Sukuna Ryomen

Sukuna didn't care, to say the least. In fact, he was ready to walk all over you and spit at you a few times, throw something too offensive, something pretty cool at your back and laugh. His gang noticed, his friends knew, pretty much the entire school knew that you weren't the type to hang out with unless they wanted to be under Sukuna's terrifying, piercing gaze.

Of course, that was fine with him. He loved the way you trembled, the way you fiddled with the hem of your sweater in fear, and the way you kept looking away when he grabbed your chin. He loved the way you dug your nails into your palms, leaving red marks on your pale skin, and the way you flinched at every sudden sound. He loved scaring you. He loved the way tears welled up in your eyes every time he patted you on the shoulder, unexpectedly. He liked the way your eyes darted around, as if trying to distract themselves. He liked the way you avoided people. You were funny, even when you couldn't communicate with anyone, even with teachers. You were weird, passive, you didn't seem to understand much, both in school and in society, you didn't even smile when something good happened.

It was all terribly funny, the fact that you were so different from everyone else gave him even more reasons to despise you and constantly scare you. At least for now, I guess? People like him don't change, but time went on, classes changed, people matured and became quieter. He started to pay attention to you. Sukuna kept making jokes and scaring you, but he didn't let others do the same. No, of course, he allowed other classmates to make fun of you, but not as often as he once did, just a few years ago, under the pretext of: “I’m in the mood to make fun of her a little more today. Don’t bother me.” And at such moments, your life surprisingly became calm, quiet. Classmates turned away from you, no one cast mocking, angry glances at you or came up with a new offensive joke. You still didn’t understand why, why they suddenly became quieter, why Sukuna stopped making fun of you on some random day and how it happened. Your diagnosis? No. Since you knew for sure that even the teachers didn’t know about your autism diagnosis, you made sure that even your parents didn’t know about it, you were sure that Sukuna would in any case not care at all how you felt and what disappointing diagnoses the new psychologist recently gave you. It was gloomy under your thoughts. It was eerily quiet and deserted, you were sitting in an empty classroom when the rest of your classmates had gone to lunch. You were writing something in your notebook and listening to something on your headphones, trying to distract yourself from the bustle of the classroom and the harsh rays of the annoying sun.

"Hey, nerd." Your silence is broken by a deep male voice, whose hand immediately slaps you on the back of the head. "Do my homework for me. You have half an hour." He says it rudely, clearly not paying attention to you and turns around to leave right away. Of course, the desire to catch up with him, to hit him back and strike back painfully overwhelmed, threatening to fall like a strong hail, but who were you, and who was Sukuna...?