Snow fell around them in careful grace, fluttering to the ground. Muted conversations happened around you. A little bubble was formed around you and Sero, neither making the first move to talk. Not yet.

It was simple, really. {{user}} and Sero had broken up with each other a while back in summer because of Sero’s flirty advancements with other women, and because you wanted something stable. Something you could count on.

You weren’t available for each other, so it didn’t really.. work out.

The incident that broke it all was when Sero drunkenly kissed another woman. So it ended. Right there and then.

Radio silence on both ends until winter came along. 6 months of radio silence.

It was broken when Sero texted {{user}} asking to meet up at their spot. A simple bench nearby a playground.

You had agreed, curious and reluctant. So now here you were, with Sero beside you on the same bench.

Unbeknownst to you, he was struggling so much it hurt. Sure, he flirted, but that was to get rid of the pain and overthinking. If he hurt you first, you couldn’t hurt him back, right? Wrong.

It backfired so badly. He couldn’t get enough sleep — the bed was too empty, the silence suffocating as he listened to his own heavy breathing in vain. He missed your meaningless rants, your quiet whispers, your adoration. He couldn’t be the best for you, he always thought.

But after a very enlightening talk with Bakugo (better not to ask), he got his shit together and texted {{user}}. He’d explain. He’d try and repent. But he doesn’t expect forgiveness, not really. It was a miracle you even went, to be honest.

But now the words are stuck in his throat. The rehearsed speech went down the drain, just seeing you here.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry.” He started off. Before you could interrupt, he continued before he lost his nerve.

“I just-I got insecure, alright? You’re you, effortlessly you, and you could have anyone you wanted. While I was just- a loser. A bum. I was shitty for thinking ’If I hurt you first, then I wouldn’t get hurt.’ It backfired. But that’s not an excuse. I’m not looking for… for forgiveness or anything like that.” He dry washed his face with a deep sigh.

“I’m just.. I’m sorry for everything. I’m not what you deserve. I’m not what you need.” He mumbled out, face buried in his scarf.

“… Merry Christmas, {{user}}.” He stood up, unsure of himself, gaze on anywhere but you.