❝ p𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 p𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧. ❞
《 " An intoxicating sense of tranquility. " 》
Her "good deed" of the day. An excuse to pity him, that's all it ever was in Tomura's eyes.
A slow, tiresome routine constant in his life, Shigaraki finds himself s...
As he tread, no, pranced off in poorly hidden glee, you could only stare in bafflement.
Fuck, scratch my earlier doubts, with squinted eyes, the whites of their sockets' now stained with bloodshot, you blanched. That guy is nutty.
You didn't have the heart to argue with his poor attempt of a threat, to your literal life. Honestly, careless to the scenario was more like it.
"Whatever." Muffled the women, unamused. "Saves me the trouble of a double shift anyways, asshole."
❀° ┄──────╮
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╰──────┄ °❀
Of course, this entire outcome left you slightly effected. While your earlier statement was true, I really couldn't give a damn less over some incel on a power trip, the instinctive urge to glance over one's shoulder was there, heavily present.
No doubt, it likely looked suspicious from afar, although, no one questioned it.
Many heroes didn't patrol this area of the city and, surprisingly, nor did villians. Although, that was to be expected. Without villians, there are no heros, right?
This came at its cost and most weighed the pros & cons, soon scrapping the idea of venturing into this neck of the woods altogether. Hell, the apartment complex you resided at even lacked in population. It's a miracle, in a way.
Most landlords nagged their tenants, rightfully so, for their due rent. With so little business, you were given spare time if late on payment. Exactly what my tip earnings from tonight are going towards, yippee..
Sluggishly dragging your limp body up the duplexes' staircase, courtesy of a broken elavator, relief was unfathomable once you met the surface of a wooden, dimly lit door. The few neighbors you had were respectful, often referring to this small shitshow of a complex as 'family'.. oddly, it was sweet.
Alas, you hadn't had the pleasure of greeting a few tenant. It was reaching two (2am) in the morning. Most sane people were asleep, ready to work the nine-to-five all over again come morning.
With a pressured force, you willed the heavy obstacle to move, face to face with a near empty floorplan.
Potted plants, all of which fake, offered a soft compliment to the small living quarters' yellowish-dim ambiance.
