint dry.

It was like that for a while. Kusuo listened to Kuboyasu’s vague, blue-tinged thoughts. His own face itched with his earlier tears. He knew he was being overly bitey. He hated it. Good grief, he hated it so much. But the part of Kusuo that had never truly learned to let go wanted him to claw and fight because if not-

He. Was…scared. Of suddenly being abandoned and having someone take his heart with them. Kusuo needed to be ready, needed to make sure it happened on his own terms. 

It might kill him otherwise. 

“Saiki, I-” Kuboyasu started, his voice deep and wavering slightly. “I don’t know what to do to make you hate yourself less.”

Kusuo let his eyes shut, squeezing them and trying not to tremble with the pain of it all. “You can’t.”

He couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t. 

“I know,” Kuboysu replied defeatedly. 

It was quiet for another minute. Kusuo stared ahead, feeling detached and heavy-limbed. Good grief, he was so exhausted. He just…wanted to sleep. Not forever. Just for a couple months. Maybe when he woke up, things would be manageable. 

The thought almost made him laugh. Kusuo’s lips twitched minutely. Fat fucking chance. His life would never be easy. It was just a consequence of being himself. Something had to balance out the sheer power he held, and that was through his being miserable. 

Kusuo’s teeth grinded as he attempted to stifle all of the horrid emotions roiling and thrashing inside of him. It was embarrassing and humiliating and generally all the things he usually tried to avoid. Good grief, Kusuo never should have let these people into his life. Especially this one. He’d been- well, not happier, but. 

He’d been less of an inconvenience. He could have just floated through life without having to acknowledge any of the mess that was his home life, and would have lived an unfulfilling life, possibly dying alone and quietly.

…When put that way, it didn’t sound too convincing. But that was the way Kusuo was taught it should be. Kusuke didn’t even have to be the one to tell him — even if he took great pleasure in doing so. Kusuo had already learned his lesson all the way back in first grade.

He ruined everything he let get close to his heart. 

And now, so many had barged their way in and nestled into its jagged crooks and edges that Kusuo didn’t know how he could survive without their presence.

“What are you thinking?” Kuboyasu asked steadily. 

Kusuo blinked, suddenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t been breathing. He looked up, perhaps a bit guilty, at the other boy, and tried to think of what to say. If he was even going to say anything.

A soft, sad sigh from next to him. Kusuo twitched at the unintended manipulation, then found himself staring dumbfoundedly at Kuboyasu’s direct attempt at manipulation. “Please? For me?” He begged softly, looking at him with those stupid, expressive and sincere eyes. Good grief, they practically fucking sparkled.

Maybe ‘attempt’ was the wrong word. That would imply it didn’t work on Kusuo. But dammit if his resolve didn’t just crumble away into dust.

Kusuo’s mouth was dry. 

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered. “Care about me. I’ve done things to deserve this, Kuboyasu-”

“This again?” Kuboyasu demanded. Part of Kusuo drew back warily at the obvious frustration. “Saiki, come on. I promise-”

“No,” Kusuo snapped. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, Kuboyasu.”

“You realize who you’re talking to, right? If anyone-”

“I’m not just anyone. I don’t think you realize just how far above you I am,” Kusuo hissed. 

Kuboyasu’s brows furrowed sharply, clearly taken aback at the wording. “Oh, my bad. I didn’t realize who I was talking to, huh?”

“Good grief, Kuboyasu, you’re not letting me speak.”

“Because it’s bullshit! Saiki, do you honestly believe-  wait, don’t answer that.” Kuboyasu scrubbed a hand over his face, everything about him screaming tension and stress. “Why? Why do you deserve it?”

“Because-”

Kusuo swallowed. Panted for a moment, then got himself under control again. “Because I hurt people,” he admitted, almost inaudibly. “I need to be punished properly because I’m too dangerous. If I’m not punished, I won’t learn to be better, how to control myself. I- I can kill people, Kuboyasu.”

Kuboyasu stared, his eyes boring into him, practically bleeding with sorrow. “So, what? You have to be fucking corrected like– like an animal?”

Kusuo couldn’t help it; he laughed, sharp and brittle. Then, he ducked his head, placing it into his hands and feeling his shoulders shake. “I’m a monster, Kuboyasu,” he mumbled into his palms.

The other boy was silent. Kusuo tried to ignore the way it rattled through him, echoing through him and making him realize just how empty he’d been for so long. 

Eventually, there was a soft brush against his palm. Kusuo didn’t look up, but didn’t fight the way the grip grew firmer, the fingers worming their way into Kusuo’s own unresponsive ones. Kuboyasu shifted closer. 

He was warm. Kusuo shuddered and tried not to curl up close. 

Those thick, calloused fingers squeezed down. Kusuo could barely feel it, but the intent behind it made him open his eyes, peeking through his own to stare at the other boy.

“Well, for what it's worth,” Kuboyasu said gruffly, like he was straining against his own feelings. “I love you. Even if you don’t.” 

Oh. 

Kusuo took a breath. 

Oh. Oh, oh, oh-

Why did those simple words make him feel like he’d just been gutted?

Kusuo sucked in another gasp of air, then snorted. The sound was slightly wet already. “I’m going to cry again,” he warned. “It’s gonna keep happening the more you keep pushing, Kuboyasu. I’m, I’m not…”

With the grip he had, Kuboyasu tugged him closer. Kusuo fell onto his chest and tensed up, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten almost painfully. 

“It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere, Kusuo,” Kuboyasu whispered, ducking down so his breath brushed Kusuo’s ear. 

Some part of him reared up in offense because- um, hello? Kusuo had never given him permission to use his given name?

But then, strong, firm arms were wrapping around him, and he was being cupped and held and treasured once more. Kusuo’s eyes welled up with a singular blink, and he realized that-

Maybe the guy he’d cried three separate times on deserved to be on a first name basis with him. 

“While the subject matter is a bit commonplace,” their art teacher told them a few days later, staring at the painting Aren held up. “The colors transform it, I feel. They seem to tell a story just by themselves. Tell me, how did you come up with the idea?”

Kusuo didn’t blush tellingly because he was far above that. He’d spent years learning to hide his reactions; one little question wasn’t going to make him stumble.

(Even if it was a bit of a close call.)

“Ah…” Aren floundered for a moment, then shrugged. The painting jumped with the movement, and Kusuo found himself blinking at it. The sheer visual loudness of it wasn’t very appealing to him, but somehow, the colors seemed to move right alongside Aren. How odd. “Took some inspo from Expressionism, you know?”

“Indeed,” the man agreed, raising a brow in approval. Right, Aren was a good griefing art nerd. Jeez. “The baby pink of the flower ties in the edges of the painting and contrasts the center. Is it in the process of wilting? These are the petals falling down, yes?”

“I mean, yeah,” Aren agreed awkwardly. “But, well. I kinda thought…”

A pause. “Go ahead,” their teacher encouraged, tilting his head. 

“In my head it was more like…” Aren floundered for a moment, then shrugged. “Time is being reversed on the flower. It’s not wilting anymore, it’s becoming whole again. It just-”

Their eyes met for a split second. Kusuo’s heart pounded for reasons he couldn’t say. “It just needed a bit of help to get there,” Aren finished, smiling crookedly. 

Careful, boy. You’re not as subtle as you like to think. 

The man smiled approvingly. “Very good, you two.” He looked down at their rubric, checked off the final box, and handed each of them a copy. “Hundred for both of you. I look forward to seeing any more potential collaborations from you two, boys.”

Haha. Ha. Fat fucking chance. Kusuo would use mind control to put an end to that before he ever, and does he mean ever, did something like this again.

Aren grinned down at him like he could hear Kusuo’s thoughts. Kusuo raised a brow in return, and they went back to their seats together. Kusuo, for all his fronting, was suspiciously light, like some sort of heavy weight had finally been lifted off of him. 

There it was again. That approval he shouldn’t need. 

Aren looked down at the painting again, admiring it. Kusuo couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I still don’t like it,” he said, perhaps a bit churlishly. 

Aren looked up at him and smiled, warm and affectionate…loving. Like he was staring at a friend. “That’s okay,” he said gently. “You will one day. You just need time to learn.”

Time…

Yes. None of Kusuo’s people were leaving anytime soon, and especially not this one. He- 

There was enough time for him to bloom again.