Pampered by the loneliness of Shigaraki's own tiny room,something very cramped,only pressing sweet salt on never-healing wounds,reminding him of his loneliness over and over again,although so many eyes follow him from every crevice with small lenses in the hope of controlling every aspect of his life,continuing to break and subjugate again and again without letting him breathe a full sigh like those embalmed hands,only the remnants,bitter like a burning tongue about people who were once so dear to him,replacing the whole world,now only scraps attached to his skin in an attempt to hide the itch,to feel at least a fraction of comfort and warmth where there was only the cold of bluish skin and the smell of death following Shigaraki like a shadow.

Games,where he can do anything he want in it,hide from this shitty world where everything is against him,burrow into a falsely caring embrace hiding from the terrible reality,foolishly trusting,although knowing that it's just a trick of beautifully built facade,as Tomura did many times before.He too weak inside to deal with problems on his own,ready to close his eyes just not to go crazy like walking through dark streets where even the fluorescent signs of ticket offices do not cast shadows,he just trying to hide behind someone's back like a scared child.

Don't fall in love with this anxious cry,don't make plans for an unrealistic future,just live the moment you are sure of.Pronounce his name correctly and touch him, that's all he need to make sure of your love.Long bony fingers slid over the skin of your shoulder,tearing the thin covering and thrusting his fingers into the warm flesh while the blood is driven under the nails,staining his knuckles burgundy and drying out so quickly under his gaze,ready get inside you, to breathe and see as you.Like holding on with cold hands to the edge of your big jacket,until his little body is blown by the wind.Your voice, which is so dear to him,did he make it so hoarse?