Let me help you for Oumasai, maybe??
“Let me help you”
They’ve been spending the past hour or so rearranging the case files in the archive into something less…chaotic. Shuuichi finds that despite Hope’s Peak’s extensive collection of criminal case files and other confidential affairs, they don’t really bother to keep it organized. It just sits here, collecting dust, with piles of books and documents left behind by the three other people who visit it. He sighs, squeezing the last case file in this crate on the old wood shelf. It barely fits, but that’s enough for him.
As soon as it’s in, the door to the archive opens with a loud bang. “Thanks,” Shuuichi greets, turning around to face Ouma-kun carrying a box through the door. It seems a bit too heavy for him, because he walks slightly funny, physically straining his arms. They had moved some of the boxes out to the library to better access the shelves, but the trouble is bringing them back in. Maybe I should have gotten the box…Not that he’s much stronger. “You can just leave that—” but he doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Ouma-kun tumbles to the floor, box and all.
The papers scatter everywhere, some miraculously remaining in their folders, others flying far beyond them. In the midst of them, half on top of the box, half on the floor, Ouma-kun lies. He groans, “oww…” reaching a hand to his head rubbing it. It’s about 30 seconds too long for a person to just lay on the floor moaning. Is he…okay? And just as he wonders that, Ouma-kun sits up. “You’re getting the next one…”
“Yeah of course, but for now, let me help you clean this up.” Shuuichi replies. He squats on the floor next to Ouma-kun and begins rifling through the stray papers to figure out which folder each belongs to. “You don’t need to see a nurse, right?” He asks, glancing up at the other. He doesn’t look too injured, despite the dramatics earlier.
Not that the dramatics are over, because Ouma-kun frowns and whines some more. “My head hurts a lot you know!” For emphasis he holds his head in his hands, grumbling to himself. “Saihara-chan is so cruel…he doesn’t even check to see if I’m hurt…” He sniffs, waterworks at the ready, looking up at Shuuichi with wobbly watery eyes.
He doubts it’s that bad. Shuuichi doesn’t see a cut, and he didn’t fall with a loud bang, more like a dull thud. He’s definitely just playing it up to get out of work. But, still—“Fine, fine,”—he inches closer to Ouma-kun, brushing aside his hand and his hair to get a better look. Soft, wispy purple hair rests against his hand as he trails his fingers across the alleged injury. There’s nothing. Of course there’s nothing. “You’re not even bruised. Are you happy?”
Shuuichi pulls back, taking his hand away, meeting Ouma-kun’s eyes once again. His expression is…strange. He doesn’t even look like he’s paying attention, his purple eyes—were they always so vibrant—staring at nothing, lost in thought elsewhere. But even more strangely was this: instead of that normal, shit-eating grin there’s a peaceful smile, barely noticeable, but still present. And then it’s gone in a flash, “Nishishi~ you make this so easy,” he says, jumping up to his feet and running back to the door. “I’m gonna grab a snack! See ya!”
