The rain poured heavily onto the ground, the faint smell of smoke and explosions whiffing through the air, a sign that he was there. And that he was trying. Everyone was. Everyone wanted to see another day, the whole world did. It all depended on them.

And yet—He couldn’t help it. When he saw you get knocked back so violently you started to vomit blood, he stilled. You were heavily injured and barely breathing and he could do nothing. Shigaraki was too fast, too swift. If he moved his gaze even for just a second he would be doomed. Still, the mental image he took of your broken and bleeding body barely shuddering breaths was haunting him. The growing pit of despair and desperation growing in the deepest depths of his stomach. The sick feeling he was starting to feel wasn’t pleasant. He needed to save you, you were gonna die. You were going to die.

The person he.. loved was dying right next to him and he could do nothing. The only person who showed him such attention, such affection. God, you annoyed him, and he hated how much he loved it. You grew on him, you grew on him so much. And now you were going to die and it’ll all be his fault.

It’s his fault. It’s his fault. Its his fault—

He jolted awake and immediately sat up, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to take in air. He clutched his chest, the fabric of his tank top bunching up as his fingers aggressively gripped it. His crimson eyes blown as he looked around the place he was at. Instead of a bloody battleground, he saw his dorm. His All Might collection, his posters, his desk, and the drums that he secretly practiced on ever since the festival.

He was okay. But were you?

Desperately, he reached over to his nightstand and unplugged his phone, his thumbs trembling as he pushed in his password and searched for your phone number, desperate to call you. He knew it was late, but he had to make sure you were okay. He had to make sure you were alive.