daylight || mha

[ thirty-one ] sincerity

a/n: tw for mention and graphic description of scars, stay safe my loves <3

~*~

"telling myself i won't go there, oh, but I know that i won't care, tryna wash away all the blood i've spilt"

~*~

I trust her.

He didn't know where exactly that thought had come from. There were more than enough reasons not to. Everything rational he had ever learned about heroes, villains and everything that distinguished the two, spoke against her and yet, he couldn't explain what made her different. He just knew that she was. If there was a tightrope tensioned over heroes and villains he couldn't say as of now where on either side she would fall. Right now it seemed as though she was gracefully stepping over the tightrope with no clear indentation of where she leaned toward the edge. More surprising was however, how little it mattered to him.

He had trusted her in the ambulance. He hadn't seen anything else, but her strikingly violet eyes. Even though he knew now what they meant, he couldn't help but still feel enticed by the purple storm that was caged beneath the grey. He had seen a glimpse of it in that split second of consciousness in the ambulance. It confused him. More than anything, he wished that he could hate her. That he could condemn her for her wrongdoings like he had the Sludge Villain and everyone involved in the U.S.J. But he couldn't.

He had left prematurely that night. He had wanted to find out more about her, but he knew that if he had stayed, his anger would have gotten the better of him. Whether he had left because he didn't want to let it out on her or whether he just hadn't wanted her to see him fall victim to his weakness, he could discern entirely. It hadn't occurred to him then, that it could even have been a little of both. Either way he knew that he didn't know half as much about her as he had wanted to find out and he intended on changing that. As soon as he wasn't in the hospital anymore.

There was a sudden cold spike in his arm, but it was strangely pleasant. It flowed into his entire arm and slowly filled his veins. The feeling was familiar and he could immediately place it. He opened his eyes, scooting up on his hospital bed. He had trouble adjusting to the bright light at first, but as soon as he turned his head to the left, he saw her. For once she was not sitting pin straight, staring absently into the distance. She sat in a chair right next to his bed, leaning toward it with her eyes closed. If he hadn't seen her chest rise and fall ever so slightly, he would have thought her dead.

She looked strangely peaceful when she slept. He had noticed it before, too, when she had fallen asleep on the bus leaning on Shitty Hair's shoulder. It was like whenever she slept, her guard fell just ever so slightly. Allowing her to, for a moment, appear as human as everybody else. He noticed her arm that was resting on his hospital bed right next to him. Her fingertips were still slightly shimmering in that uncanny purple that gave away the activation of her quirk. He could still feel the cold against his skin that he had come to associate with the few moments his skin had come into contact with hers.

She must have activated it subconsciously while she was asleep. He didn't feel the need to flinch away from her, though. Beneath her unconscious touch that could take his life in the the blink of an eye, he had never felt safer. On the contrary, it felt more so like her touch was alleviating the discomfort that came with the aftermath of his surgery. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought that she had unconsciously activated her quirk to heal him. However, he doubted that to be true. And yet, he had no way to explain to himself why she had chosen to fall asleep in the chair next to his bed, when she had a perfectly fine hospital bed to rest in. Confused as he was, he would never admit, that he didn't find it in himself to dislike the idea of her choosing the chair over her bed.