Hey everyone!I know I've been MIA for about two weeks (so sorry!), but work had me super busy. I'm aiming to get back on track with regular uploads—hopefully every Friday or Saturday. Thanks for sticking around! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!
Dabi's POV
I placed my hands carefully on her back, almost hesitantly, as if she might shatter under my touch. "I hoped so much you wouldn't betray me, and you didn't," she murmured, looking up at me. Her face was blank, but there was something in her eyes—a glimmer of hope, maybe. It was like bringing those kids back from the brothel had sparked something in her, something that had been dormant. She didn't have that dead look in her eyes anymore. They sparkled.
"It was nothing..." I muttered, suddenly feeling awkward. I wasn't used to this—praise, appreciation, whatever this was. A warm feeling spread in my chest, a sensation I didn't particularly want but couldn't shake. It was crawling its way down to my gut, but I fought it off, even though it felt good. But despite that, I didn't really want to let her go. I was stuck in this moment, torn between the warmth and the unfamiliarity of it.
Then I noticed the three idiots staring, completely dumbfounded. Their faces were priceless—shocked, maybe a little jealous, probably because Aya was huggingme, not them. They weren't her hero today. And, well, I couldn't resist. My hands slid down her back, giving her butt a squeeze. I stuck my tongue out at them, enjoying their horror. Their eyes went wide, faces pale as if they'd just witnessed the end of the world.
"Let's not do that," Aya muttered, clearly irritated, as she stepped away from me, brushing off the unwanted touch.
"Should we beat him up for that?" Eijiro asked, his eye twitching with irritation.
"No, it's fine. Let's just enjoy the rest of the evening," she said, turning to the others. They sighed, starting to take off their shoes in the hallway, while Izuku and Katsuki had already dashed into the living room.
"Why aren't you coming in, Dabi?" Aya called over her shoulder, looking back at me.
"Got stuff to do, gotta head out soon," I mumbled, trying not to sound as down as I felt. It was a lie, of course. I wanted to stay, but something about this whole setup felt off.
I didn't belong here.
Eijiro, Denki, and Mineta had already disappeared into the other room, leaving just me and Aya in the hallway. She walked back over, standing close, her face inches from mine. She looked into my eyes, and for a moment, it felt like she was seeing something I wasn't ready to show.
"But I need you here. I can't control those brats on my own," she murmured, her voice almost pleading.
"You want me to help you babysit?" I raised an eyebrow, unable to hide the skepticism.
"Yeah... They at least listen to you. Maybe they're just scared of you... whatever it is, they behave when you're around," she replied, rising slightly on her tiptoes, her lips hovering tantalizingly close to mine.
And there it was again, that damn temptation to cross a line, to take what I wanted.
"But you know I don't do anything for free," I muttered, almost as an afterthought, letting the words linger with a sigh that teetered between sincerity and mockery.
"Oh? You're charging for babysitting now?" Aya shot back, her words clipped, eyes narrowing just enough to make me reconsider pushing too hard.
"I'm a dreadful miser. Thought you'd figured that out by now," I replied, letting a sly grin creep up on my face. A gentleman's approach? Nah, that ship sailed a long time ago. And Aya? She was the iceberg in that little metaphor, waiting to gouge the hull if I got careless. Still, I wanted her, and if exploiting this odd little game we had was the ticket, well…all aboard.
She didn't flinch, but I could tell she was reading between every line. Aya had this way of watching—like a cat sizing up prey but not hungry enough to pounce just yet. Her fingers hooked onto my belt, pulling me closer until the thrill ran ice-cold up my spine. It wasn't fear; it was a dirtier, darker excitement. That look she gave, half irritated and half cruel, was one of her most appealing features.
"You really are awful," she purred, dragging out each syllable like she was testing me. The false sweetness of her voice was all decoration, like a blade with pretty engravings.
"I know," I answered, mimicking her drawn-out delivery.
She leaned in, her breath brushing my ear. "What do you want?" she whispered, the question itself hanging heavy with implications.
Ideas? I had plenty. Ideas I didn't think she'd humor for long, so I proposed something more subtle—a compromise of sorts.
"You could visit me sometime," I said, holding her gaze without blinking. It was the right blend of straightforward and suggestive—an offer she could accept without admitting anything out loud. Aya sighed, her patience cracking just enough to let the exasperation show.
"Fine..."
Victory, or something like it. Maybe I could've pushed harder, twisted the knife just a little more. But you know, greed isn't merely about claiming everything at once—sometimes, the real thrill lies in cherishing the smaller, more painful victories, "Deal."
Aya released her grip, putting distance between us like the moment was suddenly suffocating. "But don't get any ideas. I'm just visiting, nothing more," she said, her tone flat as she stepped into the hallway. I followed her, closing the door with a finality that made me a little too eager to kick off my shoes.
"Naturally," I replied, the sarcasm heavy enough to be unmistakable. I slipped an arm around her, almost like testing boundaries she hadn't yet drawn in ink. She tolerated the touch but didn't lean in. It was just Aya, pushing and pulling, always on her terms.
We moved towards the living room, and I felt the need to poke the bear just a bit more. "We'll have a nice time, just the two of us... and maybe a few condo—"
"Oh, shut up," she snapped, shoving me off before we even made it past the threshold.
She hated when I tried to paint our mess as anything more. I could tell I was pushing my luck, spinning the narrative too far, too soon. But I couldn't resist. Every step with her was like a game of inches. One wrong move, and I'd lose, but the thrill? The thrill was worth every stumble.
Aya and I crammed ourselves onto the carpet with the others, crowded around the small coffee table. Too many bodies in too little space. Denki, the perpetual idiot, wedged himself on my left, while Aya sat on my right. No complaints there. She'd been sticking close to me all night, probably trying to keep me from doing something reckless—just like Izuku was hovering over Katsuki, playing babysitter. Ochaco sat beside Aya, lost in her own world.
In the center of the table, a bowl of candy sat like some kind of peace offering, but it felt like a trap. Aya, of course, had to choose a lollipop. She fumbled with the wrapper, a sigh of frustration escaping her lips. "You do it. I'm out of patience," she muttered, holding it out like some fragile offering.
Without a word, I bit the wrapper off, not bothering to be delicate. She immediately popped it into her mouth, the way someone desperate for a cigarette would. The sight of her sucking on it stirred something ugly in my gut—jealousy, maybe? It didn't make sense. Why would I care? But the bitter feeling gnawed at me, the same one I'd had earlier during that phone call. That ugly emotion I didn't wanted to acknowledge. After all, I convinced myself, all I really wanted was to take out my frustrations on her now and then, in the messiest ways. To exploit her body and her feelings, using them for my own twisted satisfaction and desires. And maybe, if she proved herself good enough, I'd persuade her to join us—the League of Villains. But still, the sight of her sucking on that stupid lollipop in front of these idiots got under my skin in ways I couldn't explain. Why the hell was I jealous?
"Look at him, staring like a pervert," someone muttered. It snapped me out of the trance. I didn't even realize I'd been staring so long.
"I don't even wanna know what filth is going through his head," came another voice—Mineta, naturally. My eyes darted to him, and he just smirked.
"Shut up," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. The room had gone weirdly quiet, probably because of my presence. Ochaco unwrapped a piece of candy, the crinkling sound grating against my nerves.
"Are we just gonna sit here eating candy all night, or what?" Katsuki grumbled, his voice breaking the awkward tension.
"I'm starving too," Eijiro added, his stomach growling in agreement.
"We could order pizza," Izuku suggested, ever the mediator. "What do you think?"
The murmurs of agreement followed, but before any decision could be made, Aya's phone rang, cutting through the conversation like a blade. She answered, and the name on the screen—"Mr. Aizawa"—was enough to silence the room again.
"Good evening, Mr. Aizawa," Aya said cautiously, her voice tense as if everyone around us was holding their breath. The lollipop dangled in front of my nose, still clutched in her hand, and I couldn't resist the urge to obliterate it for her. I didn't want her sucking on that thing any longer. My tongue slid around the lollipop, pulling it into my mouth. Aya shot me a murderous glare, but she couldn't react, not while on the phone. I crunched the candy into pieces, blinking at her provocatively, a smirk creeping onto my lips.
"Yes… everything's fine here," she said into the phone, her voice strained, probably trying to ignore me.
"Fine?!" Katsuki's growl broke through the tension, but before he could start his usual tirade, I smacked him on the head with the remote.
"Shut up, she's on the phone," I hissed.
Katsuki looked like he was ready to kill me, rubbing his head like I'd punched him. Everyone else was too stunned to react. Aya rolled her eyes but kept the conversation going. I leaned closer, pressing my ear to the back of her phone to eavesdrop.
"What just happened? Who else is with you guys?" Aizawa's voice came through, laced with suspicion.
"I-it's nothing, sir. It was just my friend. And Katsuki," Aya stammered, her voice shaky, betraying the irritation in her eyes.
A pause, then Aizawa's voice broke the awkward silence. "Seems like your friend has Katsuki under control."
The words made me uncomfortable. Praise wasn't something I handled well—it felt foreign, like a compliment in a language I didn't understand. I swallowed hard, refusing to let it show.
"Yeah, he's been… helpful," Aya replied, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the table. I could tell she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes again.
"Alright. Take care. Things are under control on our end," Aizawa said, and in the background, the chaos of the city buzzed faintly.
Aya ended the call and tossed her phone onto the table, looking worn out.
"So, where were we?" she muttered. "Pizza?"
"But no one's delivering with all that chaos out there—it's too dangerous," Shoto said, arms crossed as if that settled the matter.
"True," Izuku muttered, leaning back, eyes downcast. "And even if someonewasdesperate enough to deliver, it'd be reckless to put them at risk like that. Not my brightest idea."
"Then we cook," Katsuki cut in, like it was the most obvious solution in the world.
Ochaco, ever the optimist, clapped her hands. "Yeah! We can make our own pizza!"
Aya's expression didn't match the enthusiasm. "You guys wanna do what in my apartment?!" Her voice dripped with irritation, the kind that suggested she'd already pictured the flour disaster in her head.
"Relax," Eijiro said, flashing his grin that was probably meant to be reassuring. "We'll clean up after."
Aya sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples, clearly not buying it. I couldn't blame her—this whole evening was a circus, and she was the unwilling ringleader.
"Maybe we should stick to something simpler? Pizza's gonna leave a mess. Dough, flour... it'll be chaos." I glanced around at the group, my eyes catching Aya's. For a split second, she looked surprised, like she hadn't expected me to back her up. Guess I was full of surprises tonight.
"Good point," Izuku added, nodding thoughtfully. "And we'd have to wait for each pizza to be ready. Not practical."
Katsuki leaned forward, glaring. "Then make suggestions. Supermarkets won't stay open forever."
We all fell silent, the kind of silence that stretched long enough to be uncomfortable. The clock was ticking, the threat of Katsuki's impatience looming over us like a storm cloud.
"Soba," I blurted out... at the exact same time as Shoto.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, there was nothing but mutual disgust.Of coursethat idiot had to have the same idea. Fate had a twisted sense of humor.
"That was seriously weird," Denki mumbled beside me, clearly too dense to pick up on the tension. "Second time today, even." Ochaco's eyes darted between Shoto and me, like she was watching a bomb about to go off.
Shoto scowled, stuffing a piece of chocolate into his mouth like he was trying to smother his irritation with sugar. "Just a coincidence," he muttered, but his voice carried an edge that suggested he wasn't buying his own excuse.
Izuku clapped his hands together, clearly trying to steer things back on track before the tension boiled over. "Any objections to soba?" He looked around the room, but no one dared speak up. Maybe they were all too afraid of Katsuki snapping, or maybe they were just too tired to care. Either way, there was a collective murmur of agreement.
"Soba it is," Izuku declared, settling the matter with the finality of a judge delivering a verdict.
I leaned back, glancing at Aya as she stood up and walked over to a cabinet. "Guess we'll need to go shopping then," I said, half-expecting her to throw another annoyed look my way.
"Yeah, definitely. I don't have enough for this many freeloaders," she replied, pulling out a small notebook and pen. There was something oddly charming about the way she handled it—awkwardly, like she wasn't used to the motions.
"900 grams of buckwheat noodles, 1.5 liters of sauce, a pack of nori sheets..." She started jotting down the list, her dark hair falling into her face as she thought. There was something about the way she stood there in her little black skirt, the concentration on her face as she scribbled, holding the pen like a crab trying to work a wrench. It was… amusing.
"So, that should be enough," Aya muttered, ripping the page from her notebook with a casual flick of her wrist. Her tone was flat, detached.
"Who's going to get the groceries?" she added, waving the paper like a banner no one wanted to catch.
"I will," Izuku said, standing up a bit too fast, like he needed to escape the tension in the room. Ochaco followed him, her movements less hurried but equally eager.
"It's probably useful if I come along. That way, we won't have to carry any bags." She smiled, her words edged with practicality. Right, the girl could make things float. Probably a solid plan, given the current mess.
Aya handed them the list and her bank card without even looking up, her mind already elsewhere. The two students slipped out the door, the silence closing in behind them.
She let herself fall back onto the carpet next to me, and we spent the next moments watching the spectacle unfold on TV. My team wreaking havoc, while the Pro Heroes scrambled like headless chickens. It was almost poetic, seeing their perfect world crack under the weight of our Nomus. The students watched too, eyes wide, but no one dared comment. I could see the fear settling in, the slow realization that the "heroes" weren't as cool as they thought.
Twenty minutes crawled by before the doorbell rang. Izuku and Ochaco returned, groceries in tow—or rather, floating beside them as they shuffled into the kitchen. Aya followed them without a word, vanishing into the kitchen. They were gone for a bit, and the quiet that hung in the air was thick, suffocating.
"Aya said you should come to the kitchen," Izuku said, sitting down next to Katsuki.
I pushed myself off the carpet and made my way to the kitchen. Aya stood by the stove, a large pot of water in front of her, her back turned to me.
"You called for me?" I asked, though the tone of her body language suggested this wasn't exactly a request.
She didn't look up. "Can you get the water to boil faster?" She was already unpacking noodles, her movements methodical.
I grinned, leaning against the counter. "Icould, but you know the rules. It's give and ta—"
A wooden spoon hit me in the stomach with a dull thud, cutting off my sentence. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make the message clear.
"Cut the crap and make the water boil," she snapped, her eyes sharp and impatient.
I rubbed the spot, more out of habit than pain. "Fine." Placing my hand against the pot, I raised the temperature until the water bubbled violently. Aya watched, unimpressed, and dropped the noodles in with deliberate care.
We worked in silence for a while, side by side. I helped with the sauce, stirring while she added ingredients, the rhythm of it almost comforting, though neither of us would ever admit it. Before long, dinner was ready.
"Do you like the noodles warm or cold?" Aya asked, her voice clipped as she poured the noodles into a strainer.
"Cold," I grabbed the bowls from the cabinet. She ran cold water over the noodles before serving them on a large plate. I watched her for a moment, the way her movements betrayed a hint of care underneath that sharp exterior. Why was she preparing the noodles to my preference? Maybe there was a shred of decency in that little beast after all, buried beneath that mean, hard shell.
The rest of the evening turned out better than expected, which in itself felt wrong. We sat on the floor, bowls of cold soba in hand, the room filled with idle chatter. For a fleeting moment, it reminded me of something long buried—nostalgia creeping in like an uninvited guest. It was a good memory, sure, but the kind that only served to remind me of how far things had fallen apart. Aya's cooking was flawless, but the familiar taste pulled me back to a past I'd rather forget, especially withhimsitting at the table. Shoto had no idea I was his older brother. The idiot didn't recognize me at all, and that was a blessing. Ignorance, in this case, was bliss. Everything had its time. Revenge, for instance, was a dish best served cold, like tonight's soba. For now, I had to play nice, keep the mask on.
The students, to their credit, cleared the table and did the dishes. By the time they were finished, my shirt had been returned to me, pristine and white as if the chaos of the evening hadn't touched it. While they busied themselves in the kitchen, Aya and I sat in front of the TV, follwoing the live broadcast from Tokyo further. Pathetic. The Pro Heroes had managed to defeat our Nomus again, and the city's chaos was beginning to settle. Shigaraki would throw another tantrum over the failure, and I'd have to endure his endless whining tomorrow night. The idea was almost comical, but the joke had worn thin. Each failure was starting to taste the same:stale and bitter.
But then there was Aya, her head resting on my shoulder, and for some reason, that simple act kept me grounded. I glanced down; she looked exhausted. A sigh escaped me, long and slow, draining the last bit of venom I'd planned to use tonight. Not much sport in tormenting someone when they're already running on fumes. Despite my reputation, I wasn't heartless—just selective with my cruelty.
As the evening wound down, the students began making plans to leave, organizing themselves into groups based on their routes home. Kabukichō wasn't the safest place, after all. I followed suit, slipping on my coat and boots in the hallway.
"It was fun with you guys," Aya clasped her hands together, the smile plastered on her face so fake it was almost impressive. "But let's never do this again."
Katsuki snorted as he struggled to get his boot on. "Tell that to your half-burned boyfriend. We're only here because his loser friends want to play villains."
I shot him a glare, but before I could respond, Aya beat me to it. "He'snotmy boyfriend," she growled through clenched teeth.
Ochaco scratched the back of her head awkwardly. "I think we'll be showing up here more often than you'd like, Aya."
"I wouldn't recommend that," I muttered, leaning against the wall, my hands shoved deep into my pockets.
Denki snorted, slipping on his jacket. "Don't act so high and mighty, weirdo."
Aya rolled her eyes. "Can you guys stop sniping at each other? It's getting old."
I didn't bother responding, just let the words hang in the air like smoke.
"I don't even get what you see in that guy, Aya," Eijiro muttered as he fixed his hair in the mirror.
"Yeah, Aya's a total freak for riding that," Mineta chimed in, his tone laced with crude curiosity, eyes narrowed in my direction.
The air shifted, thick with an almost tangible menace. Aya's glare was sharp enough to cut through bone. I thought she was about to snap, quirk flaring up, ready to unleash on Mineta's sorry existence. Izuku, wide-eyed, slapped a hand over Mineta's mouth, muffling whatever suicidal drivel he was about to spew next.
"You don't joke about stuff like that," Izuku said, forcing a smile that barely masked his panic.
What a bunch of idiots. I couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out.
"Anyway, it was an… interesting evening," Shoto muttered, stepping out of the apartment with his usual deadpan delivery.
Izuku followed, dragging a reluctant Mineta. "Yeah, it was cool hanging out with you guys," he added, trying to sound upbeat despite the mess we'd just waded through.
"Let's throw another party soon, but maybe without hookers and villains next time?" Eijiro chimed in, finally satisfied with his hair as he followed the group out.
The others mumbled their goodbyes, gathering outside near the door. Katsuki was the last one standing near me, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"Katsuki, where are you?" Denki's voice echoed from the outer hallway.
Katsuki didn't move. He just stared at me, his eyes calculating. "Aren't you leaving too? You're already dressed," he said, his tone almost accusatory.
I gave a lazy wave toward the door, a sly grin creeping across my face. "After you."
"Tch." He started to walk, but his pace annoyed me, so I kicked him out the door, hard enough to send him stumbling forward. I slammed the door shut behind him, ignoring the loud banging and muffled shouting that followed. Like the underworld had opened and wanted its souls back.
"What are you up to now?" Aya's voice cut through the noise, unimpressed as usual. She stood in front of me, arms crossed, her expression flat.
I stepped in closer, positioning myself just inches from her, looking down. "I wanted to talk to you… alone," I said, grabbing her cheeks with one hand, forcing her to look up at me. Her wide eyes met mine, and for a moment, I could feel her pulse quicken.
"Why aren't you going to work anymore? And don't lie. I've been watching you," I said, tightening my grip on her cheeks. Aya's pupils dilated—she hadn't seen this coming.
"I… I was suspended for what happened in the park," she muttered, her voice shaky as she tried to push my hand away. But my grip stayed firm.
"Suspended?" I repeated, my voice dripping with disbelief. "You took down a Nomu on your own, Aya. You even managed to trickme. They would've needed someone like you today in Tokyo. They wouldn't leave you sitting here playing babysitter, no matter what kind of 'suspension' you're under." Aya's quirk wasn't something the Pro Heroes or the government would just bench during a crisis like today. The fact that she was stuck at home made no sense. The whole ordeal reeked of suspicion, and I hated it when things didn't make sense.
Aya swallowed, clearly trying to find an answer that wouldn't make things worse. "It couldn't be helped. What do you want me to say?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her hands trembling as they tried to free her face from my grasp.
I pushed her lightly against the wall, one hand bracing beside her head, "Couldn't be helped? Or maybe it wasn't just your Hero license that got suspended..." My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as I leaned in closer. "You're quirkless right now, aren't you?"
Her eyes widened, the fear in them unmistakable.I'd hit a nerve.
"You're really something..." Aya muttered, swallowing hard, her gaze flickering between defiance and distress.
I grinned, rubbing my chin. "Look at that, so you really are quirkless, huh? I wonder what Shigaraki and the others would think of that." My chuckle was low, the threat hanging in the air.
Aya's expression shifted. Gone was the fear, replaced by a deadly calm. "Go ahead, tell them. You think I'm afraid of you guys?" Her voice was steady now, cold, calculated—the real Aya, Crimson Blade, finally coming to the surface again. She tapped my forehead with each word, her frustration boiling over. "Call your little circus troupe. You'll see what I'll do to you all." It was like watching an angry cat puff up, ready to claw your face off.Amusing, but deadly.
I couldn't help it; I laughed. "Calm down, princess. I was just messing with you." I ran a hand through my hair, letting the act drop slightly. "I'll keep it to myself if…you behave," I said, leaning in, my smirk widening.
"You fool, I—" she started, reaching for my hair, but I was faster. I grabbed her wrists, pinning her hands to the wall in one swift movement, and before she could say another word, I kissed her. Our tongues fought for control, breaths heavy as my mind spun into chaos. My body burned with an insatiable desire for Aya, the madness grew within me, a primal hunger that demanded to be sated. My trousers strained against the growing need, the urge to claim Aya, to ravage her against the damn wall. Gripping her leg and lifting it up, I pressed my abdomen against hers, the sudden movement caught her off guard, her lips parting from mine in surprise. But I would not relent. My fingers found her face once more, forcing her back into the kiss, swallowing her whimpers of uncertainty.
Her hands upon my chest were a tantalizing mystery. Were they trying to push me away or pull me closer? The distinction blurred, lost in the haze of lust that clouded my mind. I needed her to touch me, to grip me, to scratch me, hurt me - anything to keep her hands on my body. Pain or pleasure, I didn't care, as long as her hands remained on me. My hand trailed from her face to her neck and finally came to rest on her chest, firmly grasping her breast. Though small, it fit perfectly in my palm, the softness driving me to the brink of insanity. I was about to lose control entirely, but the pounding and screams from behind the front door grew more aggressive,shattering the moment.
The students... I'd completely forgotten about them. My hands slipped away from Aya, and I broke the kiss, slamming my forehead against the wall next to her head. The cold surface grounded me, but the rush of frustration clawed at my nerves. Aya's heart was still hammering against my chest, her breaths coming fast, almost in sync with mine—a rhythm that threatened to drag me back into that madness.
"Make sure I never have to see those brats in your apartment again," I muttered, my voice low and rough. "They're interrupting us." With a final look at her, I turned and stormed toward the door, ripping it open in one sharp motion. Predictably, they all tumbled into the hallway, like a pile of discarded puppets. "You pigs just can't let me have anything, can you?" I grumbled, my voice dripping with contempt.
"You burnt-out pile of crap! What gives you the right to kick me?!" Katsuki, pinned under the weight of Izuku and Eijiro, shouted, his voice dripping with venom.
"Aya! Are you okay?!" Eijiro's voice was tinged with panic as he tried to push himself off Katsuki's head.
"Why'd you lock us out?!" Izuku demanded, his own attempt to get up only making things worse for Katsuki, who was squirming underneath like a trapped bug.
"GET OFF ME!" Katsuki screeched, wriggling helplessly.
I rolled my eyes, hands sliding into my pockets. "I was just saying goodbye. Man, you guys are annoying."
"And why'd you have to close the door to do that?!" Denki grumbled, sprawled across Mineta like a poorly made sandwich.
Eijiro's panic hadn't subsided. "Don't tell me he threatened you or did something to you!" His voice was frantic, eyes wide as if I'd actually do somethingthatsinister to Aya. What did they even think of me? I wasn't that much of a bad guy... not to her.
I glanced over my shoulder at Aya. She was still leaning against the wall, rubbing the space between her eyes, the entire situation clearly wearing on her. "We just said goodbye," she murmured, her tone flat, drained.
I smirked. "Grown-ups do things differently. You kids wouldn't understand." I stepped on top of the pile of students, making my way to the exit. They groaned under the weight of my boots, but I didn't bother looking down. "See you around, princess," I added, my voice laced with amusement as I headed toward the outer hallway.
The students crowded into the elevator with me, their voices rising as the doors slid shut. Accusations and insults flew from every direction, bouncing off the cramped metal walls. I leaned against the side, letting their words wash over me like meaningless noise. My mind was already elsewhere. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, we spilled into the dimly lit lobby. The noise didn't let up—they kept trailing behind like angry bees as we stepped into the cool Kabukichō night. It was almost funny watching them try to piece me together, each one throwing accusations like stones into a bottomless pit. I just kept walking, hands in my pockets, not bothering to respond. Their voices slowly faded as they split off into groups. I kept moving until their bickering was just an echo, finally getting the silence I'd been craving.
But it wasn't the peace I expected. All the way home, the memory of Aya clung to me like a shadow—her touch, her words, her eyes… everything. No matter how hard I tried to shake it off, she haunted me. I didn't wanted to feelthis, whatever it was. I wanted to reject it, toburn it. But the more I tried, the more she lingered, wrapping herself around my thoughts...
Much love for reading! Stay tuned for the next chapter!