Hey guys, I know I just uploaded a Bakugo chapter recently, but I don't care. This kinda came to me and I want to write it. Enjoy 💙
You stared across the subway at your reflection in the glass. You weren't the person you used to be - young, immaculate, charismatic. You were still beautiful, but you could tell that you had changed. Even just looking into your own eyes you could tell. Not that it bothered you, you still had a nice life with much to admire. You were in your mid twenties; the supposed prime of your life.
You opened up your journal and put in your earbuds. It was a long day at work, and you just wanted to have peace. You wrote down everything you were feeling, scribbling out all your feelings into your journal. As cliche as it was, your journal held more of your secrets and knew more about you than anyone you knew. Everything was safe there.
The doors opened, and people sorted in and out. You looked up and caught fiery red eyes. Memories of years you spent with those eyes flashed through your head at a thousand miles per hour. "Katsuki?" you mumbled.
He looked just as shocked to see you as you were. You pulled out your earbuds. Silence hung between you. You could tell he was thinking of the last time he saw you. You could tell by the sour look on his face. He looked pained. You shut your notebook and placed it in your bag, and placed your bag at your feet so he could sit next to you.
He gingerly took the seat you opened up for him. He usually wasn't one for silence, but right now he didn't know what to say. You forced yourself to speak. "Hey, how have you been?"
You spoke unnaturally quietly, but your throat was dry and you were emotional.
"Uh, I've been great. How about you?" He replied. He wasn't acting like himself.
"Good, good."
You couldn't look him in the eye. Every time you looked at him, you remembered his red, teary eyes begging you not to go as you shut the door on him. You felt incredibly guilty. You wanted to pretend like you didn't think of him every single day since then, but he could read you.
"Good."
It was awkward. You didn't know where to begin. In reality, the last few years were taxing, to say the least.
"It's nice seeing you. You really look great," you smiled. That was an understatement. You saw him on the news all the time, and you knew he only got more attractive as the years went on. While he was becoming stronger, more handsome, and more popular, you felt as though you were wasting away.
"Thanks. It's the job." You chuckled. Of course it was. He was a great hero. One of the greatest in the world. His name that used to casually roll off your tongue was now a household name. You were surprised no one else on the subway was asking for a picture or autograph.
You knew he wasn't going to try and drive the conversation. He was going to leave that difficult part to you. After all, you were the one who left him. His arms were crossed across his chest in a closed manner.
"Well I see you on the news a lot. I'm really proud."
He scoffed. "Yep, no thanks to you." His voice was as bitter as his eyes. You knew what leaving meant to him.
"Heh, yeah. I guess I didn't help much."
Your ex-boyfriend wasn't having it. He wanted to scream at you, ask you why you left, beg you to come back to him. But he couldn't let himself. She'd ruin me again. I shouldn't talk to her.
The subway stopped at his stop. "I gotta go. See ya around," he said, grabbing his bag and stepping off. You got up and chased after him, pulling on his sleeve like a lost child.
