Midoriya sat awkwardly at the bar. He looked down at his hands on the counter, fidgeting. His breath was a little too fast as the men he was waiting to talk to did whatever they were doing beforehand. Glasses clinked, coming from the... mist in front of him, behind the counter. Finally - yet still too soon - the man who called himself Shigaraki sat down a few seats next to Midoriya. All he said was two words. - A draft I had for a long time that I added like 100 words to at most. I'm not into My Hero Academia right now, maybe I will again in the future, but my obsession is Hetalia currently, but I needed a post, so here we are. Honestly, I don't hate it, especially for something that was probably over a year old (I don't remember when I started it, and I forgot to look at the date the draft was saved before writing). Might make a sequel focusing on Shigaraki's point of view (third limited focusing on him instead of Midoriya) but we'll see. If I need to post something, then maybe. Nothing is set in stone though.