"Tomura," I whispered in my mind, willing his name to anchor me.
He promised he would never leave, those words echoing in my memory as I struggled to calm the storm of anxiety rising within me. The panic pressed down on me, prickling my skin and making my hands tremble.
My Tomura, please, I silently pleaded, don't be too upset. I need to see you. I need to know you're still mine. I'll explain everything the moment I know you're not going to walk away.
—
I've been waiting for an hour at the park. He still didn't show up. I did what he said. I open my cracked phone again.
The text read, "Meet me at the park after school, we will talk then."
It specifically said after school. It only caused me to worry. I curl up on the bench, trying to think. I scanned over my memory, narrowing down his possible location. I remember smelling alcohol on him when I went through that portal. I grabbed my backpack, pulling out his black jacket. I slipped it on, pulling up its hood.
I wandered around many bars. This area is really dangerous. People of all walks of life were present, but those with shady backgrounds were particularly prominent at the moment. I hid in the shadows.
I know if he knew what I was doing, he would scold me. I just need the assurance he knew that wasn't me.
It was 10 at night, and I needed to pick up the speed. I saw a bar inconspicuous place in the alleyway. I tried to smell the area, and it smelled familiar. I hoped I was right. I shake off my nerves and walk inside. It was a sitting area and a small bar towards the back. I saw a man cleaning his station. Their body didn't seem tangible. It was like a purple cloud roughly in the shape of a man.
I felt eyes from behind me.
"What can I get you?" The bartender asked.
"Water," I whispered.
I put some money down.
It came within a second.
"Thank you."
They nodded.
I sipped the water slowly. I sniffed out this area. There were traces of my alpha. It was faint, but it was something. I am always asking for another water. I rubbed the broken ring in my pocket and stared at our old messages.
A tissue was held in front of me. It was from the bartender.
"Thank you," I said, my voice hoarse.
"Who are you waiting for?"
"My partner."
"Do they frequent this bar?"
"I-I don't know, but their scent is here. Please let me wait until you close, I'll pay for my drinks and.." I stopped myself from breaking down.
"It's just water. Take your time."
I thanked him once more.
I did just that, sitting for what felt like an eternity as two hours slowly ticked away. Midnight loomed, the café now quieter, the overhead lights casting long shadows. My lip trembled, a visible sign of the growing discomfort that each passing minute intensified the feeling that I didn't belong. Eventually, I faced the inevitable and decided to leave. Grateful for the hospitality, I left a tip for the free water. I pulled out my phone, its screen webbed with cracks, and saw the time: 12:37 a.m.
Tears welled up in my eyes, refusing to be blinked away. I couldn't shake my longing to speak with my Alpha, one last time.
The front door swung open, carrying in the faint scent of rain and city streets. Assuming more customers had arrived, I kept my head bowed, making my way toward the exit. As I moved past a couple absorbed in their conversation, I hesitated, feeling an unmistakable presence. My heart skipped.
It's him.
Red-eyed and radiant, he stood in all his glory. Despite the soft look in his eyes, a dangerous glint lurked beneath. His pale blue hair and defined, ivory skin complemented his formal attire: dress pants and a shirt. He had his arm around a woman's shoulder, laughing softly. The sight broke my heart. I bit my lip and stood up, resisting the urge to run to him and embrace him. He was talking to the woman, but when he saw me, he paused and our eyes locked. His gaze flicked over my rumpled clothes and unkempt appearance. An audience formed, giving Shigaraki space as he stared me down, his eyes intimidating. I braced myself, refusing to shrink away. He must have felt hurt, of course, he did. He walked over, stopped in front of me.
He itched to hug me.
I could feel his compassion in the way his eyes swept slowly, searchingly over me. I caught a glimpse of myself in the window: my eyes swollen and red, cheeks sunken, skin ghostly pale, hair in wild disarray. Gone was his polished look; he was a shadow of himself.
He seemed to absorb my sorrow, standing stricken in silence. Though frustration simmered in him for being shut out, he didn't raise his voice. His fingers twitched, betraying his urge to reach out and hold me, and I noticed the tension trembling beneath his skin. I stood shaking, vision swimming, every sound muffled but for my rapid heartbeat.
My breath came out shaky, a trembling little gasp as I struggled to manage the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to crack through the fragile composure I fought to maintain.
An oppressive silence pressed down on the room, so dense I felt as if it could suffocate me. I could feel every pair of eyes drilling into my skin, prickly and invasive, but it was his stare that burned most fiercely. His gaze latched onto me with an urgent, almost desperate intensity, raw and unfiltered, as if only he could see straight through to my turmoil.