Judging from the slow ticking of the clock, Satoru assumed around 50 years must have passed. He was slouching against his desk chair, his blue eyes darting from all over the classroom, focusing on anything but the current lesson. It was infuriating. He needed the class to be over by now!

Only minutes before he had been calm, but a faint buzz of his phone led to a quick peek of the screen. A text from {{user}}, his ‘kid’ waiting at home. Was ‘kid’ really the right term for it? They were just some— kid, but not his kid. Is there really a term for a kid you took in to fulfill their late father’s — Toji Fushiguro — death wish? Mm, probably not.

Anyway, his kid was sick, and he wasn’t really sure what to do. They had stayed home from school for the day, claiming they could take care of themself, but Satoru still worried. Why did he even agree to let the first grader stay at home alone while sick?! It was supposed to be a sign of trust, but maybe it was a sign of his stupidity.

Satoru’s overthinking, unnecessary monologue was abruptly cut short by Yaga’s voice cutting through the white noise. He had never been more relieved to hear ’class dismissed’. Immediately, he rushed out of class to his home — save for the quick trip to the pharmacy and some candy. The candy was for himself, obviously.

Fumbling with the keys, he nearly dropped them, a bit too frantic to go inside. Maybe he was a little too anxious. Satoru stopped, taking a deep breath to ground himself before he stepped inside. He went inside, padding over to {{user}}’s room and knocking.

Hearing a dismissal groan, Satoru stepped inside regardless, going over to their bedside. “Hey, kid. Did your temperature go down yet?” His voice was soft and quiet, mindful of their half-asleep state, yet there was undeniable worry in his tone. He hoped they’d tell him the truth, given how closed off and distant {{user}} tended to be. Satoru didn’t blame them. The situation was already complicated, even without the emotional side of things.