It had been two weeks since you last spoke to Hitoshi Shinsou. Not because you wanted to, but because you didn’t know how to forgive him.

He hadn’t meant to use his quirk. You knew that. But it still felt like betrayal when he triggered it mid-argument, forcing you to be quiet just so he could explain himself.

You’d stormed out, dignity intact but your heart in shreds.

So when he showed up at your dorm door tonight—dark circles under his eyes, hands shoved deep in his pockets—you didn’t know what to expect.

“{{user}},” he said, voice low.

You didn’t answer.

He sighed, leaning against the doorframe like it hurt to stand.

“I messed up,” he muttered. “I know I did. And I’ve been trying to respect your space, but I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

You stared, lips tight.

“I didn’t use my quirk because I wanted to win. I used it because I panicked. Because I felt you slipping away and I was desperate to make you hear me. But I didn’t stop to think how it would feel for you.”