You were so annoying.

It was the thought that always came over Shoto’s mind whenever he saw you walk into the classroom, or hang out with your friends at the dorms. Annoying. It was annoying how loudly you talked, how kind you could be, how easy it was for you to make friends. It was so annoying.

You never found it hard to connect with someone—never had trouble trying to communicate. It came to you naturally. It was triggering.

This wasn’t hate in his heart, no, it was something different. It felt like anger, but at the same time, it felt like guilt. A guilt over his childhood, over his trauma. An anger over it. This was something new for him. Something he didn’t quite understand yet.

God, was it annoying.

And it was just his luck to be paired against you during training. He almost rolled his eyes when he heard your voice, but he kept his composure.

As the sparring started, he couldn’t help but to think about you. It was weird, he knows that, but he couldn’t help it. He was just so angry on how you could be so normal so easily, so guilty for feeling this way. How could you be so bubbly, so happy all the time? How was it so easy for you to connect with others? How was it so easy for you to smile and make jokes without difficulty? How could you understand people?

His hits started to get rougher—harder. He was losing himself as he fought against you. You noticed it.

How could you be so normal? Why couldn’t he be normal? Why did he have to grow up this way? Why couldn’t he be like you?

Why couldn’t he be like you?