You had a knife to his throat.
He didn’t move.
He could’ve. He should’ve. But he just sat there—scraped up, bleeding, breathing like the fight had already taken everything from him.
Maybe it had.
Izuku Midoriya—Deku—didn’t look like the boy from U.A. Not anymore. Gone was the wide-eyed determination, the too-big heart that always ran toward danger. What sat before you now was someone older than he had any right to be. Haunted. Hollow.
Tired.
He looked up at you like he didn’t recognize what stood above him. Or maybe he did—and that was the problem.
His voice came out broken.
"You're with them now..."
It wasn’t accusation. It was disbelief. Grief, raw and exposed, like he still didn’t want to believe what was in front of him.
"You... you're a villain."
He said it like it hurt. Like the word left scars on his tongue. Like speaking it out loud meant there was no undoing this.
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Your silence was sharper than the blade in your hand.
He dropped his eyes. He couldn’t look at you anymore.
"I thought it was safer that way."
He meant his disappearance. The sudden silence. The way he vanished from your life like you were just another casualty in the name of heroism.
But he didn’t say who it had been safer for.
He didn’t have to.
His jaw tightened. He knew. Every second that passed between you was filled with everything unsaid—every night you waited, every unanswered message, every headline that chipped away at hope.
"I never forgot you. I thought I was protecting you."
It sounded weak. Empty. Even he knew it.
You lowered the knife—not in forgiveness, not in mercy—but because the weight of everything else was heavier.
You could feel his eyes on your face. Finally seeing you. Not as an enemy, not as a headline. As you.
"I didn’t think you’d… I didn’t think you’d turn into this."
There was no malice in his words. Only sadness. Regret so deep it sat in his bones.
He looked down again, like if he didn’t, the truth in your eyes would unravel him completely.
"If I could go back..."