Fragmented | Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

03; clipped wings

Shigaraki didn't come see you until the following morning. You weren't even sure how you'd managed to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position, with your wrists bound and skin scraping against the metal clamp of the belt, but the overwhelming fear must've made you pass out. When you finally came to, you didn't even realize that it was morning. All the blinds in the room were permanently shut, the faintest bit of light trickling onto the floor.

"Wake up," Shigaraki grunted, and your head snapped up at the sound. You spluttered weakly, throat parched and body stiff from the position you'd been forced into for several hours. He walked over to you and crouched down until he was looking you right in the eye with those blood-red irises of his.

You were afraid to say anything. Honestly, you didn't even know how you were still alive. It was clear that he was remarkably short-tempered, having lashed out simply because you weren't adequately good at video games and you'd apparently looked at him funny last night. He'd said everything was pissing him off lately, and he was in need of a distraction. What did he expect from you? There wasn't even anything you could do. You were just so fucking ordinary.

"How did you sleep?" Shigaraki asked, his voice taking on a snide, jeering tone. You wanted to scrunch up your nose at him, to spit right in his face, but doing that was literally suicide. Instead, you nodded slowly, trying to bring a small smile to your lips.

"It was... okay," you breathed. "Uh, it's... I mean... I'm sorry for upsetting you last night. I was just... tired."

"Hm. You must be thirsty. Want some water?"

"Yes... please."

He looked at you for a few moments, and you were able to study his face more in detail. His skin was so dry. Last night, you'd caught onto a bad habit he seemed to have. He would scratch at his neck so often that the skin there was practically raw. You didn't think that he was necessarily ugly, per se, but it was clear his health and well-being weren't at the top of his to-do list. The League's goal was unknown, as far as the media reported. They'd first risen to the surface back when they'd attacked those U.A students on their own campus.

Shigaraki pulled out a water bottle from the mini fridge in his room, and you were already swallowing at the sight of the clear fluid glistening within the plastic container. He uncapped the bottle and poured some water out into a cup, then slid it over to you.

You looked up at him. "S-Sorry, my hands are tied, so I can't..."

"How's that my fucking problem? What, you want me to hold it up for you so you can drink?"

Your throat tightened. The cup was right there, right in front of you, just sitting on the floor. He'd set it down there just to taunt you. It had been many hours since you'd had anything to drink, and the human body could survive without water for three days at best. You already felt lightheaded. Was this how he was planning to kill you? So slowly and tortuously?

"It's like you're not even trying," Shigaraki drawled disinterestedly. "I thought people had the will to fight for their lives. You're so hopeless, you'd seriously die with the water a few centimeters in front of you."

He sighed and picked it up, and you felt your entire body relax as he brought the cup to your lips, but at the last second, he pulled away and stood all the way up. You tilted your head to look up at him and a stream of cold water fell on your face.

"Fuck...!"

You shivered from the cold, most of it having trickled down and soaked into your shirt. Shigaraki began to chuckle at the sight. This must've been the closest thing to happiness you'd seen from him thus far.