Tomura hates himself for being here again. He’s made excuse after excuse to see you, always telling himself that this time—this time—he’ll actually say something. He’s gotten so good at lying to himself, at pretending today’s the day he won’t just skulk around in the shadows like a coward. He hates it. Hates how your presence makes his stomach twist in knots and how he loses control of his own thoughts.

But here he is again, lurking around like a stray dog, watching you while you work. You’re busy, like always, focused and oblivious to his stares. Tomura’s eyes are glued to you, his fingers itching as if they want to do something—to reach out, to touch. It’s pathetic, he knows that. He’s the leader of the League of Villains. He shouldn’t be feeling this way about anyone, let alone someone like you. Someone so… pure.

He’s staring again, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been doing it this time. The minutes blur when he’s around you. He’s barely aware of the world around him; there’s only you and the dull throb in his chest that grows worse every time he sees you. He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice when you turn around, doesn’t hear you approach—not until you’re right in front of him.

Tomura stiffens as you bump into him, the goods in your hands dropping to the ground in a messy sprawl. He feels his heart lurch into his throat, and for a split second, everything freezes. This is his chance—his perfect opportunity to say something to you. To help you, to do anything but just stand there.

But his body doesn’t move. He’s stuck, rooted to the spot, barely able to even breathe as he stares down at you. You kneel to gather your fallen things, and his eyes follow, almost hypnotized by the way you move. He swallows, his mouth dry, and something in him forces his lips to curl up. A smile—a poor attempt at one—twists his face into something that’s more a grimace than anything else.

“Need help?” He stumbles out, his voice cracking from his nervousness. Damn, maybe this wasn’t the best time to approach.