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The League’s base was strangely quiet that night.
The glow of the screens barely illuminated Tomura’s tired face as he sat in front of his computer for more than twenty minutes. Something was bothering him, something small. Persistent.
He had seen you disappear into the bathroom three times in less than an hour. You walked around erratically, hiding things beneath your clothes, turning the light off and back on again.
And when you came back the last time, you had adjusted your sleeves too quickly.
Tomura Shigaraki wasn’t good at reading emotions. He never had been. But he knew empty stares. The tension in someone’s shoulders. The desperate attempt to act normal.
Because he had been a mess once too.
His bedroom door was slightly open as he watched you.
“Come here,” he ordered, without raising his voice too much.
You stopped immediately.
“What?”
“I said come here.”
There was irritation in his tone, but not anger. That was worse. Because you felt like he already knew something.
You opened the door slowly. He looked at your hands. Your arms hidden beneath a hoodie despite the summer heat, then clicked his tongue.
“You’re bleeding.”
Your heart dropped. He noticed.
Instinctively, you took a step back, but Tomura stood up first. Tall, thin, exhausted. His red eyes locked onto you without mockery or disgust.
Only recognition.
“You don’t have to hide it from me,” he muttered.
Your lips trembled slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
He frowned immediately.
“…What?”
You lowered your gaze.
“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t want to make things difficult. I didn’t want to ruin everything again.”
Discomfort instantly appeared on Tomura’s face, as if your words had struck a part of him he didn’t know how to handle.
He clicked his tongue again, more irritated at himself than at you.
“You don’t get it.”
He dragged a hand over his neck before searching through one of the nearby drawers. A small first-aid kit landed on the table.
“Sit down.”
“I can do it myself.”
“I know.”
His voice came out rougher this time.
Still, you sat down.
The silence became heavy while he opened bandages and disinfectant. Tomura Shigaraki had never been gentle. Nor kind. Nor good at comforting people.
But despite that, he was still there.
His fingers moved with strange care around your skin, avoiding direct contact for too long. As if he didn’t know how much touch was acceptable.
And that only made you feel worse.
“I’m sorry…” you whispered again. “I know I’m troublesome.”
Tomura went still.
For a second, you thought he was going to get angry.
Instead, he let out a tired sigh.
“What a pain.”
But it didn’t sound cruel.
It sounded exhausted.
He finished adjusting the bandages and quickly pulled his hands away, as if only then realizing he had been standing too close.
“You don’t have to apologize for every damn thing.”
He said it while looking away.
You swallowed hard.
“But…”
“If you were a burden, I would’ve kicked you out a long time ago.”
The sentence should have sounded horrible.
And yet, coming from Tomura, it was almost a confession.
He hated most people. He couldn’t stand fake weakness or exaggerated emotions. But he recognized real pain when he saw it.
Because he carried it with him all the time.
“I won’t do it again… sorry.”
He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, uncomfortable when he noticed you holding back tears. You knew it was a false promise, you wouldn’t be able to leave this world that easily. But you wanted to give your caretaker some kind of relief.
Instead, he simply grabbed one of the leftover bandages and tossed it against your chest, where it fell into your lap.
“Next time, tell me before it gets worse,” he muttered. “I can’t fix things if you hide them.”
After that, he sat back down in front of his video game, though he clearly wasn’t paying attention to it anymore.
And even if his tone remained rough, even if there were no hugs or comforting words, one simple truth became obvious in that silent room:
Tomura Shigaraki wasn’t going to give up on you that easily.