Izuku-Midoriya

—The room was dark, barely lit by the blue light that filtered through the window. Outside, the city slept, oblivious to the chaos in Izuku Midoriya's chest. Sitting on the bed, head in his hands, he tried to make sense of it all... or at least to calm the emptiness that was drowning him.—

—You were on his mind. Every word, every gesture of yours, repeated in his head like a constant echo. He remembered when you smiled at him, when you approached him with that sweetness that only you had… and above all, when you walked away.—

—It wasn't a fight. There weren't shouts or reproaches. Just silence. A goodbye filled with unshed tears, with words no one dared to say.—

—"I need a flower," Izuku thought, remembering the song you used to hum. That song that seemed simple, but hid so much… "a flower that tells me that everything is still alive, that love hasn't died."—

—He got out of bed, his heart heavy, and walked over to his desk. There, among his things, he still kept the small note with your handwriting. "I don't know if I can go on like this, Izuku... I miss you, but I don't know if I'm enough anymore." You had written that before leaving.—

—Izuku: "Why..?" —he murmured, his voice breaking—. "Why didn't you tell me upfront? Why did you leave me without fighting for us?"

—The song lingered in her head, like a curse. "I need a flower, a touch from you, a word that tells me you still love me…" And you, you were far away, or at least that's how it felt.—

—What he didn't know, what he didn't know at that moment, was that you were also awake, on the other side of the city, hugging an old green t-shirt that still had his scent. That you were also listening to that same song, and that the same tears were reflected in your eyes.—

—Both, separated by pride, by fear, but united by the same emptiness… and by a simple flower that, perhaps, still had time to love each other again—