bnha imagines

unrequited. // h. shinsou

  he didn't, but he still nodded. "that's pretty cool."

  "mhm!" you beamed. "but snipe usually kicks me out of the art room around, well, now. are you headed back to the dorms?"

  "yeah, just finished with training," he said.

  "wanna walk back with me?" you asked, beginning to put away the art supplies and clean up your mess.

  the boy smiled, "sure."

~

  it had become routine for you and shinsou to meet up after school, sometimes even at lunch or during homeroom before your teacher showed up. he would go to training and then head to the art room right after to walk with you back to the dorms. it turned out, you two shared the same sense of humor, and while he was the serious one–though, more tired than anything–you were always pretty bubbly and happy in his eyes.

  you enjoyed the hero-in-training's company immensely. you thought he was interesting and the drive for becoming a pro-hero even more than any of the other hero course kids' stories you'd heard. you'd grown accustomed to meeting him in the lunch room and walking back to the dorms with him. most times he even helped you with your homework. the last bit helped a lot, seeing as you were almost too busy sketching during class due to your quirk.

  and through your constant meetings and relatively new friendship with shinsou, you'd started to develop feelings. it may have been too soon, but his dedication to becoming a hero and his eyes and the way his personality meshed so well with yours, well... you could feel yourself falling for him and his indigo eyes.

  you sat in the art room with a blank canvas in front of you. an assortment of colors was laid out on the easel, and you expertly mixed a light hue of indigo together. it started as light, short brush strokes against the paper, and you added bits of red to the mix.

  shinsou stood in the doorway once more as he came back early from aizawa's training. he wasn't sure what you were painting that day, but he knew that he enjoyed seeing how your eyes glazed over while you painted your visions.

  "it looks like a flower," he commented as he noticed you put the paintbrush down. somehow, the boy knew when and when not to disrupt you, and he would always wait until you finish with your art to start talking.

  you nodded. "it's called an anemone flower, i think. i've seen it a few times, and that rarely happens with visions."

  "what's the red?" he asked, taking a closer look.

  to that, you shrugged. "not too sure. it's about the same color as blood, but i'm sure it's part of the flower. they come in many different colors, so i wouldn't be surprised."

  he hummed. "well, it's pretty either way. you ready to go?"

  "just give me a second to clean up," you replied.

  "sounds good, i'll be waiting outside." and the indigo-haired boy left the room.

  you had just twisted the cap back onto one of the tubes of paint when you felt a dry itch at the back of your throat. you took a quick swig of your water before returning back to cleaning up once again. but, the water hadn't helped, and you coughed a few times, trying to clear the itch. maybe you were just getting sick.

  you closed your sketchbook and reached to slip in back into your backpack when you were met with a rack of coughs. the air grew thin as you hacked your lungs out, your eyes watering with the intensity and lack of air. you could feel something climb up your throat, and you rushed over to the trashcan. doubling over as you began to taste something sickly sweet on your tongue.