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chisaki kai - kiss goodbye

nobody by mitski
honk thanks for 5k+ reads!

CW: pain.

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I remember...

The day I met him.

I sat by the window reading a book, trying my best to not fall asleep.

That didn't work out.

My eyelids grew heavier, my head slowly lowering onto the railing. As I dozed off, my grip on the book loosened. It flew down, pages flapping in the wind. That was when it hit him, the mysterious individual, square in the head.

They looked visibly confused, and most certainly was annoyed. I mean, who would expect a book to hit you on the head when you walk by?

He looked up, trying to figure out where the book fell from. That's when he saw a sleeping figure, me, with their hands slightly out of an open window.

His frown softens. With the help of his quirk, he lifted himself up till he was standing in front of me.

I was, by then, half-asleep, so I was still aware that someone or something was in front of me.

He steps into the room, careful not disturb me. one hand on my waist, the other on my IV drip stand, he led me back to my bed. He laid me down gently, slightly adjusting my hospital gown before draping the blanket over me.

Placing the book on the table next to the bed, he got ready to leave.

that was when I asked him, "Are you... an angel?"

He stopped in his tracks, slightly surprised. Yet, he gave no reply, climbing out of the window once again.

I woke up the next day, slightly confused as to why I was in bed. That's when i remembered what happened. I remembered him, that dashing masked man. And I never got his name.

I turned to my left where my book was, only to find a note on top of it.

「

i'm not an angel.

」

There was no name written, but I knew who it was from.

The next few days, I hung out near the window more often, hoping for another glimpse of him. I wanted to thank him. I wanted to know more about this curious stranger. Yet, there never seemed to be a sign of him anywhere.

I was giving up on hope, slowly resigning to the fact that i'd likely never see him again.

At least the note could be a kind of keepsake.

To my surprise, he paid me a visit, just over a week after the whole incident happened.

There he stood, near the door, with his hands behind his back. He spoke not a single word, but I was so happy to see him. you could even say that I missed him.

I sat at the edge of my bed, excitedly bombarding him with questions. From 'what's your name?' to 'are you sure you're not an angel?'.

He answered all of my questions patiently, not the least bit annoyed. Though, he did avoid all questions about his job. I didn't mind; it's not my place to ask him such personal questions.