Chapter Text
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹
The students at Jujutsu University don't utilize peer tutoring like they should.
Which is fine with you, because it means interrupted homework time a few afternoons a week where you're also getting paid for work study time. You're in your junior year of an English degree, neck-deep in assignments and books and essays and analyses every second you're not asleep. It's fine with you; you don't have many things to do outside of it, anyway.
It's a rainy fall Monday as you're settled at a library table, your tutoring open sign up, but nobody's taken you up on it yet. That's fine; your entire half of the table is covered in your shit as you chip away at your mound of homework assignments. The gentle pattern of the drops on the window is comforting to you—so much so, in fact, you've put your headphones aside to listen to the weather instead. It mixes with only the soft clacking of your keyboard and the rustles of your paper notes as you shove your glasses back onto your nose and go back to work. You've only got 20 minutes left anyway. Nobody will show up in that time.
Someone clears their throat loudly at the other end of the table, making your head snap up in alarm as you slowly process its directed towards you. You can feel the color drain from your face when you see the mass of muscle and intimidation that makes up Ryomen Sukuna, towering at the end of the wooden library table. You have to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze, your eyes roving past his beefy arms crossed over his chest, then scanning his facial features quickly—strong jaw, slanted eyes, mussed salmon-colored hair. This is a hot man in front of you, who everyone on campus knows, who cycles through women in the rare time he's not training or playing in his respective sports. He's not in any of your classes; you're pretty sure he's a phys ed major.
Quickly, you straighten your spine, lifting yourself away from the sprawled position you'd been in on the table. You raise your eyebrows at him, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile onto your mouth as you blink at him. "Hi."
Sukuna grunts—apparently his idea of a greeting. His tongue works at the inside of his cheek, the weight of his gaze heavy as he takes you in for a silent moment. When he does talk, his voice is so deep it sends goosebumps skittering down your spine.
"You tutor comp?"
"Yeah," you answer, tone friendly as you push your sagging glasses up your nose and tuck your hair behind your ear. "What's up?"
Sukuna blinks slowly, crimson-tinged irises jarring. "Have a paper."
Right…you figured that.
You shift in your seat, beginning to push your scattered belongings into a slightly more structured state as you nod. "Sure. What do you need?" You try not to let your voice waver, but your cheeks are a little warm anyway as you force yourself to meet his gaze, gesturing to the seat in front of him. "Go ahead and sit."
The sheer amount of space this man takes up has you actively trying not to balk. Ryomen's eyes scan you warily, like you're going to jump him or something, as he thuds down into the chair. His backpack thunks on the table as he sets it down, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he pulls out his own laptop. The scrutiny makes you squirm in your seat, tugging the hem of your sweater down nervously before adjusting your glasses again. You offer your name to him. "It's nice to meet you."
He grunts in response. "Sukuna."
Of course you know that, but you nod like you don't and supply another friendly grin. "What's the paper for?"
Ryomen scowls, leaning onto one forearm as his other hand clicks at his laptop. "Some narrative bullshit."
Your eye twitches involuntarily at the short answers he's giving you. Luckily, you're friendly to a fault, so this presents more as an interesting challenge than anything. Even though you get self-conscious around strong, popular, hot men, you don't get self-conscious enough to try to impress them. They never look at you as a prospect, so you don't worry about being one. You just be yourself and move on.
You give him a smile, contrasting his scowling nature, and nod. "You mean a personal narrative?"
"I guess." He turns his laptop to face you, and you push your glasses up your nose as you lean forward to read it, squinting slightly at the light. You try not to think about his eyes on you, heavy and regarding, and end up having to read the paragraph a few extra times to really digest the information. It's a fairly basic personal narrative paper.
You sit back in your chair with a nod. "Okay. What exactly do you need help with?"
Sukuna's eyes narrow just a fraction at you, and you actively try not to shrink from it. "I need to write it."
You pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a slow nod, trying not to laugh at him. You know you should probably be scared, like everyone else is, but it's just amusing to you how hard he's trying to be cool while talking about a comp assignment.
"Right," you say slowly, turning his laptop back towards him. "Do you know what you'll write about yet?"
One blink. "No."
"Great." You swallow down another laugh and try to keep your face serious as you nod. "We'll start there. Do you have any ideas?"
Ryomen huffs, his nostrils flaring slightly as his eyes flicker down to his laptop screen. The chair groans under him as he leans his broad frame back against it, entirely too big for the chair itself, his beefy arms crossing over his equally thick chest. "I don't talk about personal shit. Don't get why we gotta write a damn essay about it."
"Yeah, I get that," you say. You mirror his position, leaning back in your own chair and folding your hands in your lap with another friendly smile. "Is there anything that comes to mind? Something big that's happened in your life that you could talk about for an entire paper?"
The rain on the window seems to patter louder as you wait for his answer. You shift in your seat again, tugging your hair over one shoulder in a distracted motion as you wait, trying not to stare at him. But it's hard when he's so…there. It's even harder when he won't stop surveying you when you aren't even doing anything.
Ryomen pulls his eyes away only long enough to glance around the library, but it's nearly empty, and there's nobody in your immediate vicinity. The chair creaks again as he leans forward onto his crossed forearms, gaze locked on something past you.
You wait patiently. You've tutored for long enough that you're used to people needing time. After a minute passes of him barely moving, staring off into space, you realize you may need to give a nudge.
"Maybe there's an experience with your family that was hard?" you prod, your voice raising at the end in a question.
His eyes flicker to you, but no other part of him moves, including his mouth, which stays firmly shut. Only the ripple of his cheek where he runs his tongue over his teeth comes across his face as you hold eye contact.
You blink at him.
He blinks back.
Just as you're about to open your mouth again and try something else, he grinds out a response. "Y'can't tell anyone."
"Oh," you respond before you can think of something smarter to say. "Um, okay. I won't."
Another few beats of silence as he peers at you and lets another huff out of his nose. "Could write about my nephew."
"Great!" you say encouragingly, offering him another friendly smile. You lean forward onto the table, your own forearms crossing in front of you. "What about him?"
Sukuna sucks his teeth, leaning back again and running a large, inked hand through his hair as he avoids your eyes again. "Lives with me."
Your eyebrows twitch in surprise at the information that is opposite of everything you would assume about him. "That's…yeah, that's a great start. You could talk about how that happened and how it's affected your college experience, maybe?"
This seems to make sense to him. He nods slowly, chin lifting as he regards you. "Yeah."
"Okay, so now that you have your topic, we need to figure out kind of sub-topics to write with." Your hands wave as you talk, somewhat out of nerves, but this always happens when you go on a rant, especially about writing and grammar and everything nerdy. Ryomen seems to be listening, though, as you explain how to start his outline. Then, because you're curious, you ask him, "How old is your nephew?"
Sukuna's eyes stay on his screen. "He's five."
Your face does the obligatory awe, a little kid face, your bottom lip puffing out as your eyes widen a little.
His eyebrow quirks at your face as he crosses his arms again, but the edge of his lips jump just slightly, which makes your heart do a flip you ignore. You clear your throat, adjusting your glasses and brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face as you nod. "Okay, it might help if you just tell me kind of the situation. That way you can vocalize it and I can listen to see if there are any specific points you could put in."
Clearly Sukuna is uncomfortable with this as he shifts again, arms untangling from his chest to stretch behind his head, locking his fingers. He huffs softly as he stares at his laptop instead of at you as he speaks quietly.
"Uhh…my brother died last year. Freak accident. His little brat got stuck with me."
He stops.
After a minute of silence, realize that's the whole story and blink, taking in a breath as you try to keep your voice light, although you're starting to realize this may be more of a challenge than you're qualified for. "I'm really sorry about your brother."
"Yeah. S'over now."
His voice raises an invisible wall that you feel pressing back against your words, so you shift back to the topic of the paper. "I would maybe start with a little paragraph about how your life was with your brother and his son, then go into"—you pause, carefully evaluating his trained face—"what happened…and then, about how that affects your life now in college. Does that make sense?"
You're relieved when he nods, seeming not to be upset with you about how you phrased it. Sukuna leans forward towards his laptop again, his thick fingers clacking on the keys as he mumbles. "Lemme write that down."
"Sure." You let your gaze drift out the window again, noticing the rain has slowed to a quieter, slower pace as drops race down the window pane. The draft from the window is surprisingly prevalent as you shiver slightly.
You hear a chair being pushed back, and you look to see Sukuna pushing himself to his feet as he shoves his laptop back into his backpack. You blink in surprise. "Are you done?"
"Work on it later. Gotta get the kid from school." He tucks the chair back in with one arm as his backpack slings over the other shoulder.
Your chest pangs with softness at his admission. You have a million questions for him about his nephew and the situation, but you've just met this person. You're afraid you'll scare him off if you ask.
So you just offer him a smile. "Okay. Well, thanks for coming by."
Ryomen gives you a little bit of a strange look that you can't discern before a curt nod. "You here every day?"
"Usually Monday Wednesday Fridays," you answer.
He grunts. "Same time?"
You nod. "Yep."
He nods, and without another word, steps away. You watch his broad back as it retreats away from you and out of the library door. From through the glass you see him yank his hoodie up over his pink-ish hair before disappearing from sight down the stairs.
You watch after him for a minute, exhaling softly out of your mouth. That was…oddly nerve wracking. And it sounds like he'll be back.
You're not sure how to feel about that.
⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹