It all started unexpectedly—like most life-altering events tend to. You had no idea how or why Tomura Shigaraki had ended up in your life, much less in your heart, but here you were. It began with little encounters, accidental run-ins, and shared silences that eventually stretched into conversations. Shigaraki was nothing like anyone you’d ever met—quiet, reserved, and painfully aloof. But there was something about him, something unspoken, that made you stay.

You tried dropping hints, subtle at first: lingering glances, small touches on his arm, thoughtful gestures. But Shigaraki remained oblivious. Either that, or he was very, very good at pretending. “You’re acting weird,” he’d say with a frown, crossing his arms. You’d laugh it off, even if it stung a little.

It took time—a lot of time—for Shigaraki to let his walls down. He was cautious, like a wounded animal afraid of being hurt again. It wasn’t personal; you could tell he’d been through things he didn’t want to talk about. So, you didn’t push. You simply stayed, offering patience and kindness, even when he was frustratingly closed off.

Slowly but surely, he began to open up. At first, it was small things—comments about his day, a sarcastic remark that made you laugh. Then came the deeper conversations, the ones that happened late at night when the world was quiet, and his defenses were lower. He’d blame you for the way you made him feel—irritated, flustered, or oddly warm—but he stopped pushing you away. In fact, he began to crave your presence, even if he didn’t fully understand why. Physical touch was a hurdle. At first, he’d flinch at any attempt, stiff and awkward if you so much as brushed his hand. But once he grew comfortable, everything changed. He’d be the one initiating—resting his head on your shoulder, holding your hand with a gentleness you wouldn’t have thought possible.

“Am I… enough for you?” he asked one night, his voice barely audible as he sat next to you. His hands were balled into fists, his face turned away.