Mha Bnha Anime One Shots

Orphic - Shoto Todoroki

I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, mesmerized by the enigmatic aura that surrounded him. He spoke in a voice that seemed to contain all the secrets of the universe, and I hung on his every word. But as time passed, I realized that no matter how close I got, I could never truly understand him. He remained a mystery, and the more I tried to unravel him, the further he seemed to slip away. And so, with a heavy heart, I had to accept that our love was destined to remain forever elusive and intangible, like a dream that could never be fully grasped.

--

He asked me to meet him at the very bookstore we had first met. And even though I came a little early, he was already sitting at our favourite spot, staring out the window. He hadn't noticed me yet, so I took a moment to truly take him in. His red and white hair delecatly brushed on either sides. I remember the day I casually mentioned my curiosity about how he would look with long hair, and he took it to heart, surpassing all the Greek gods I had ever dreamed of. He was a rare gem, so captivating and enchanting that it felt too good to be true. I could hardly believe that I had him in my life, that he was mine to hold and love.

But, things started to take a huge turn. The more I fell for him, the more distant he got. He never told me why. I couldn't understand why he was pulling away. Was he afraid of being loved? Or perhaps it was something about me. We got in an argument three days ago and haven't talked since until today when he called me to meet up here.

As I approached him, I couldn't help but smile, because looking at him made me realise how much I missed him in these past few days. But, he didn't return my smile back.

"Hi," I greeted him softly, placing my purse down and sliding into the seat across from him.

"Hey," He murmured, his voice devoid of its usual charm.

"I'm sorry for not answering your calls before." He offered a vague apology, his words lacking any real explanation. "I was dealing with some things."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Stuff." He sighed, his response a mere echo of his previous statement.

"Stuff," I repeated silently, frustration creeping into my thoughts.

Of course. "Stuff." Have I mentioned that he never tells me anything that goes on in his life. A major reason why our relationship is breaking is him not expressing himself and not letting me be a part of his struggle and problems. It's not about prying into his every secret, I know that he didn't owe me a detailed account of every aspect of his life but for once, I want to help him, to hold his hand and walk through the depths of oceans he's so scared of. But, he doesn't let me. I know he's trying to protect me but for once, I wish he could let me save him the way he saved me.

"What did you wanna talk about, Shoto." I asked, already knowing the answer.

"I..." He struggled to find the right words, his fingers running through his hair and then clenching into fists, an obvious sign of his stress rising.

Instinctively, I reached out, intertwining my fingers with his, seeking to provide comfort as I had done countless times before. Yet, this time, the gesture failed to ease the tension between us. Instead, it served as a painful reminder of the impending heartbreak.

"I love you so much," He confessed, his voice quivering with vulnerability. "You've shown me love and affection that I believed was beyond my reach. Never once did I imagined I would feel the kind of emotions you made me feel. You showed me what true happiness feels like, and for once, I felt alive with you by my side. It was beautiful, y/n. We were beautiful. You are the woman of my dreams. But..."

"But?" I uttered.

"But," He continued, his voice barely audible, shattering me piece by piece. And then, in a whisper so delicate it seemed as if a fragile porcelain doll might shatter at the sound, he delivered the crushing blow. "That's not enough."

The finality of his words pierced my soul, leaving me broken and lost. "I'm messed up." He admitted, his voice laden with anguish. "I can't move past the trauma I've experienced, and I've started projecting it onto you. I don't want you to carry my baggage, love."

"You're leaving me?" I had to make sure. I had to ask him even though the answer seemed painfully clear.

In his hesitation, I found my answer. His gaze, filled with a mix of sadness and resignation, bore into me with those goddamn eyes that never failed to stir a whirlwind of emotions within me. Did he think so little of the love we shared?

He was doing this, right here, in the very first spot I had first met him.

That day we met, that stupid fucking day, it's as if the memories are etched into my soul. I was engrossed in my book when he appeared beside me. At first, he seemed peculiar, but we struck up a conversation that flowed effortlessly. From that moment, a series of dates unfolded, a coffee date, a movie date, a picnic, and we forged a connection that grew stronger with each passing year. And now, here he was, ending things for forever in the very place where it all began.

The irony was not lost on me. He was inflicting a pain upon me that no other man ever had. It was clear that he believed he was too broken, too damaged, to continue on this path with me.

"I wish things were different." He breathed, his words a fragile whisper that barely reached my ears. "Forgive me, love, for I can never forgive myself."

The resignation in his voice mirrored the heaviness in my heart. His remorse was like a double-edged sword. It acknowledged my hurt, but the weight of his self blame felt like another burden on my already overloaded heart. It was a plea for understanding, a plea for forgiveness. But forgiveness was a distant shore that I could not yet reach. How could he ask me to forgive him when the wound was still raw, when the pain was too fresh to comprehend?

I wanted to interrupt, to interject with reassurances or pleas for him to reconsider, but something within me held me back. I sensed that he needed to speak his truth, even if it meant accepting the reality of our impending separation.

"I know I'm supposed to be the one to understand you. I know I'm supposed to be the last person to hurt you like this but, I can't keep pretending."

"I get it." I cut him off abruptly. "You don't have to keep explaining yourself. I understand."

The sun was setting down which meant it was time to go home. We walked out together in silence and he called a cab for me. The first drops of rain began to fall, a gentle drizzle at first as we found shelter under a nearby shed, not quite knowing how to say goodbye. The world moved on around us, in a blur of passing strangers and hurried footsteps, while we remained locked in a timeless moment and I tried to hold onto to these last moments.

"Your cab is here." He said, gesturing towards the curb where a yellow cab waited patiently.

I nodded once. But just as I was about to enter the cab, he pulled me into an unexpected hug, catching me off guard. It was a desperate grasp for closeness.

Our last hug.

I held onto him one last time as a tear escaped my eye, mingling with the rain on my cheeks. In that moment, I breathed in his familiar scent, my fingers gently running through his soft hair, as if trying to preserve every detail of his essence. His face was buried in my shoulder, his vulnerability palpable, as he whispered those three words that had once held so much promise and hope,

"I love you."

"As I love you." I murmured softly one last time, knowing that even though we weren't endgame, he would still always be here for me.

As the rain continued to drizzle, we remained locked in each other's arms, forever entwined in a bittersweet dance of love and loss. And in the depths of our hearts, we both carried the scars of a love that could never be fully healed.

As we parted, our fingers lingering for a moment longer before finally letting go, and he finally flashed me a smile, easing some of the pain in my chest momentarily.

"Text me once you reach, alright?" He asked, the familiar request slipping effortlessly from his lips, a habitual gesture that had become second nature.

"I will." I smiled, knowing damn well that I won't.

He slammed the door shut. And as the cab began to move, through the rearview mirror, I stole a glance at him, standing there, rain-soaked and waiting until I was out of sight.

And then finally, I went home.