Cursed [T. Shoto x M!Reader]

Chapter Eighteen: Family

[lol i failed two classes. ANYWAY, i realized all too late that i want this to be a kiri fic instead of shoto, but i'm in too deep now. sadge. Justice for kirishima, im sorry for being so blind]

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Wei shúshu will be there."

Mey gave [Name] a look that said she wasn't entirely convinced, but she refrained from pressing any further. She knew all too well that no matter how many times you ask Hua [Name] if he's okay, he'll always say yes. But there was no harm in asking—no matter how frustrating it could be. After a few seconds, she reluctantly sighed and gave in. Her teal-blue eyes flickered over to the train she'd be taking as she wrung her hands anxiously.

"Okay. Text me when you get there." Her gaze trailed back over to him and she stepped forward to wrap an arm around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. "I'll head over to you guys after I finish the meeting with Principal Nezu and detective Tsukauchi. See you soon, honey."

"Get there safely," [Name] wished. Mey smiled and pinched his cheek affectionately before finally turning to board her train. He watched her wave at him through the window and waved back until the train pulled out of the station and disappeared into the abyss of the tunnel.

There were a lot of people in the train station, although not nearly as many as there were during the early morning (thank god). [Name] tightened his hold on the strap of his duffel bag and chewed on his lower lip a little too hard. Being in such a crowded area always made him antsy, but this time it felt different. He wasn't sure if it was because of... recent events or if it was just a figment of his imagination.

'Get a grip,' [Name] scolded himself weakly. In reality, he couldn't bring himself to care about constantly maintaining his composure like he used to. Does it even matter anymore? Truly, what difference did it make?

His own train pulled into the station after a short while and he quietly got on. The rest of his way to Zhenyu's dojo was uneventful, which he was grateful for. Although he slept relatively well and nightmare-free, he was still feeling restless. He always found that odd—how someone can get a full 10 hours of rest and still be tired.

If it hadn't been for that meeting that she had with Principal Nezu and Mr. Tsukauchi, Mey would've stuck by his side for the entire day. Luckily, he didn't have to be there since they were just going to discuss some new arrangements. [Name] didn't want to be anywhere near U.A. at the moment (or anything that reminded him of heroics, especially his classmates), but he also didn't feel comfortable being alone, so he opted to swing by Zhenyu's dojo. Hopefully he could distract himself while he was there. Being alone with his own thoughts never seemed to end well for him.

When he finally reached the dojo and stepped inside, he was immediately met with the familiar chatter that followed a class. [Name] again squeezed the strap of his bag as an unsettling pit of anxiety stirred awake in his gut. He stood at the entrance for a few seconds, slowly gathering his confidence and stalling for time by texting Mey to let her know he got there safely. Eventually, he mustered up the courage to walk further in and prayed that he didn't catch anyone's attention. The only person he was mentally prepared to talk to was Zhenyu, and he was currently busy teaching a class.

Not wanting to get in the way, [Name] walked around the back of the room and briefly made eye-contact with his Sanda instructor. His stomach churned as he bowed his head a little in silent greeting and made a beeline for a bench in the corner. He set his bag down and winced when he collapsed heavily into the seat, a few students turning their heads at the mild disturbance.

Zhenyu, who was standing at the front of the room and guiding his students, excused himself momentarily as everyone began to practice incorporating the new move he taught them. His gaze darted around the room and quickly found that familiar head of [blonde, black, etc.] hair, which he immediately made his way towards.