"Don't let me go."
"Don't worry, I won't ever let you go. I promise."
Ikari's scar is the first thing that people notice. And it drives them away, since it is the symbol of her father, one of the most feared villains of all time... before he died.
...
"You are so very wrong if you think that."-- Hebinoya Ikari
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*warning: slight swears
POV— Hebinoya Ikari
Fireworks
Don't let me go.
Seeing him like this puts a hole in my heart.
It's funny.
Only a few months before, seeing someone at the brink of
breaking would have spurred, at most, a sympathetic glance.
Now I can't bear it.
Don't let me go.
I lead Shoto to a clearing that isn't far from the crowds— it only blots out the stream of conversation. A patch of grass lays near a sea of bushes, casting a shadow in the moonlight. Only small lights penetrate the thick leaves as small cicadas chant in the darkness. Above me, a firework goes off in the air, showering us in temporary red light.
I look back at Shoto, still glassy-eyed and silent, as we finally come to a stop at the center of the clearing. When I let go of his hand, and it falls limply to his side.
Are you alright? You'll be okay, right?
I switch the words around, hoping that one combination will somehow make him feel better— but none of them fits. It become apparent to me that no words I have in mind can make him feel better. His eyes aren't on mine, darting left and right behind me, like he searching to look at anything but me. Another firework goes off— this time, a vibrant green.
"I..." I take a deep breath, unsure of how to him. He's always managed to comfort me. Why can't I do the same to him? Unworthiness creeps up in me as I mouth a few words, uncertain if it sounds right on my tongue. "I'll be here," I test, wondering if he will respond. His eyes do not move. "Whether you want me here or not."
I continue to hope he will meet my eyes, but his gaze stays above me. I hesitate again. "You can talk to me if you want, but if you don't that's fine too. I'll just... be here."
These words finally breaks his trance. Shoto grimaces, his eyes still fixated on whatever is behind me, his face bathed in yellow as another firework goes off with a pop. A part of me cannot believe we are having such a conversation when fireworks are going off above us. We should be celebrating, not hidden in a clearing wondering if the other truly loves them.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Shoto's gaze rests on my face.
"I'm sorry." It is a near whisper, the breeze of a wind.
I haven't have a clue of what he's sorry about. "About what?"
"I don't..." he frowns, "I don't look very nice, do I?" He points to his scar, a blotch of red marring his blue eye, now glimmering with tears. "She was right."
