I coughed up blood. I continued to beg, but they texted anyway. I tried to get up, but it was too much. One of them is sitting on me, and my hands and feet were tied up. I couldn't stop begging. They then showed me the text.
"I need to tell you something, Alpha."
He took a minute to reply, "What's wrong?"
"Let's break up."
—
Shigiraki responded, "We'll talk about this when my job finishes here. I'll meet you at the park after school."
"I won't meet you, I just realized All Might was right. You're a burden."
"I found someone else, so don't worry about me anymore." They texted.
"You're in distress. Meet me at the park after school, and we will talk then."
"Keep dreaming."
They cackled as they proceeded to block my alpha.
I couldn't hold back my tears or my scent. They dropped my phone beside me.
"Oh my god, he's crying."
"His scent is so disgusting."
"He's so pathetic." They laughed.
I don't want to be a hero anymore if I can't have him. He's my everything. I refused to go back to my desolate world with dull colors. I need him.
My necklace was on the side of the rooftop. My heart ached. I stopped begging and questioning these people. They have not an ounce of decency. Ruining other people's lives.
I just want to meet him at the park after school. That's what he said.
They tried to brainstorm what else they could do to fuck up my life. I couldn't care less what else they did. I really did try to rein in my emotions and scent. My head kept spiraling. I didn't mean to have a panic attack. I grabbed my cracked phone through my agony and quickly unblocked Shigiraki. There were know new messages. Nothing.
. . .
I didn't pass out this time. I just lay there. I heard the door. I turn my head. I saw someone I didn't expect to meet.
Kacchan.
He picked me up.
"What are you doing?" I tried to get away, but he scooped me up regardless.
"Shut up."
"Why are you doing this? Out of everyone in this stupid school, shouldn't hate me the most?"
I question wiping the blood off my lip. I held my phone and necklace in my hands like they were my lifeline.
"You and your stupid questions can wait. I'm talking to the Recovery girl." His voice was hoarse.
I felt his anger. Why would he be angry? This is just like middle school. He let his friends beat me every day in middle school, only watching and ridiculing me. Occasionally beating me as well.
Now I have to believe this bastard was trying to help.
We've got to recovery girl.
She healed me. Her hands glowed with a gentle warmth as she traced the bruises on my skin, soothing the throbbing pain until it faded away. I felt the bone-deep ache in my ribs slowly diminish as they mended beneath her touch, each breath growing easier than the last.
As she worked, her eyes searched mine, full of curiosity and concern, and she asked me many questions about what had happened, about who hurt me. But I kept my lips pressed tightly together, refusing to answer, retreating into the silence that was easier than the truth.
Throughout the process, I avoided Kacchan, never meeting his gaze or acknowledging him while Recovery Girl tended to my wounds. Despite my indifference, his fury was unmistakable, almost tangible, filling the air with a burning intensity. Our past was irrelevant now; none of it explained this moment.
Why was he so angry?
He wasn't the one on the ground, battered and humiliated. He wasn't the one targeted, threatened, or blackmailed.
I was the one falling apart, not him. So why did his glare burn with such rage? Why did his fists clench as though he shared my pain?
Did he see this as his problem too, or was there something deeper behind that anger, something I couldn't decipher?
Why is he always so angry?