Unpredictable (Saiki Kusuo X Reader)

Seven

Warnings: language, angst, abuse/neglect/flashback mention, panic attack mention, anxiety/panic mention

Sunlight filters through the curtains in the room, signaling that it's now morning. You can feel yourself starting to wake up, but you desperately try to cling onto sleep for just a little longer. You're still trying to figure out if Saiki really came into your room last night or if you just fabricated the whole thing, and you know that as soon as you fully wake up, you'll have no choice but to deal with it.

You try to force yourself to fall back asleep, but to no avail. With a heavy sigh, you slowly sit up in bed, rubbing your weary eyes. Looking around, your eyes land on a familiar water bottle sitting near the desk. As you start to register this, you subconsciously squeeze your blanket. When you look down at where you're holding it, you realize that it's the blanket Saiki brought for you. So it really did happen. Running a hand over your face you let out another sigh; you really do not want to deal with this right now.

Resolving to figure this all out after you eat some breakfast, you swing your feet off the bed and look at the clock. It's only about 6am. Good. Nobody else should be awake right now. You can quickly grab something to eat and then leave before anyone notices you're gone. Although you feel a little guilty at the prospect of taking food and leaving without saying anything, you've already decided that it's for the best.

Tiptoeing to the door, you open it as silently as possible. Before you poke your head out, you listen, extra close this time; you don't want to risk running into Saiki again. When you don't hear anything, you peek around the frame and to your relief, nobody is in sight. You take this opportunity to make your way to the kitchen. You arrive at your intended destination with no hitches, thankfully.

You open the cabinet and look around for something small. You don't want to take anything too big and cause a problem. When your eyes land on a container that looks to be filled with potato chips, you smile. This is perfect. You'll only take a handful and put back the rest. You reach for the small can and take a few chips out, returning the rest of the snack to its rightful place on the shelf. You start to munch on the food, ready to head out, when you realize something. You left your bags upstairs. Cursing to yourself, you shove the remaining chips in your mouth before heading back upstairs. After gathering your belongings, you return to the kitchen area, making sure that you didn't leave a mess. With a satisfied smile, you start towards the door, only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

Where are you going?

This stops you dead in your tracks, your face heating in embarrassment. You are too ashamed to turn around and face him; no stranger has ever witnessed you have a panic attack like that before. You decide that maybe if you just ignore him, he'll let you go peacefully.

You speed up your pace and reach the door. Grabbing the handle, you twist it and pull open the door, only to have it slam shut. You can feel his presence behind you and you start to tremble, afraid to face him. But what he says next surprises you more than anything he's said to you so far.

Why won't you ever let anybody help you? His usually impassive voice is filled with such emotion, and you are taken aback. You turn to face him and find that he is farther away than you sensed, but the look on his face is what you are more focused on. Outwardly, he seems livid but you know better. You can sense that he's hiding something. You look away, unable to hold his gaze, suddenly feeling guilty. The feeling doesn't last long though, and is soon replaced by one of indignation.

"I don't need your pity," you spit, still unwilling to look him in the eye. You can feel that tears are starting to form again, but you defiantly choke them back.

You don't have to battle this alone. His tone is seething with fury, but you can feel there is a hint of sadness in his voice.

"What do you know about my battle?" You bite back, unable to hold in your anger. "You know absolutely nothing about me. If you knew who I really was, you wouldn't be so willing to offer your help. I've done things... horrible things. I'm not a good person and the sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be," you can feel the tears pooling in your eyes; you need to get out of here before you break down again. You turn around and open the door, ready to get the hell out of there. Before you go, you say one last thing.