Break time finally arrived, and everyone was buzzing with their plans to hit the café like they always did. Gojo was already halfway out the door, rambling about some new dessert he wanted to try, while Geto gave me a lingering look, as if he could sense something wasn't right.

"You coming with us, Y/N?" Gojo called out, pausing just long enough to shoot me a grin. "You need to see this cake—it's like, legendary."

I shook my head, mustering a weak smile. "Nah, I think I'm gonna sit this one out. I'm not really hungry."

Gojo raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "You? Not hungry? Are you sick or something?"

I forced a laugh. "I'll survive, Gojo. Just not feeling it today."

Geto gave me a longer look, his brows creasing just slightly. It was subtle, but I could tell he was worried. He didn't say anything, though. He wasn't the type to pry, but he noticed things.

"If you change your mind, you know where we are," he said softly before he and Gojo headed out.

The moment they left, I felt the tension in my chest loosen just a bit. I didn't need to be around them right now. I didn't need them asking questions or noticing the cracks in my facade. All I wanted was a moment to myself, somewhere I could catch my breath.

::.............................................::

I decided to head to the restroom. Maybe I could splash some water on my face, try to feel halfway normal again. As I walked down the empty corridor, my mind was still swirling with everything. Shimizu. The bruises. The look Sukuna had given me in class.

But before I could even make it to the door, I felt a sharp yank on my arm, pulling me into the shadows of a deserted hallway. I barely had time to register what was happening before I was shoved roughly against the wall, my back colliding with the cold surface.

"What the fu—" I started, but the words died in my throat when I saw who it was.

Sukuna.

He stood there, towering over me, his hand still gripping my arm, his eyes boring into mine with that same unreadable intensity from class. But this time, there was something darker in his gaze, something more dangerous. He wasn't just looking at me—he was studying me, like he was trying to peel back every layer and see what was underneath.

"What the fuck do you want, Sukuna?" I snapped, yanking my arm out of his grip. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel the adrenaline surging through me. I wasn't going to let him corner me like this. Not after everything.

He didn't respond right away. He just stood there, his eyes roaming over me in a way that made my skin crawl. I hated it. I hated the way he could make me feel so vulnerable with just a look.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "Why are you wearing so much shit?" His voice was low, almost mocking. "Covering yourself up like that. It's not your style."

I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. What?

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I spat, trying to push past the confusion. "I wear what I want, not that it's any of your business."

He didn't move, didn't react to my outburst. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as they scanned me from head to toe. "You're hiding something," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "Why?"

My heart skipped a beat, panic surging through me. How the fuck did he know? My clothes—my long sleeves, my high collar—they were meant to cover the bruises. To keep anyone from asking questions. But Sukuna... he was looking right through me, like he could see everything I was trying so hard to hide.

"I'm not hiding shit," I snapped, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Back the fuck off."

He didn't back off. Instead, he moved even closer, his body trapping mine against the wall. I could feel the heat radiating off him, and his scent—sharp and intoxicating—filled my senses. It was suffocating.

"Bullshit," he said, his voice a low growl now. "I know when you're lying."

His eyes flicked to the collar of my shirt, then down to my sleeves, and I could see the gears turning in his head. He knew. He fucking knew.

My breath hitched, and I felt the sting of tears threatening to surface. But I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. I wouldn't break in front of him. I wouldn't let him see how fucked up everything was.

I glared up at him, my voice trembling with anger. "Get the fuck away from me, Sukuna. You don't know shit."

He smirked, that devilish grin spreading across his face. "Don't I?"

There it was again—that mocking tone. That cruel, amused edge that always made my blood boil. He was playing with me, enjoying how much he was getting under my skin.

"Why do you care?" I shot back, my voice laced with venom. "Why the fuck do you care what I wear or what I do? What's your fucking problem?"

His eyes darkened, the amusement in them fading as something else took its place. His smirk disappeared, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his gaze—something almost... conflicted. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by that cold, unreadable mask.

"Maybe I don't," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Maybe I just like fucking with you."

I clenched my fists at my sides, my whole body trembling with rage. He was playing his games again, pushing my buttons just to see how far I'd go.

"Go to hell, Sukuna," I spat, my voice shaking. "You're fucking pathetic."

He didn't react to the insult. Instead, he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against my ear. "And yet," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "you keep letting me."

My heart pounded in my chest, my pulse racing as his words sunk in. I hated him. I hated him. But he was right. No matter how much I tried to fight it, no matter how much I tried to distance myself from him, I always ended up right back here—cornered by him, pushed to the edge, unable to escape his grasp.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with the effort of holding back my emotions. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't cry. Not in front of him. Not ever.

Sukuna pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine once more. "You're hiding something," he said again, his voice colder now. "And I'm going to figure out what it is."

With that, he stepped away from me, the weight of his presence lifting just enough for me to breathe again. But even as he moved away, I could still feel the intensity of his gaze, like he was leaving invisible marks on my skin.

"Fuck you," I muttered under my breath as he walked away, my hands trembling at my sides.

But even as I cursed him, even as I told myself I hated him more than anything in this world, a part of me couldn't shake the fear—the fear that he'd already figured out too much. That he would figure out the rest.

And what the hell would I do then?

::.............................................::

As Sukuna turned to leave, I felt the exhaustion slam into me like a freight train. The hunger gnawing at my insides had been festering all day, but I'd tried to ignore it, tried to push it aside like everything else in my life lately. Shimizu had taken away my fucking credit cards, locking me in this hell of "clean eating"—as if eating an apple or a fucking orange was enough to survive on.

My vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges of my eyes. My knees wobbled, threatening to give out, but I forced myself to stay upright. Sukuna couldn't see me like this. He couldn't.

But my body had other plans.

One step, then another. My legs felt like lead, dragging me down, the hallway tilting around me. The sound of my own heartbeat thudded in my ears, loud and frantic, and I could feel the sweat beading on my skin despite the cool air.

I barely registered Sukuna turning back toward me, his brow furrowing in confusion as I staggered.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I heard him say, but his voice was muffled, distant, like he was speaking through a wall of static.

I opened my mouth to say something, to tell him to leave me the hell alone, but the words wouldn't come. My throat was dry, my tongue heavy, and my vision was narrowing into a tunnel. The ground beneath me seemed to sway, and suddenly, everything just... caved in.

My knees buckled, and the world went dark.

::.............................................::

There was nothing. No sound, no light, just an overwhelming blackness. But somewhere, distant and far away, I could hear a voice. Faint, almost like a whisper.

"Y/N...?"

It was barely a murmur, muffled and distorted, but I could feel it tugging at the edges of my consciousness, pulling me back to reality. My body felt weightless, as if I were floating in an endless void, but that voice—it anchored me, dragging me closer and closer to waking.

"Oi. Y/N. Wake the fuck up."

The voice was clearer now, sharper. A little rough around the edges, impatient and irritated. And then I recognized it. Sukuna.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, or at least I thought I did, though I wasn't sure if any sound actually left my lips. My head was spinning, my body heavy and unresponsive.

The voice came again, more urgent this time. "Fucking hell, don't pass out on me now. Wake the fuck up."

I didn't want to open my eyes. Part of me hoped I could just stay in this empty, numb place where nothing hurt and I didn't have to deal with anything. But Sukuna's voice kept pulling me back, like a goddamn magnet, forcing me to surface from the depths of unconsciousness.

I groaned, my eyelids fluttering open just a crack. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway stabbed at my eyes, making me wince. My head was pounding, and my entire body felt like it had been run over by a truck.

I blinked slowly, trying to focus, and then I saw him. Sukuna. Standing over me with that infuriating look of irritation mixed with something else—something I couldn't quite place. Concern? No, that wasn't it. He didn't give a shit about me, right?

I tried to push myself up, but my arms felt like jelly, and my stomach gave an angry lurch, reminding me of just how fucking hungry I was. I hadn't eaten anything substantial in god knows how long. And the one apple Shimizu had let me eat last night sure as hell wasn't enough to keep me going.

"Fucking... asshole," I mumbled, my voice barely more than a raspy breath.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. "You're the one passing out like a weakling, and I'm the asshole?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "You look like shit, Y/N. What the fuck is going on with you?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat was dry, my lips cracked, and the sheer exhaustion pulling me under made it impossible to form a coherent response.

Sukuna crouched down next to me, his eyes narrowing as he scanned my face. I tried to turn my head away, not wanting him to see just how fucked up I really was, but I was too weak to even do that.

"Is this why you're dressed like a nun all of a sudden?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the haze clouding my brain. "You're starving yourself or some shit? Is this some kind of new shit girls do to lose weight or shit? What, your perfect little life isn't so fucking perfect anymore?"

I glared at him, or at least I tried to. It was hard to muster up any real anger when my entire body felt like it was about to give out.

"I'm... fine," I rasped, my voice barely audible.

He snorted, clearly not buying it. "Yeah, sure. You're fine. That's why you're collapsing in hallways like a fucking drama queen."

I wanted to punch him. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, to leave me alone, but I didn't have the strength. And deep down, a part of me knew that he wasn't entirely wrong. I wasn't fine. I hadn't been fine in a long time, and now everything was crashing down around me.

::.............................................::

Sukuna stood up, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at me with a mixture of frustration and something else—something almost like... worry? No, that couldn't be right. He didn't worry about people. He didn't give a fuck.

But as I lay there, struggling to even breathe properly, I thought I saw a flicker of something in his eyes. A flash of concern that was gone almost as quickly as it had appeared.

"Stay here," he muttered under his breath, before turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

I didn't have the energy to follow him, to ask where the hell he was going. All I could do was lie there, my body trembling from exhaustion and hunger, my mind reeling from the weight of everything.

And then, as the darkness threatened to swallow me again, I heard that distant voice once more, echoing in my mind.

"Y/N... wake the fuck up."

But this time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to.

::.............................................::

Sukuna's POV:

I left her for two fucking minutes.

That's all it took—two damn minutes to grab a bottle of water, and when I came back, she was out cold, slumped like a fucking ragdoll. I'd seen her wavering before, but I didn't think she'd actually collapse.

Shit.

I crouched down next to her, shaking her a bit by the shoulders. 

"Oi, Y/N, what the fuck? Wake up." My voice came out rougher than I intended, but I didn't exactly have time to be gentle. I gave her a firmer shake, then tapped her face lightly. 

"Wake the fuck up. Stop being dramatic."

Nothing. Her eyes were shut, breathing shallow, and her skin felt way too cold for comfort. 

What the hell happened to her?

I muttered a string of curses under my breath, and before I even thought about it, I slipped one arm under her back, the other under her knees, and lifted her up. She was lighter than I expected, almost too light, like she haven't been eating

As I stood, her dress shifted, sliding up her legs a little. At first, I didn't think anything of it, but then my eyes caught something.

Bruises.

Ugly, purplish marks staining her thighs, deep and fresh. My breath hitched in my throat. 

What the actual fuck?

I stared at them for a second, my mind scrambling to make sense of it. Bruises like that don't just appear out of nowhere. Someone had to put them there. Someone had to fucking hit her.

My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding together so hard it hurt. A million thoughts raced through my head, but none of them were any good. I wanted answers, but how the hell was I supposed to get them when she was passed out in my arms?

Who the fuck did this to her?

The thought gnawed at me as I carried her down the hallway, my steps faster now, more purposeful. The infirmary wasn't far, but it felt like it was taking forever. Every step I took, the bruises replayed in my mind, over and over, like some fucked-up loop I couldn't escape.

Then it hit me. The guy from her house. That piece of shit standing in her living room yesterday. Was it him? Did he do this?

A surge of anger flooded through me, boiling up from somewhere deep inside. I was pissed, not just at the possibility that some asshole had hurt her, but at myself. For leaving her. For walking away yesterday and not sticking around long enough to find out what was really going on.

I wanted to punch something, maybe even go back to that guy's house and beat the shit out of him for good measure, but I gritted my teeth and pushed the thought aside. That wouldn't help her right now. Not when she was in this state.

But damn it, why the fuck didn't she say something? Why didn't she ask for help? I wasn't exactly known for being the "good guy," but if she was in that kind of trouble, she could've fucking told me.

Instead, she just let it happen. Let it get to this point. And I'd been too wrapped up in my own bullshit to notice.

The memory of how I treated her yesterday made me grit my teeth even harder. I'd mocked her yesterday, and today I cornered her, taunted her for wearing clothes that covered too much. All the while, she was probably hiding those bruises, suffering in silence while I acted like a complete asshole. I'd thought it was funny, watching her squirm, but now... Now, I just felt like a fucking idiot.

I sped up, practically storming toward the infirmary, my grip on her tightening without meaning to. This was all so fucked up.

::.............................................::

When I finally reached the infirmary, I kicked the door open with my foot and laid her down on one of the beds, trying to be as careful as I could. The nurse, an older lady who looked like she had zero patience for my shit, rushed over immediately.

"She fainted," I barked, not bothering with pleasantries. "Check her or whatever the fuck it is you do."

The nurse, clearly startled by my tone, hurried over to examine her, checking her pulse, her breathing, doing all the shit medical people do. I stood back, arms crossed, watching Y/N's pale, tired face. She had dark circles under her eyes—darker than I'd noticed before. How the fuck did she get like this in one night? The bruises, the fatigue, the way she fucking passed out in front of me... It all didn't add up.

The nurse said something about her needing rest, some food, and hydration. Typical shit. But it wasn't enough. There was something deeper going on, something that didn't have a simple fix like food and sleep. Something was fucking with her, and I had a pretty good idea what—or rather, who—it was.

I clenched my fists, my mind still racing. That bastard. I should've known the moment I saw him. Something about the way he looked at her, the way she seemed to shrink in his presence... it all came rushing back now.

I had to do something.

As I left the infirmary, I was already plotting. Thinking of how I'd get to the bottom of this, how I'd find out what was really going on with her. And when I did, I'd deal with it. One way or another.

Because there was no way in hell I was going to let this shit slide.

Not anymore.

::.............................................::

Hey Guyz!! How are you my lovelies?

Oka so here is another chapter. I  hope you enjoy it. I would really appreciate if  you guyz would let me know about your thoughts. I love it.

Also I m so so so so so sorry about the late update guyz. I will really try to update faster. thanks for all your patience.

Anyways, Enjoy the story.

Till then.

See you again soon.