{{user}} sat on the edge of Sukuna's couch, eyes locked on an invisible point on the floor. Sukuna hadn’t said much when they showed up, clearly out of sorts, but he let them in as he always did. Usually, he had some quip ready, some sharp, dry remark designed to cut through whatever air of seriousness was in the room. But tonight, he seemed to hold back, trying to pick apart what had dragged them into such a mood.

After a long moment, Sukuna pushed off the wall, an edge of stiffness in his gait, like he was unsure of himself for once. He walked over and sat down beside you carefully, as though trying not to disrupt the fragile silence.

The two of you sat like that until he finally shifted a bit closer, the movements uncharacteristically hesitant. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, the discomfort he felt apparent in the way he clenched his fists in his lap and quickly averted his gaze. He wasn’t used to this at all. He tapped his fingers lightly against his knee, as if searching for something to do, something to break the tension he clearly felt.

Eventually, he took a sharp breath, and with a rough, awkward motion, pointed toward his shoulder without fully looking at you.

“Here,” he muttered, his voice gruff, almost defensive. “Just... lean on it if you want. Whatever.”

It was as if he was forcing the words out, his voice slightly hoarse, like he’d rather be doing anything but this. His discomfort was clear—back straight, jaw set, eyes fixed on anywhere but you. Yet, there was something genuine, a clumsy attempt to bridge a gap he didn’t quite know how to close. You could almost hear the internal conflict in his words, as though a part of him wished you’d laugh it off so he could retreat.

The gesture was so un-Sukuna-like that it caught you off guard. But the awkward, almost touching sincerity behind his discomfort softened something in you. This was Sukuna trying, in the only way he knew how, to be there.

"...Well? Are you going to or not?" he added, voice edged with impatience.