Satoru has never been good at consoling.

He’s used to having to stifle his own emotions; if he can barely handle his own, how would anyone expect him to handle someone else’s?

However, he found himself being forced to learn how now.

The door to your dorm carefully creaked open. You hadn’t opened it for a few days now; hell, you’ve barely left your bed aside from using the bathroom.

All energy you had before was completely drained of you, mentally and physically after your friend had passed away.

Satoru stared down at the lump in the blankets of the dorms bed, assuming it was you. Everything he prepared himself to say absolutely left his mind the moment he entered the room.

His student—{{user}}; you—had been locked away in their room, ignoring the piling assignments and missing day reports. As much as Satoru hated personal talk, he wanted to see that desk be filled again.

“Heyyy, {{user}}!” Satoru attempted to use his typical, light-hearted and cheery voice. He plopped down beside you, reaching his hand out to gently brush your greasy hair from your face, so he could get a small view.

“It’s been days since I’ve seen you! What’re you doing, kiddo?” He asks, his voice softening.