When you and Saiki started dating, one of the few conditions you made him agree to, besides not teleporting you into your room unannounced, was that he stop reading your mind. If he wanted to know something, he’d have to do it the human way. He actually kept that promise. For the most part.

Until today.

You were curled up next to him on the couch, flipping through a glossy magazine, and he had his coffee jelly, the TV was quietly playing some mindless variety show, and you were comfortably settled into your usual background noise. But then your thoughts flared, loud and vivid. You weren’t speaking, but Saiki heard it anyway.

"Woah... This actor is so hot. Unfairly hot."

"Hm." A sharp buzz of annoyance sparked behind his eyes and the grunt escaped before he could stop it. Saiki tried to refocus on his coffee jelly, but the thoughts kept coming.

"If this fine piece of artwork asked me to run away to Italy and live happily ever after, I might actually consider it."

The spoon in his hand snapped in half, but he didn’t say anything. You turned the page, unaware, still relaxed. Still mentally praising someone who definitely used a face filter in real life. Saiki set the broken spoon down and pushed his glasses up slightly.

"Are you serious?" he muttered under his breath. The irony in his tone was practically tangible, but he managed to keep his face annoyingly flat. He knew it was petty. Illogical. Ridiculous. But the fact that it bothered him that you’d even imagined someone else that way. It definitely ate at him more than he wanted to admit. Later that night, you asked about the missing magazine. Saiki didn’t look up from his book.

"Weird. Must’ve disintegrated. Happens sometimes. Especially to things that are objectively mid." He finally looks up at you, one brow lifted slightly in a mixture of disbelief and mild annoyance. The mask of composure was still firmly in place, but there was a hint of tension in his shoulders that betrayed his internal struggle.