Play Nice (Tomura Shigaraki x Reader)

Chapter 16: Relapse

"Hey everyone!" Mirio announced, "Buffet's ready! Go ahead and line up!"

She hazarded a look back to Shigaraki's booth as she made her way over to the buffet line. He and Miko hadn't moved an inch at the lunch announcement, too preoccupied with clearly flirtatious conversation. They were both smiling, Miko with that coy little pout she'd seen win over boys at least a thousand times and Shigaraki with an even more familiar cocky spread. The type of grin she'd seen him wear only when he was truly amused.

And when she thought about it, one that she'd only seen him wear when he was with her.

The realization struck an ache through her chest that she thought she'd finally gotten rid of today. The longer she watched the scene, the more it hurt. And yet she couldn't look away. It was like a part of her was desperately hoping that this was just some long comedy sketch, she just needed to wait for the punchline.

Miko giggled at something Shigaraki said, then looked away with a blush. He said something else that had her squealing and smacking playfully at his forearm resting on the table. He said her name — her first name, she could clearly read "Miko" on his lips. She turned back to him, and he wagged his pointer finger in a come-hither gesture. She leaned in, but he encouraged her even closer, until he could easily press his nose into the perfect waves of her hair, to whisper something. And devastatingly, it still wasn't getting funny.

This was becoming a car crash in front of her instead, becoming more unbearable to watch as bodies were pulled from the wreckage. She had to finally look away, she was going to be sick if she didn't.

She moved on autopilot down the buffet line, just dropping a couple of spoonfuls of whatever was in front of her onto her plate, barely bothering to look at what it was. She wasn't even sure that she'd be able to recognize anything if she took a moment to read the little menu cards. The critical thinking part of her brain was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what was wrong with her at that moment to actually comprehend language. It'd all read like Latin to her, and she'd just be standing there, reading "Mapo Tofu" over and over and over again until somebody asked her if she was okay. And then she'd have to answer, to lie.

Because she was not okay.

And the worst part was that she didn't even know why.

Not in a "what could these feelings possibly mean" (aka, denial) type of way, but in the fact that there were so many conflicting and confusing feelings and events swirling around her world right now, and she hadn't had the chance to process a single one of them today. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong.

It was all wrong.

From coming to terms with the fact that Shigaraki wasn't going to be in her life anymore and realizing that she had been mourning that fact, to him showing up unannounced at the meet and offering not only an olive branch, but a friendship — realizing that she was happy about that. That she was happy to see him today and was looking to him for reassurance and support. That she didn't know what to expect when he and Mirio came head to head, that it went completely in the opposite direction than she was expecting. That it still hadn't gone well. That he was acting different, and then exactly the same. Nice, then mean; trying, not trying, the Miko of it all — God, and that fucking dream.

"You're nervous."

She jumped at that extra familiar rasp suddenly behind her, spilling just about half of her food onto the ground.

"Shit," she cursed, trying to find a free spot on the buffet table to put her plate. A staff member was quick to wave her away and clean up before she could offer to help.