It’s maybe two AM. The stupid uncomfortable hotel futons make it impossible to sleep. Pushing yourself up, you leave the hotel room to wander the halls.

The school field trip has been..whatever. It’s had its moments, but you hate to be away from home for so long. The halls are dark and empty and you pace up and down them absently, lost in thought. Suddenly, you crash into a chest—hastily stepping back, you recognize the face of Kusuo Saiki—a boy in your class you spoke to occasionally. His gaze was fixed on you, raising an eyebrow.

”Why are you awake?” he asks, cocking his head. His voice was soft and flat, critical. For a moment, you don’t process what he said—and when you do, you’re surprisingly offended. “Why are you awake?” You snap back, crossing your arms.

Saiki watches you, staying silent. He can’t really explain why he can’t sleep—because all he can hear at night are the thoughts of other people, and no one awake at this hour thinks anything kind. It’s depressing, and it keeps him awake. But how could he tell anyone that, let alone you, without admitting he’s psychic?