Chapter Text
The city lights kept you company as you wait on the roof top. The streets were not too busy with cars at this time, a few sirens in the distance. Considering the location, it was surprisingly quiet. You focused on an apartment building a few blocks away, taking in the life inside. You decided to observe a few of them to help the time tick by, to ease your anxiety about what you’re about to do. A woman sat on the couch with her small dog, playing tug of war while she talks on the phone. A couple are enjoying dinner at candlelight. A few of the apartments have the same sports game on, some of them with friends, some are watching it alone.
You take a drag of your cigarette, a habit you typically only participate in when you’re drinking or stressed. You quickly checking your watch. 9:10pm. He should be leaving work now, finishing his shift at 9pm. You estimate he'll be walking in this area at about 9:20pm.
You exhale and watch the smoke being carried off into the sky. You never expected to be this kind of person, watching to see if your boyfriend is working late or if your suspicions are true. You really love him, and you want this to work. You’re desperate for it to work. It felt like he was it, that he simply was, for you.
The usual work issues were expected, they were typically consistent and you never had a second thought when he'd have to occasionally call in and explain what happened and why he would be late. But lately, your gut told you that something had shifted beyond what was all part of the deal when dating a pro hero. You were warned, you read about it, you both prepared for it together. He begged you to give him a chance. His boyish smile, easy laugh and the genuine kindness shown in his eyes when he talked encouraged you to give it a shot.
And now here you are. Two years into the relationship, you live together further out of the city. He kept his old place since it's closer to his agency. You really didn't mind. If you needed a space to focus on your work or if he had late work nights, it was there and it was convenient.
But lately, the late night and all-night work excuses were coming up more often. Three, four, five times a week your phone would flash with his name fifteen minutes before his shift ended. As always, he was apologetic, sweet, convincing you he'll make it up to you on the weekend. As you predicted, the exact same thing happened this evening.
"Babe, I'm so sorry. It's just been crazy today and I'm behind on reports. If I'm late on another report, Bakugou is going to kill me if I ask him to help me again." Denki sounded so genuine and the reasoning couldn't be argued. And it was true; he was bad at filing his reports. You’ve overheard his friends roast him for it, so it was the perfect cover story.
"Okay," you whispered, trying to hide the tremor in your voice as you grab your car keys and the spare key to his apartment. "Will you be home tomorrow?"
"Definitely, I think I just need tonight to get caught up and I'll be home tomorrow in time to tuck you in, I promise."
"Okay, love you. Take care of yourself, okay?"
"Love you too, goodnight, babe!" You had already decided that you would go to his apartment and stake it out from above.
--
The watch clicks to 9:18pm. You peer down to the ground with your binoculars which would have normally made you feel like a maniac, but you really can't care right now. You put out your cigarette and light up another one.
Your eyes are scanning the sidewalk, trying to see anything. A dog being walked. A salary man running to the train. An older couple walking. No Denki.
9:20pm. Nothing.
9:25pm. Nothing. Your heart starts to calm a little, the anxiety loosening its grip.
9:30pm. A woman is arguing with someone on her cellphone outside after exiting the train station. No Denki.
9:35pm. The woman is picked up in a car and is gone; a quick snippet of argument being heard from inside the car before she slams the door shut. You’re starting to feel bad for being suspicious.
9:40pm. Nothing. You sigh with relief. You lean against the rail, hanging your head low. Your fourth cigarette of the night nearing its end. You take one last inhale and put it out. You’re about to leave but your gut convinces you that you need to take one more look.
9:42pm. Denki. He's there, walking down the street towards his apartment. You hold your breath. He's alone but changed into his civilian clothes. He has a small bouquet of flowers. Your heart sinks into the bottom of your stomach. Is that for you for tomorrow as an apology? Is that for someone else tonight?
You could swear time stops while you’re watching him. He stops in the courtyard. He's leaning against a bike rack, pulling out his phone. You can't make out what he's saying, he's speaking softly and you’re too high up.
Then you see her. A petite woman with short purple hair, taking quick excited steps towards him. He initially greets her like an old friend, a wave and a laugh. In fact, you’re certain that is someone you recognize. You haven’t got to spend much time with his friends lately since they live further out from the city and your career has been busy so you can't quite put your finger on it.
You were about to make another mental note to look at his agency faculty website to see if you can figure out who this is when your suspicions are confirmed. He takes a quick look around, not looking up. He reaches out and holds her hand, gently handing over the flowers. The woman laughs; it looks like she makes a joke. He blushes. She tilts her head up. They kiss. You snap a quick photo with your phone camera before you throw the binoculars down by your feet. You can't quite catch your breath, you feel like you’re drowning. You hate that you were right, your gut guided you to the truth, and you forced yourself to confirm it. You let yourself cry, you let yourself freak out, you let yourself feel sick and you gasp for air. You give yourself twenty minutes to freak out because you’re trapped here and you must wait a bit longer before you can make your way down the stairwell in case you cross paths. You’re not ready to face him.
--
Twenty minutes pass and it feels like a lifetime. Your tears haven't quite stopped but you’re finally able to take small breaths to keep from feeling dizzy. You make your way down and out, briefly considering listening at the door to his place but you can't put yourself through more pain tonight.
You hate your past self for parking several blocks away to be extra careful to not get caught but the walk gives you a chance to -
"The fuck, Y/N?"
You pause, not quite recognizing the voice, before you try to pretend that you didn’t hear anything. You cannot be caught here.
"HEY, what the hell is wrong with you, I'm talkin' to you!" The voice booms at you. Oh fuck. It's the one that's always angry, the one you try to avoid whenever you did get to hang out with his friends. You can feel a panic attack coming on. Why couldn't it have been one of his nicer friends?
You stop and take in as much air as you can, which isn't much because your chest feels like it's caving in on itself. You turn around to face him. He's stomping over, a nasty, ugly look on his face. He looks around as he gets closer, probably assuming Denki is with you since it was only an hour ago when he would've gotten off work.
He stops about five feet in front of you, in full hero gear and intimidating as fuck. "I asked you a question! Why'd you ignore me and where is dunce face, I thought he was done over an hour ago?"
You open your mouth with the intent to lie and say you must've crossed wires about his schedule because of whatever reason, but nothing comes out. A stuttered sound shakes out of your throat before you start to hyperventilate. Fuck. Fuck!
Denki's very angry friend quickly closes the distance, grabs your shoulders and aggressively shakes you out of it. "No, no, no, you're not having whatever emotional moment you're trying to have here when it's just me. Where the hell is your stupid fuckhead boyfriend?" The shaking was so startling that it gets you out of your head and it kind of pisses you off that it actually worked. Your panic attack is put on hold. You steady yourself, his hands on your shoulders helping since his grip is holding you in place.
"He's at his apartment down the street. He doesn't know I'm here. Pretend you didn't see me, you don't need to get involved, I'm just trying to go home." Your voice is still coarse, but you manage to get it out. You lift your car keys and click to unlock it; the beeping can be heard down the street which catches his eye. His face transforms from pure anger to angry confusion. "Please. You and I don't know each other very well but it's our business, not yours, not anyone’s and I'll figure it out, but you didn't see me."
He slowly let’s go of your shoulders and you beeline for the driver seat door.
You start the car, or at least, you try to. It makes a clicking sound. You try again. Clicking, whirring, clicking. You lean back into your seat and let you a horrible scream of frustration and once again, you can’t control your tears. You’re trapped and the angry one is still looking in at you through the windshield with that stupid confused look on his face. Great.