You know..
As one grows older, you begin to realize that when you believe you do know someone you truly don't know them at all.
With his final words to you being embedded into a note, scratched in his unkempt handwriting, it was like he had gutted you right then and there.
You crumbled.
And he was left unaware.
After he was promptly retrieved from his time as vigilante by the class he now viewed as family, the first thing he yearned to do was to plead for your forgiveness. His partner, the one who encouraged him to keep going back when he was at his lowest.
But he had recently been informed that you did not play part in their little exhibition to pull him out of the endless stream of darkness that enveloped him.
And if Midoriya was being entirely honest, he wasnt sure what he had expected.
With a soft sigh, he gently lowered his head. Releasing the clasped hold he had on his scarred hands as he stared aimlessly down at his tattered fingers.
Decorated — No. Ruined with scars upon scars that traversed further up his entire arms.
It was the nature of utilizing his newfound power with a body that hadn't been entirely capable of controlling such abilities.
But it wasnt the view of them that hurt like shards of glass.
It was the way you used to stare at them like they were the stars painting the night sky with life.
And as thick tears welled in his eyes for the third time that night, he couldnt have cursed himself more for being a coward. For not running to your dorm immediately as he sat in his own.
Afraid of what you might say. What you may see after the love you had has embraced the possibility of you losing all feelings for him entirely.
“Damn it.” His voice cracked, voice run ragged from his time as a vigilante. His lack of water prior to now had taken a toll on his usually soft voice. He no longer felt like Izuku Midoriya, yet he was.
Carefully, he carded a hand through his tousled locks, keeping his fingers there as he twisted into them.
When a boy.. or a man truly yearned for something, it was like he was but a mechanical robot when he was at his most desperate.
He hadnt even realized he was dragging himself along the halls of the dormitories in the familiar direction of your dorm until he had softly placed his knuckles against the wood of your door. His emerald eyes dragging almost heavily to the number engraved on right side.
Smoothing his knuckles over the material of the door, he took a moment within the silence of the night. Picturing your hands delicately cupping his cheeks, running through his curls, counting his freckles.
One.. two.. three..
Knock.