"Love was so fucking cringey until I met you."
You and your delinquent brother had been "troubled" kids, since the very beginning of it all.
Before things got bad; and, before things got good.
Constantly wreaking havoc just for the fun of it, lea...
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"If you're up for it?"
You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, "On second thought...No." and you use the tip of your pointer finger to push your sunnies higher up the bridge of your nose, and turning around to walk away nonchalantly.
"Wait, wait!" he says, delicately grabbing ahold of your forearm with his left hand to tug you back, "Will you please spear me a few minutes to explain?"
"No," You turn back around, your eyes radiating carat fury and impatience, and you turn your quirk on. The arm he grabs you on you sets on fire, but he doesn't react the same as the others do to your defensive techniques.
In fact, the boy doesn't react at all.
Your brows cross in dander perplexity, "What? Why-"
"I've got two sides to my quirk, much like you." he says, and let's go of your arm, not having any reaction to your extremely high temperatures, "One of them is also fire-power."
You pull away, "Don't pretend to know me, I didn't ask about your quirk."
"I know," the boy says admittedly, seeming dull, "I know, you didn't ask. You don't care."
You nod, and there's a long, awkward silence then, the two of you sitting uncomfortably in it. You roll your shoulders in relaxation, "You're that one depressing kid from my class, right?"
Surprisingly, the boy doesn't respond in such a way you would expect from a hormonal and—clearly emotionally damaged—teen. You notice him smile, his eyes hooded with far too much felicity for your subtle stab. He was too happy, for what you said—it was unsettling.
"So you did see me," he smiles, looking to the floor, he anxiously tugs at his nail-beds, too. "Your hero name is Phoenix, am I mistaken?"
"No."
"I see. From what i've heard, it matches your quirk very well."
You cross your arms, "What're you doing at the hospital?"
"I visit my mother who is in the mental institution here, every weekend." he says calmly, professedly comfortable talking about that with a complete stranger, "It's not solely a hospital."
"Okay?"
He glances around sparingly, then his head locks back to face you, "Are you busy right now?" he asks, looking you in the eyes deeply so he would be able to despiser if you were choosing to lie or not, and for what reason exactly.
"Moderately." you sniff, rubbing your nose chaotically. "Why?"
"Would you like to spend today with me?" he hums, slipping his hands into his jean pockets, "We can explore, and—if you'll allow it—I can show you some truly adoring places that I love visiting."
