Rough Hands - A T.ShigarakixReader Story

Confession.

You close the door, turning to face Tomura.
You suppose now's the time to revisit the whole pregnancy talk. He wasn't in pain anymore, and it was the first time you'd both been properly alone in quite some time.
He regards you for a brief moment before turning around and making his way to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, and throwing his crutches off to the side.
"I hate those things." He grumbles, his red eyes sliding over to meet your own.
"You hate everything." You say with a roll of your eyes, taking in the room.
It was a decent size, a big bed up against the corner of the room, a bedside table next to it. There was a small sofa and TV on the other side of the room. There even appeared to be an en suite. It was an incredible upgrade from the places you'd all been making do with for months before. He really hadn't been lying when he said about it being the best room.
You're mindlessly running your fingers over the TV, looking to see if there was even any dust in the room when Tomura speaks up again.

"I don't hate you."

You scoff immediately, the noise leaving you before you have time to catch it and you immediately regret it when Tomura's eyes narrow.
"What?" He nearly hisses.
"Well, you usually do nothing but tell me how you do hate me, so y'know..."  You reply, your words getting less and less strong as your sentence goes on.
You begin avoiding his direct eye contact, looking down at the TV with fake thoughtfulness.
You're almost kicking yourself for inevitably starting an argument the second you're both alone, but you had a point. Even if you knew he hadn't truly meant it every time he said it, he still had said it. And it wasn't even once. It was several times. And at one stage he couldn't even have sex with you without saying it at one point.
"I was just confused." He tries to excuse, his voice sounding surprisingly even even if it is an octave lower than usual as he responds.
"Well you kinda can't be confused anymore." You reply bluntly, finally meeting his eyes.
You stare at each other for a good moment or two, neither of you softening your stares for the other. Both of you unrelenting.

"I know. That's why I'm saying it." He says through gritted teeth, clearly struggling to keep his temper back.
"You're not saying anything!" You reply, throwing your hands up in exasperation that you hadn't even realised you'd been holding onto. "You're just admitting to doing the bare minimum of not hating me! Well done!"
"I-" He begins to say, moving to stand and then remembering that his leg is broken and his crutches were currently out of reach.
He's powerless, and you're in control.
"Well done for admitting you don't hate the mother of your child, Tomura. That's a real big step."
You sneer, admittedly on a power trip now you could finally vent your frustrations without an audience, without distractions, and without him being able to move from where he perched on the edge of the bed.
"You don't hate the person that took every single injury you deserved." You say slowly, savouring every word. "You don't hate the one who was only brought home to be a playmate and personal nurse for you."
You're taking steps towards him without even realising at this point, the weight on your shoulders that had been there for so many years finally beginning to lighten with each word that leaves your mouth.

"My whole life has revolved around you, and what you wanted. What Sensei wanted. But boy, I sure am glad to hear that you don't hate me, Tenko."
His birth name slips off of your tongue like venom, and he actually flinches.
Tomura, who had spent three weeks relentlessly fighting a hulk of a man-creature without any sleep. Tomura, who had quite literally destroyed an entire city, flinched.
You're breathing a little heavily by the time you're done, regretfully feeling a little guilty when you see that small flinch flit over his features.
He's smart enough to know to shut his mouth, and seems to be more than willing to do so, his jaw clenching visibly as he regards you with wide, owlish, red eyes.
You take a deep, shaky breath, before stepping away again and sitting on the couch, fighting back tears.
It was things you'd wanted to say for years. It was facts, it was how you'd lived, it was what he needed to hear. Its what you needed to express before the choice was made, before the baby was here and sucked into a world where its mother secretly resented its father.
So why did it feel so awful?
Was it the flinch? Were you just crazy? And nothing you'd been through was really all that bad?

"I love you."

Your face is buried in your hands at this point, and the words are spoken so quietly that you almost think you'd imagined it before frustratedly snapping again.
"Huh?!"
You turn to face him, a sour look on your face that immediately turns into one of surprise when you see a flash of a pink cheek just before Tomura swings his face around so he's looking at the wall in the opposite direction of you.
"You better not be doing that just to save yourself from the argument Tomura." You say thickly, the tears from earlier threatening to spill properly this time.
He doesn't reply, but you see his metal-clad hand tighten in the bed sheets, his adams apple bobbing visible even with how long Tomuras hair had gotten.
He was genuinely nervous. He was embarrassed.
He doesn't turn his head to face you, probably able to feel how intricately you were accessing him from the small distance between you both. 
So you stand.

You approach him, not as slow as before, and stand in front of him, grabbing his chin and turning his face to look at him properly.
His vermillion eyes still refuse to meet yours, staying put on a random patch of wall as his face seems to radiate heat as you stare down at him.
He's acting like a school kid admitting their first crush.
His cheeks are bright pink, only really highlighted by the messy white hair that frames his face.
His jaw is still clenching under the skin of his face, the muscle there flexing noticeably.
His fingers are twitching by his side, a sign of his frustration, anxiety or anger you knew all too well. He wanted to scratch. But he was stopping himself.

You look at him, despite him avoiding looking at you, like some kind of dog that had done something wrong but refuses to acknowledge it, looking carefully over every inch of his face and recollecting everything you had been through together up until this point.
Could you really forgive him? Could you look past how he behaved and try to find only anger in the real crux of the problem?  You were both victims of the same person, after all.
And you didn't want to carry through any resentment for your child to pick up on.
"Tomu. Look at me." You order, tilting his head back and forth slightly with your grip on his chin.
His jaw clenches again, but his eyes do slide to meet your own.
"You love me?" You ask, your voice almost as quiet as his had been when he made his confession.

His throat bobs, his eyes dart away momentarily before he looks back at you, giving a curt nod.
"Yeah." He says, the voice that leaves him almost too soft to be Tomuras.
That's all you needed, your face coming down to catch his lips with your own.