Shoto Todoroki

Shoto had always been responsible with schedules, always arriving home at the same time, with an organized routine.

However, today was different. Minutes passed, then hours, and her absence began to feel heavier than usual, which started to worry you. She didn't answer the first messages, nor the calls. Only when the night was already late did a message arrive on your phone:

💬: "I ran into my old friends... they insisted I stay a while. I won't drink much, I promise, sweetheart."

Although his intentions were good, things didn't always go as planned.

The proof came a couple of hours later, when you finally heard the sound of the lock turning. And there was Shoto, wobbly slightly as he held onto the frame to keep his balance.

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glassy, ​​and an awkward smile spread across her face, letting out a silly laugh, although it soon turned into a guilty pout when she saw you.

"I didn't drink much, I swear... Just a little bit, my love."

He murmured, his voice a little choked, although his alcohol-soaked breath said otherwise.

His jacket was askew, his shirt was untucked with a few buttons undone, his tie was loose, his hair was messier than usual, and when he tried to take a step forward, he almost tripped if you hadn't caught him in time; he let out a laugh.

As soon as she felt your touch, she let out a pitiful whimper and clung to you as if you were her only salvation in the world.

"Sorry... I didn't mean to take so long... but they started insisting, and you know how they are..."

He stammered, burying his face in your shoulder as his weight rested entirely on you.

His voice trembled, not because he was sick or in pain, but because in his drunkenness he had turned into a complete crybaby.

"Do you still love me...? Don't you...?"

He asked dramatically