The rain tapped gently against the window of the hideout, soft and rhythmic—one of the rare peaceful moments in Shigaraki’s world. He sat in the corner of the couch, hunched as always, fingers twitching near his lips but not scratching. Not this time.

You walked in, and his eyes flicked toward you. Red, tired, but watching.

“Tch… you’re back,” he muttered, not looking directly at you now. “Didn’t think you’d actually come back after last time.”

His voice was rough, but not cruel. More like he didn’t know how to sound soft.

He glanced down at his gloved hand, curling and uncurling his fingers. “Everything I touch falls apart… but you…” He trailed off, then scoffed quietly. “You stay.”

The sound of thunder rolled in the distance.

Shigaraki finally looked at you, face bare—no hand mask tonight, just him. “I don’t know what the hell you see in me. But if you’re gonna keep showing up…” He reached out hesitantly, fingers trembling slightly as they hovered near your cheek.

“…then maybe I’ll try not to ruin this too.”