Today is a normal day. Yes.
It's smack dab in the middle of summer, so the airconditioning in the cafe is set on full blast. The shop is filled with people escaping the sun's intensity with their orders of iced tea and soda to quench their thirst and quell the heat. The line to the counter is long enough to almost reach the door, but the people with tables are scarce in the establishment. And there you are, sitting in your designated spot at the end of the café, near the window where prying eyes do not reach, taking a sip of your favorite green tea latte. Unlike the people in queue, your shoulders shiver. Today is a normal day.
What's out of the ordinary, you note, is the red box in your bag. You never bring the red box. It isn't supposed to be there. It should be in the place it had been for almost a year now- in your bedside table's drawer.
The wind chimes on the cafe door suddenly ring, and you shift your gaze from your perpetually clenching-unclenching hands to the entrance. The sigh you release is one of relief when you noticed it isn't anyone you know who had entered. But your comfort is short-lived when the chimes ring in succession. With the second sound, you spot a flash of red, and all too soon, your hands stop their fidgeting, and your mouth ceases sipping.
"Y/N!" he calls. You don't know if the sun's rays are able to pass through the door as well, but you close your eyes because, for a moment, the sight is blinding.
"Ei," you respond meekly before standing up to greet him. Kirishima wraps you in his arms and places a chaste kiss on your forehead.
The ease at which he does this is comforting. His mastery of the act shows the six years of your relationship, and you melt further into his embrace. Your hands unconsciously fist his jacket and your arms tighten their grip. He is warm, your mind notes. You inhale his scent, and you recognize the musky aroma. You breathe in deep for a second time.
When he starts to let go, you wonder if he notices the way your hands hesitantly unfurl his jacket. Like a vicious game of tug-of-war, yours is a vice grip. Your hold would start to burn and hurt, but when you manage to separate, you regret not holding on for a bit longer.
"So, what's up? You almost gave me a heart attack earlier! It's pretty weird for you to call at 2 am," Kirishima inquires as you two take your seats.
"Ei, I have news," you want to say, but the words are stubborn as they refuse to come out. You figure you must look weird just sitting there with your mouth agape because Kirishima is starting to raise his eyebrows. The words you practiced over and over in front of the mirror are not coming out of your mouth, so you take a sip of your latte in the hopes of washing your dry throat.
At the sixth sip, you couldn't taste the green tea anymore. Now, you're just sucking in too much that the only thing you're taking in is air. So you stop. Instead, you find your hands opening your bag and clutching something wrapped in velvet. Your hands weigh it, deciding that it is heavier than you expected. You pull it out and lay it on top of the table, pushing it towards Kirishima.
You want to look away, afraid of watching what kind of face he makes, but you don't. This is Kirishima Eijirou you're talking about, and everyone knows you can't look away from him. Even after six years, the mere sight of him is able to spread warmth in your chest and make your stomach do backflips. So you see how the smile on his face vanishes, how his eyes widen, how he freezes when he looks at the red box you laid on the table.
"Y/N, what's in the box?"
"You already know the answer to that."
His eyes skitter from the object to your naked hands, back and forth, as if he isn't able to determine whether the image of you separated from the box's content is a reality or not. As if he thinks you would always run to him. As if he had never imagined you would not return his feelings.
Of course, you wouldn't ... because you love him.
"Ei, I know everything. I know what you've been feeling for the past months," you pause for a bit as you close your eyes to recollect your bearings. "Or rather, what you haven't been feeling."
You aren't a religious person by the stretch of it, but at that moment, you gather up your everything and pray to whatever god is listening. Please. Please let me be mistaken. I'll do anything, just let me be wrong.
So when Kirishima looks down, you want to kill yourself for being right.
"I-I," he starts to explain. "I'm sorry." His last syllable is too soft to even be a whisper, but you do not need to hear it to know what it was.
You nearly slap your long-finished latte across the room and flip the table at his answer. You are ready to shout and cause a scene, but you don't. You don't because deep down, you had been expecting this. Weeks of mulling things over and imagining the situation left you prepared. You come to war with a sword and a shield, dammit. So if he thinks I wasn't ready for any of this, then he's-
"I don't love you anymore."
Holy shit.
"I don't know how, but I lost it. I'm crazy aren't I? You always support me. You never judge me. You love me."
It is a punch in the gut. You feel your heart beat so fast and intensely you wonder how your ribcage is still intact. You try to swallow but there isn't anything left to because your throat has already dried up. You want to buy another latte but decide against it. It would taste like sand anyway.
You were prepared, yes. But it didn't hurt any less. Just close your damn mouth, Ei.
"But I can't help it. When I saw you cry, hell, even when you came home with those bruises all over, I didn't feel a thing!"
He is frantic now, his hands all over the place. His eyebrows are scrunched up that you see lines on his face. His gaze switches from the box, to the window, to his feet, to the person on the nearest table. It's like he's looking everywhere but at you, and it makes your heart sink.
"You're perfect, Y/N. I don't deserve you at all."
You want to slap him because he's making that face again. The one he wears on nights he breaks and confesses everything to you. On nights he acknowledges he is manly for crying and weeps in front of you, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck. On nights that now seem so far away. But rather than the memories, what makes you more somber is the fact that he's wearing that face.
"When?" you ask as soon as he finishes. "When did you figure it out?"
The look he makes is now skeptical, so you steel yourself once more. However, the answer he gives is hard to understand. You shake your head because you are sure you misheard him.
"I'm sorry? Did I hear you correctly? Did you just say two years?" your voice is loud enough to make him back away. He nods.
Oh, great. Just when I think I'm ready for everything, he throws a bomb. This is Kirishima Eijirou, alright. But seriously, two fucking years.
You are unaware you had actually said your last line out loud. But it doesn't matter. Not when your heart skips a beat for all the wrong reasons and your eyes begin to sting. As you lean on the table, your hand ascends to wipe your face of that one tear that betrays you.
"Ei," your voice cracks. "we've been engaged for almost a year, and you mean to say you felt nothing for me for two years?"
"A man is supposed to keep his promises, Y/N! I was so determined. I promised you forever, and I needed to see through that obligation. Besides-"
"So I'm an obligation now?" you don't wait for his answer. "Ei, you did promise me, but what about you? What about your happiness? You've been hurting all this time, and I didn't even know! I thought you weren't going to do anything you'll regret?"
No. This isn't what you really want to say. You want to agree. You want him to keep his word. Six years with Kirishima Eijirou isn't enough. You haven't had enough of neither his pranks nor his manly mantras. You haven't had enough of his warmth on your bed and his scent lingering the next morning, you roll on the bed to catch it. You haven't pulled enough pranks on Bakugou and Kaminari, not enough bear hugs and sloppy kisses, heated nights, and even fights that you normally hate. Forever was too inconceivable, but with him, you wouldn't mind the perplexity.
Your mouth moves without you thinking now, and you feel as if your thoughts and your body are different entities.
Kirishima has put up with you for two years, feeling nothing. He has endured the you who keeps on nagging and picking fights. You wonder if he also breaks all alone at the thought of being with you, and you are overcome with guilt. How did you not notice this sooner? How could you not see the soulless glaze in his eyes when knelt down on his knees? How did you look over the fact that his weariness isn't only from fighting villains? How could you let him do this to himself?
There is total silence. Kirishima looks like a lamb asking for directions.
You sigh, "I'm sorry. It's okay, I understand. You don't have to force yourself anymore, Ei. If you want to break up, it's okay."
Your words surprise the both of you. You are sure he is confused at the ease at which you accept things. For another time, there is a stretch of silence that encompasses your table as you await his verdict. For you, never before has the hands of the clock on the wall of the cafe move so slowly yet too quick at the same time.
The way he smiles and eases up makes your lips tremble and your throat burn. It's that easy for him?
"Is it okay?"
No, Ei. Of course it isn't okay.
"It's okay," you smile.
He is pleased with your answer and releases a deep breath. As Kirishima takes the red box in his hands, your mind tells you to grab and take it back. You want to tell him that it doesn't matter if the box is heavy, you'll carry all the weight. But your hands are glued to your lap, so your eyes follow the way in which he carelessly drops it in his jacket pocket.
Both of you stand up as your conversation ends. There is awkwardness as you shift your weight from one leg to the other. And just when you think you couldn't take anymore hurt, he goes and gives you something. It is a stun grenade this time.
"So, this is goodbye?" he asks.
You freeze. Goodbye? With Eijirou?
"I guess so," you almost choke up.
You want to ask for one more hug. Just the last one where you grip him too much to gather enough energy to last you for the rest of your life. But you figure that one more hug will make you ask for one more kiss which will make you ask for some more time because you know Kirishima will give in. Even if it's out of guilt, you want to ask for more. You want to take advantage of his good nature and beg him to give you another chance.
"You should leave first, Ei. I mean... Kirishima-kun," your tongue tries to say the word. The feeling of saying that name is now foreign because he has been Eijirou for the past six years. "I still need to wait for my food."
His smile isn't a grin anymore. It is much softer, and you could understand what he's trying to say- Thank you, I'm sorry.
"Okay, then. Let's see each other sometimes... as friends."
You don't know how you manage to do it, but your face lights up. "Sure!"
He's walking away now. His jacket is lopsided, the box surely weighing the other side.
Ei, do you know? I'm the one who doesn't deserve you.
When he goes out of the cafe, you stay standing for a bit longer before ordering another serve of green tea latte. The cashier is looking at you weirdly. Is he sad?
When you sit down again and look at your reflection in the window, you notice your cheeks are colored wrongly. You bring your hands to your cheeks. It is water. You are crying. No wonder he was looking at me like that.
No matter, you brought sunglasses.
Today is not a normal day, you correct yourself. Tomorrow will be the start of normal. Yes, tomorrow. You'll just have to be patient and wait for tomorrow.