seen from Lithuania
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Thailand
seen from United States
seen from Hungary
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
[The notebook Best Jeanist had gifted him is open at his computer’s side. Quietly, he jots something down in it, scrawling fast before returning to his keyboard, the room filling with the lightly aggressive taps of the keys as he types. After a few minutes, he clicks something, then returns to the notebook, scrawling, and then again, back to his typing. Again and again.
Slowly but surely, the list of hero names he’s writing gets longer and longer as he works.]
He holds himself together for her.
Eri’s smile is bright and it’s beautiful. It takes everything he has and more to match every one, but he does, beaming at her with every grin she gives him.
It’s what she deserves. She deserves to be happy.
And what about what he deserves?
He deserves to fall apart, rip apart, tear into shreds.
He holds it all in, smiling, laughing.
He keeps trying to be beautiful, too.
Monoma watches the boy sleeping peacefully besides him for just a moment. Shy and gentle and as carefully as he can manage, he toys with his hair, playing with the dark strands until he rouses slightly in his sleep.
He stops then, waiting until he settles again, then starts over, even more gently than before.
Frowning to himself, he comes to an eventual stop, settling besides him with a sigh. He’s struggling, and the reasons why are hard to place, hard to grasp, hard to come to terms with.
Awase is... ... so kind to him.
And he just can’t understand it.
A sea of gore roils quietly in the back of his skull, dripping down his spine until it oozes slow into his stomach. Monoma quietly wishes the boy was crueler. Less understanding. Less eager to help him. He wishes talking to him didn’t feel like getting flayed in reverse, his skin stinging and raw as it scars over with his perfectly timed words. He wishes he were someone who deserved to be in his presence.
Chewing on his lip, Monoma leans in to kiss his forehead quick before rolling out of the bed and grabbing his phone. As he quietly gets dressed, he stops to scrawl out a quick note, placing it besides Awase’s pillow.
Went for a walk.. Tonight was fun. Thanks. xx
With that, he gives him one more little look before he slips out of the room.
@ua-awaseyosetsu
Easy to forgive the victim of a tragedy, though, isn’t it.
.09.10.
12:30 AM.
“... Monoma?”
A quick glimpse inside his room reveals that it’s been left empty.
The nurse frowns. Checks his chart. Visits to the bathroom were supervised, any meals were delivered to the room itself and supervised, there was no entering or leaving this room without approval beforehand. There was no way he could have just left.
And yet, the room is empty.
Monoma is gone.
The nurse takes a step back, struck with a careful, professional dread. The halls had to be checked. Every room in the ward had to be checked. A patient couldn’t just escape. Not like now, not like this.
This...
...
💓🌟
💓...
... Monoma doesn’t realize he’s awake at first to realize it. He’s just experimenting, playing around with his quirk as they lay around. Snowflakes dance on his palm, twisting themselves into a tiny icicle that curls and stretches as it grows. His control is sloppier than he wants it to be, a frown on his face as the icicle shakes its way towards the design he wants, only to suddenly jerk out of place, becoming something violent and ugly.
He pouts. The icicle shatters into an icy dust before floating into snowflakes again, and again into the little statue he’s trying to create. He does this for minutes, hours. Time escapes him.
His hand starts shaking and aching with the effort, though he hardly notices or cares. Frostbite is a weakness he doesn’t really care to pay attention to while he still has the time, and he wants to master this so he could show it off to Todoroki later, imagining his expression when he masters this little feat. Already smugly grinning, he continues on, working through another tiny shatter of snow before he starts to build it up again, vaguely wincing as frost starts to gather.
There’s a soft shift on the bed. A hand rests alongside his, radiating warmth and care. Monoma pouts as Todoroki sits up a little besides him, meeting his gaze quietly as the frost melts under his fingers.
They stare at each other for a second. Todoroki opens his mouth to speak before Monoma simply leans in, capturing his lips before he can say a word.
@ua-todoroki
...
🌟...
... It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. There’s a huge chandalier stretching all across the ceiling, golden and sparkling in all sorts of colors as the light catches its various gems and crystals. A few smaller ones are positoned besides it, beautiful and elegant as it orbits around what might as well has replaced the sun in his eyes. He can’t stop staring, pointing up at him with small, pudgy hands.
“Look!! Look!”
All around him, his family and their friends giggles and laughs in delight. Some reach out to ruffle his hair, others give his chubby cheeks a loving pinch. His grandfather scoops him right up into his arms, hoisting him into the air so he could get a better look at the dazzling thing above him.
“Yes, look!” he repeats after him with a hearty laugh, giving him a squeeze, their cheeks nuzzling together before he gestures for the rest of the gathering to come closer. “Look, look at what my grandson can do! I’m telling you, there isn’t a better quirk out there! It’s perfect! Neito, show them what you showed me--”
Little Neito, too small to really realize what this little performance is about, just nods with glee as he reaches his hands out greedily, grabbing for the closest quirk there was and grinning wide as he makes a sudden splash of colorful sparks rain up from his fingertips to the gasps and coos of everyone around.
Hideout’s quiet as ever as he goes inside.
“You don’t have to protect him.”
Monoma’s eyes widen and snap upwards to face his new visitor. A detective looks down on him, hands in her pockets, eyes hard but smile sympathetic as she paces slowly in front of him.
He bites his lip after a moment, fighting back his protests. He needs to keep the act up.
