#please hori make him come back so this drabble will make no sense!

[katsukistrustychurchshoos]

Fuck you. This made me cry fat ugly tears

The last MHA chapters were sad but inspiring, and so I wrote a thing…

WARNING: Spoilers for MHA chapter 362 under the cut!!

Keep reading

[hydrangeapartridge]

The last MHA chapters were sad but inspiring, and so I wrote a thing...

WARNING: Spoilers for MHA chapter 362 under the cut!!

You feel a pang in your chest when you enter the classroom. It hasn't changed one bit. It feels like it's been an eternity since you last attended a lesson. You've changed since then; all of you have. You faced hardships that even the best lectures couldn't prepare you to.

The small chattering noises that fill the room contrast with the loud yelling you'd gotten used to. You miss the yelling, but you don't miss the explosions; the screams, the cries of the past few weeks. You wish you could forget them, forget him so it wouldn't hurt so much to know that he won't come to class today.

You're not a child anymore when you sit at small desk on the second row. It's tinier than you remember.

Outside, the cherryblossom fall prettily, all pink and glamourous. You watch them twirl, trying your best to ignore how the seat to your left remains empty. He's always there before you because he gets up so early. Was always there before you.

You busy yourself with emptying the content of your messengerbag, to avoid thinking about half-burnt faces and lost arms. About children going to war. About victory coming at too high a cost. The nightmares plague you enough already, you can't let them darken your days too.

You absentmindedly caress the colorful little bookmarks that stick out of your favourite notebook. He used to make fun of them; of how you higlighted every damn word you wrote with a different color. Your fingers rythmically play with the pen he used to steal from you. It's your favourite pen. You like how it feels between your fingers.

Beside you, the feet of a chair drag noisily against the wooden floor. Your heart races in your chest as some stupid hopeless part of you makes you turn your head too fast to your left. Where you wished to see a familiar mop of ashen blond hair, you find a mess of violet curls. Shinsou's evertired eyes meet yours and you quickly look away. 

You send him a death glare because being angry feels better than being sad. However he isn't intimidated, and thinking he can read you like an open book he says "I'm sorry for you loss"

It's not his fault, you know that. But you can't contain the anger rising inside your gut. It's not fair; it's his desk. It's not fair that he can be replaced just like that. But you're not a kid anymore, so you can't complain about Shinsou stealing his seat to your exhausted teacher. It won't make him come back.

With a deep sigh, Shinsou takes a seat - his seat. You feel his gaze on you but you stubbornly keep looking away. Your notebook is suddenly so very interesting.

"I won't apologize for being here" He mutters and your blood boils in your veins. You can't even fathom how difficult it must be for him, to be here, but you still want to hate him for it. 

"He... He had a far prettier handwritting" The way you automatically use the past tense makes your voice tremble. You shouldn't compare them, and yet you do, even if it's not fair. 

His voice is but a soft whisper, so different from the loud drawl you were used to hear coming from the left. His words make your throat tighten, and tears soon start to blurr your vision. He takes you off guard; you're more used to roughness than kindness. Your emotions are running very high these days, so it is no surprise you so easily go from anger to sadness. That's how grief is.

Shinsou is sweet, he has the decency to look away when you start sobbing. The whole classroom suddenly falls very silent, mourning with you.

Between tears, you catch sight of Shinsou's opened notebook. It's plain, and filled with messy scribbles that you find almost illegible. A bitter chuckle escapes you. 

There's a new boy sitting at the desk to your left, but you won't let the one who left be forgotten.

Shinsou doesn't take offense, he's patient by nature; cool like water. You'd prefer the burn of a shooting star, too quickly gone, but you can't blame him when he tries his best to handle your outburst.

"No copying off me then" Shinsou barely assumes his own joke, looking away while rubbing his neck with his hand.

It still makes you snort, wet and ugly. "You wish" You whisper, and the atmosphere of the whole classroom seems to lighten up with your laugh.

After a moment of silence, you gather up the courage to look at him, your new class neighbour, still a little surprise to find violet orbs instead of sharp scarlet ones.

"Welcome to hero course, Shinsou"  You offer those words with a ghost of a smile; utter them between quivering lips. Like an olive branch. A peace sign. A new start.

The smile Shinsou gives you is small but relaxed, genuine yet tinted with a sorrow only the people in this particular classroom can understand.

There's a new boy sitting at the desk to your left. You'll probably never get used to it. A new year will start like nothing changed, yet you know things will never be the same. You'll keep him in your heart; the blazing image of him, forever young, burnt into your brain; with his uniform intact, his tradmark sulky frown in place and your pen in his hand.