❝ 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...
Believe it or not, four (4) damn weeks, he'd be dragging this 'attempt' out.
Tomura had slipped from the mist-like wormhole of transportation, courtesy of Kurogiri. Purposely, he'd had taken a different route with his allowance.
He needed to relax, to de-stress from how aggravating this situation was.
He'd strided down the desolate sidewalk, the occasional civilian gawking at his rigid figure as if he'd suddenly bite them, vicious in spite.
The crisp, autumn fall was growing bitter, indicating winter was arising. Clouds littered the skies' dull canvas of gray as they swept whatever little sunlight protruded from their moving ascend.
Tomura shivered, absentmindedly. He wore a particularly thin sweatshirt, along with gray waistband sweats. His signature sneakers were blatant, seen from miles away in their crimson-like hue.
Without precaution, his fists balled and hid within the confinements' of a kangaroo pouch of his sweatshirt.
Kurogiri had pestered him of this, insisting he wear a larger, more weather appropriate coat. Him and his damn stubbornness.
However, Tomura prevailed, venturing further down the cracked pavement.
Long before she had disrupted his routine, Tomura had been strict, consistent. Every so often, as a reward for good behavior and above average results, he was gifted with a hefty allowance & curfew.
The first time he'd missed curfew, had been weeks ago. with you.
Tomura had outwardly prolonged his usual outing unintentionally, as to merely berate you, the first day he'd met you. Hence, he'd practically demanded your cellular phone as a means to contact Kurogiri and venture home.
He'd had walked himself, although as unfortunate as it was, Tomura didn't know where they lived.
There would be no second time, Tomura was sure.
He'd avoid that diner as if the plauge, if necessary. Tomura refused to subject himself to somehow submitting to his loss of time, a distraction he couldn't allow, if he so much as wished to abide by his scheduled curfew.
Ceasing to a halt, he'd stopped infront of an newly opened, refurbished arcade. 'Duel offer', a grand opening held approximately two (2) months prior.
Naturally, the establishment was overrun with consumers. Most of which, seemed to be hordes of teenagers whom had skipped their evening classes and left school premise..
This, of course, led Tomura to hastily beeline towards a familiar, nostalgic game of 'Heroic works'. While yes, it was themed around the succession of those he despised, Tomura often selected a tolerable hero's programed skin and took his bottled fury out on NPCs and/or fellow 'duel' players of this off-brand street fighter.
❀° ┄──────╮
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