You Can't Lose Me || Shinso x Reader

Chapter 25: What Am I Doing Wrong?

Warnings: mention of suicide and death,

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Shinso's POV

I rest my head against the wall behind my chair while Deku paces around whatever waiting room this is. My mind has been swarming with thoughts and emotions for the past few hours, so I started staring at the horrifically bright lights this police station has and watching the imprint it leaves when I close my eyes move around. Aside from the tapping of Deku's shoes against the tiled floor, it's quiet.

"Is there a Shinso present?"

I raise my head and squint my eyes at the figure who had just walked into the room - I can't quite tell, but it's probably just another officer.

"That's me. Is there something you need me for?" I ask wearily, rubbing my eyes.

"The villain Yomigami has refused to speak to investigators since their capture, but she keeps asking for you specifically. Would you be willing to talk with her?"

As my vision finally clears enough for me to see, I nod in response.

The officer leads me down a hallway or two before we enter a darkened room with multiple investigators conversing with each other. I look around the room to find a few small speakers on a wall and a window below them that reveals (y/n)'s figure restrained and cuffed to a chair, which is sat at the table in the center of the otherwise empty concrete room. Aside from a small lamp or two, the adjacent room appears to provide a majority of the light.

I enter through the door on the opposite end of the glass pane - which I then realize is one-way glass. (y/n)'s head snaps up at the click of the door. Her achingly familiar (e/c) eyes stare up at me, refusing to let me know what's happening behind them. We both remain this way for a minute or two before she looks down to the floor once again.

"What am I doing wrong?" She mutters barely loud enough for me to hear.

"Where do I even start with answering that? Are you really that lost?" I want to cry, and I want to shout everything I'm thinking at her, but I manage to refrain with some effort. "Let's start from the beginning.

"You disappeared and had everyone convinced you were dead; you had convinced me that you were dead, and I though it was my fault. The police had no idea what happened to your body or what caused your disappearance, so when they found evidence of foul play, they labeled it as such and went about their day. It was never certain, however. Your stuff was found in the water beneath a bridge; I thought you ... I thought you killed yourself."

(y/n)'s jaw and shoulders tense, but she refuses to let her expression change.

"I thought that if only I was there to stop you, or if I had just walked you home, this wouldn't have happened. I knew that you were really struggling that day; if I had done just a little bit more, you would've still been alive. I thought that I wasn't a good enough reason for you to want to be alive, that anything I might ever try to do would result in failure, that I was just another problem for you."

"Two high schoolers caught me using my quirk and threw me into the river." (y/n) speaks up slightly, meeting my gaze for another moment before returning it to the ground. "That's not an excuse, just a clarification."

"They held a funeral for you. Did you know that?" I ask as my gut twists at the flooding memories.

(y/n) nods and her expression turns sour.

"Yeah, and you didn't bother show up. You didn't care about me enough to attend. I already knew that. Why are you rubbing it in my face?"

"I didn't not go because I didn't care about you, I didn't go because I didn't have the strength to leave my bed." Though (y/n)'s eyes don't move, her face pales. "The only things I could do for a week were cry, stare at the ceiling, and get small intervals of sleep. I was out of school for a month. I barely ate at all during that time; I was an actual walking stick by the end of the year."

"I'm sorry." (y/n) mumbles.

I can feel my pulse quicken at her response.

"Sorry doesn't do shit! You were the one that didn't care. Your disappearance destroyed me in every way possible, and you didn't care enough to let me know you were still alive."

"I tried! I fucking tried to tell you," (y/n)'s tone mimics my own as she glares at me, "but when I finally gained the confidence to walk up to you on the street, not only did you not notice me, but you were also wearing a uniform for UA - that fancy school for future heroes. You betrayed me. A corrupt system that 'killed' me, and you decided to join it.

"Here you are now, lying to my face about how much you 'mourned' for me, but you were glad to get rid of me. How long were you planning on applying, huh? Did you keep it from me to spare yourself the trouble of how I might react? Tell me: did you send in your application the moment you heard the police report, or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?"

"I wanted to become a hero to prove the system wrong. You had suffered from its prejudice, so I stood face-to-face with the system and defied its every belief. I went to UA, got stronger, and went against the system for both of us. For you."

(y/n)'s eyebrows creased further as I spoke. My throat hurts from the strain, as I'm sure hers is too. I allow both of us to take a few breaths before continuing.

"I understand that you believe that you were doing the same, but what you did only proved them right. 'Your quirk is perfect for a villain,' they would say, and you did just that. I said no, while you bent to their will. That is what you did wrong. What made you think any of this was okay?"

"Every time I was called names or punched or tormented, you were there to take care of me. You were always there to fight them off for me. Neither of our quirks are combat based but you were still strong. I was weak, and I hated it. I despised not being able to do something about it. I was useless." (y/n)'s expression turns serious, and her voice rises again.

"I trained and trained so that one day, I might stand beside you: not cowering behind you, but as an equal. I wanted to fight the system, purge it of its failures for us both. Seems like I somehow screwed that up too."

She still thinks that she's right about this. Is this the influence of that guy she was working with, or is she truly this dense? My jaw stiffens and my hands turn to fists that grip the sides of my hero costume.

"Damn right, you did. You have killed countless people; you have ruined the lives of many good heroes; you have evoked chaos all throughout Japan. And you hurt me."

"Sorry," she says, turning to the side to avoid me for the millionth time.

"Stop saying that! Sorry means nothing now. You can't fix what you've done."

Without another word, I storm out the door, through the viewing room, and out of the building where the sunrise is hidden behind a clouded sky and a cold wind washes over me. Every step tears another rip into my heart. I had lost her, but when I was given the chance to get her back, I walked away. Everything is wrong, but I don't turn back.

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A/N: Now we know what happened from both perspectives. Misunderstandings sure do sting. And as I've said before, this isn't the end.

Word Count: 1350