Work Text:
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floating lights - hoogway
0:05 —|———————— -2:06
◁ II ▷
ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ◾︎◾︎◾︎◾︎◾︎◽︎◽︎◽︎
It's been years since Shouto had been...well, gone. His death was peaceful, but there was something that kept pushing me back here to this street cornerーin front of the cafe where the Musutafu Valentine's Massacre took place years ago.
It had been four years since that day; four years that I have been returning to his grave placing origami flowers, four years that I kept missing the letters we exchanged, four years that I wondered what life could be if he were to live longer and with me.
The party hosting Monoma and Hitoshi's aced finals was a bop earlier, though. Kyoka rented a hotel ballroom just for the event, also to celebrate the hotline company's 17th anniversary. Even Momo, Tsuyu and Kacchan attended, along with every employee in the company as well as a few close friends Monoma and Hitoshi had. We danced and danced and it was crazyーI even think Mr. Aizawa went home with a few hickeys on his neck, barely visible from the scarf he wore. That's how crazy it was.
My head hurts from all the party raving, the flashing lights and the craziness. It was my refuge to this melody playing through my earphones had eased some of the pain. It was a melody Shouto once told me to listen to, calming me from my mini anxiety attacks. I remember asking him how he found the song in the vast internet. He told me he used the song to calm himself down, too.
I continued walking down the pavement home to my apartment. Kacchan offered a ride home with his flashy motorcycle, but I had to refuse. Today was February 14th, after all. I dedicate this night in the memory of Shouto Todoroki every year. His star will always be shining overhead, and it will be my pleasure to let him know that I will not forget who he was.
Manholes littered the pavement, and I could pinpoint the one I almost fell down to. I could still see the bench we sat at waiting for a taxi that night, now occupied by a teenager with a familiar spiked hat. Cars drive past the street, with a few other night shifters occasionally seen waiting for taxis to take them home. I walked past them, knowing that little to none of them can even remember that a public shooting even took place at this street corner. Little to none of them can remember the faces that died here.
I stopped walking and removed my green hood when I reached the cafe. It was closed for the night, long removing the 24/7 Open policy they had since the shooting took place. It was a shame they removed the overnight availability, but I was still glad Shouto and I have lived when it was still like that.
I closed my eyes and focused on the soothing lyrics on the loop I played. I would always remember how I insist that Shouto sing it instead of me listening to the recorded version, and he would always decline. This song was the stars, the night sky, the warm hug of the blankets after a long day, the soothing kiss of a mother and roses taken care of until they get sorted to bouquets. It was how magical it felt. Listening to this was almost a sacred process with all the memories tied to it. With all the memories I shared with the person that made me listen to it.
I'll be okay...
When Shouto sang it, it was full of hope and security. He listened to it, he listened to me, he listened to himself, and so he lived. When I listen to it, I keep his own version in mind that it almost hurts to know that I didn't record his singing when I had the chance.
Be okay...
He was okay. He became okay. That is the magic that lurked in this melody.
Someone suddenly tapped me on my back; I almost jumped in surprise. It was the teenage boy that sat on the bench earlier. I removed an earphone to listen, and he removed his spiky hat to expose his face to assure honesty.
"Uhm, sir, uh, you dropped your phone over there," he said, pointing to a spot a few meters behind me. He gave me my phone and went back to the bench, possibly to wait for his ride home.
I blinked, looking at the dangling cord.
Who was singing?