( He Doesn't Want To Make Her Nervous - Tumblr Posts
➤ ` KOMI. ( madestars )
𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 enough to sneak past one’s senses and go unnoticed until the last moment, just as the intensity of her stare seems to get picked up. she tries to speak up, really, but it’s never so simple. or easy. so her dark gaze stays glued on, unnerving to some, a long and intense stare, stare, stare. when he finally does speak, her body can’t help but to react with a small jump, her expression freezes and a small squeak escapes her throat. his question eases her down, and she remembers that this is her friend. he knows how she functions by now, and has looked after her before.
her slender fingers work swiftly but delicately over her notebook, her neat handwriting then displayed for the other to see as she lifts it to her nose. Shouko is a quiet girl, this he knows, but she is by no means always expressionless — there’s a bit of worry in her big and pretty eyes.
「 how are you and Bakugo? sensei looks upset. 」
Hiked shoulders loosened, intent gaze jumping from one neatly penned word to the next, soaking up the ink characters, processing what’s being asked as though his classmate’s voice had conveyed it clear as bell chimes in the early morning instead. Who could’ve known that in the grip of solitude, thoughts spoken into dead air, to be heard only by his own ears and pressed into the comfort of paper — confirming their existence / his existence to this uneven world — would sharpen understanding of that which went unsaid ?
❝ Ah... Kacchan... ❞
Finger tapped the tip of the pen, irregular clicks against the table reflective of the askew tempo within. He’s unsure of broaching the topic, of addressing the conflict that took place in the makeshift cityscape. The conclusion of viewpoints clashing / the need to prove came and went, left him tired and aching, yet eyes stayed wide awake. Happy, yet anxious, yet relieved, yet belligerent — the flurry of ambivalent emotions refused to leave him.
The pen’s set down, brows knitted and mouth twisted into a faltering frown. ❝ We got into a fight so Aizawa-sensei was pretty mad about that. We're going to be on clean up duty for the next few days. I was trying to write the apology letter I have to do too. I’m having a bit of a hard time with it... ❞ He's not sorry. How could he be ? For the first time in a long time, there had been honesty. The capacity for regret was abysmally low, perhaps there if only in a marginal sense, stemming from causing problems for his teachers and a ruckus in the night. But whether it’s despondency or off kilter disposition or the bandages strewn across face and limbs, something gave his friend cause for concern. Realization finally sunk in. Hands flew up to his chest, engaged in a frenetic wave, a hope of dispelling her distress. ❝ I-I’m okay though ! So - ❞ Motion jarred / slowing / boy remembering himself, and lowered one hand clasped at another, thumb pressed against raised flesh. ❝ - so, um, you don’t have to worry about me Komi-san. Thank you for asking. ❞