𝚄𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚊 • 𝙳𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚊 || Saiki Kusuo

•cherophobia•

“You know very well why I’m here.” Kusuo claimed, gaze piercing as he remained still in place, taking dominance at the moment. Exasperation was visible from his tone -- tired of having to see her act like nothing had ever happened every single time. “Stop playing games with me, (Y/N). Why were you avoiding me?”

“I don't want to hear that from you of all people.” She scoffed, brows meeting halfway as she tilted her head to the side, refusing to meet his gaze. “You’re always the one finding ways to turn away from my direct approaches.”

“Is this about th–“

“Yes!” Kusuo almost flinched at her tone, finding it foreign to see such a carefree girl like (Y/N) almost lashing out. Perhaps it was due to the heat of the moment, resulting to her emotions blocking the logical signals sent by her brain. “It’s that easy to say yes or no, you hot-and-cold twat. Just answer me already. I'm always forced to act like nothing happened for you, because if not, you would avoid any contact with me for days!”

The pink-haired boy’s gaze gleamed with a flash of unfathomable sentiment at her words, pressing his lips into a thin line. Among the mixed emotions he was currently holding, one was apparent -- guilt. “If that’s the case, can you answer me honestly first?” He muttered his choice of words softly, barely audible. “When we first met,

“Did you mean that confession?”

“No.” 

Gently, he loosened his hold, allowing the (h/c)-haired girl escape from the uncomfortable position. Heaving out a sigh, Kusuo sat in a frog-like position before lifting his gaze to stare at her companion sitting up in a crisscross position on her soft cushions.

“I was just joking around that time.” Her confession left a swirl of disappointment and disorder in the pink-haired boy’s heart. “I cannot help it actually; you just seemed so similar with him.” She fidgets with the soft sheets of her bed, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”

“Then, what’s the point of responding to your stupid jokes.” Kusuo’s reply came as hardhearted and out of instinct. His brash words had shocked him, mentally scolding himself right after or acting like an emotional brat.

“I wouldn’t mind you ignoring that one.” With a smile edging up her lips, she lifted her gaze, locking it with the teen before him. “But, please don’t ignore the other ones.

“What I said when we were out buying gifts for your parents was true. And, all the rest of those confessions, I really did mean those. Those Valentine's chocolates, I did my best to make them, especially the ones I left in your locker; I even stayed up late for them.” Hearing her almost choke at her words gritted his ears from its acrid truth, seeing her unshed tears filling up a sea on her heart.

From the twinkle of her forlorn gaze, the young psychic could discern a gleam seeking for answers – answers for her persistent queries.

Answers from his hot-and-cold hints.

“Kusuo.” (Y/N)’s (e/c) pools clashed with his purple ones, locking themselves together in a silent conversation. She lets her lips curl up into a smile, one that reminded him of four days ago.  “I’m an idiot. I… I always have.” Clear beads of liquid were dripping down from her chin, hitting the fabric of her cotton shorts. “Please… just make it clear already. Please. Nothing will make sense to this dumb brain of mine unless you tell.”

It was never a comforting sight to see – witnessing a person you have known dearly cry before your eyes. The apathetic boy he was, Kusuo was at a loss on what to do in this type of situation. Yet, he could feel his heart bleeding as it was churned with a tight rope of guilt at the sight of her salty tears.

"I don't want to make the same mistake again. I don't like being left behind all the time." Her sobs were similar to sharp knives, piercing his heart. Her arms made a futile effort to wipe away the drizzle her eyes had been dripping. "Please don't be like them. Please tell me you meant those actions. Please don't leave me just after that fleeting moment of happiness."

The least he could do was to mutter a few comforts to alleviate the pain in her heart, the liquids from her eyes had been speaking for her. But, Kusuo was never good with words. That was why he would always let his actions do the speaking. He feared his dishonest tongue could harm her, especially in such a crucial moment where he could basically see her shattering.

Actions can speak louder than words, but all at the same time it can be quite confusing, misleading. That was why language is an art – an art which could snap you out of confusion with its direct messages.

Gently, Kusuo shifts his weight to sit beside her profile, wrapping his arms on her shaky form before lending his chest for her to borrow. He couldn’t mind his crisp shirt getting wrinkled by her tight grip, nor the stains her tears had left. All that occupied his thoughts was her state of aquiver.

Fragmenting before him was a heart made out of glass, overflowing with emotions he was never aware of – and pain he much more than from his fault, pain from stories he wish he could read.

A whole hour – that was what it took for her to finally calm down, along with Kusuo’s silent presence and hand rubbing comfort behind her back. And, by that time, her soft sobs had been replaced with the placid breathing of her slumbering form. It couldn’t be more painful for him, especially taking in how he was an accomplice of her bottled up pain.

Tucking her in her bed, Kusuo brushes his fingers through her messy (h/c) tresses, noting how sweat was sticking on her forehead. Pursing his thin lips into a firm line, he decides to help out in the smallest way he can by tidying up her room – not much a difficult feat with the assistance of his psychic powers. In a mere fifteen minutes, he had managed to leave the room spotless – feeding Fredric as his final task.

With a burdened heart, he left one chaste kiss on her forehead before taking his leave.

Amid the scene of her tears flowing down her cheeks replaying on his mind over and over like a broken record, Kusuo found himself twisting and turning in bed under his sleepless night – frustration and remorse, fuelling him much more than any strong coffee. Bringing an arm to cover his magenta hues, shielding him from the view of the familiar ceiling of his bedroom, he clenched his jaw at the churning feeling of her visible pain.

The way he felt completely helpless left a bitter aftertaste in his insides, frustrated that even though bestowed with immeasurable abilities, he was at a loss on what to do. He regretted turning away from those countless opportunities -- it felt pathetic.

This time however, he wouldn’t be turning his back. Step-by-step, not minding how he could be hurt by picking up the broken pieces of her person, he will be putting her back together.

"(Y/N), please..."

   

A/N: yeah i actually had second thoughts publishing this chapter. writing anything dramatic or hopefully tear-jerking isn't exactly my forte so i hope i actually did a decent job :>>

i accept criticism so i would actually like your thoughts on how it went owo