Silence lingered around him. 

Dreadful and sympathetic silence around him. 

It was dark, so dark, he felt as if he was staring in an abyss full of small specks of light. 

A breeze brushed against his skin as he let out an inhale, immediately regretting it, as he swallowed in a gulp, with that swallowing only a partial of his guilt and grief that washed over him. 

Laughs and content cries replayed in his mind as his name was being repeatedly cried. He felt himself smile and turn around to the source of the sounds, spotting the blonde and the purplenette standing beside him, flashing a supportful grin. Finally, fully turning around, he expected to see a h/l h/c girl with the most beautiful and gleaming e/c eyes, with her mouth tilted upwards in both ways, waving or throwing her arms out at him. Instead, he found nothing, nothing but blank, black emptiness. 

Searching around for the figure he anticipated, he found no one, turning back to the direction he was originally facing, and also found that his friends were no longer next to him, instead they were far away, with their backs turned to him. He looked back for the one closest to his heart, but when he realized he had lost her, he raced back to his friends, who were right there in front of him now, but walking away. He picked up his pace in the inky depths of his imagination, reaching out, but they seemed unreachable. Just as he was about to reach them, they disappeared, dispersing in bits of pure, white butterflies. 

"Wait!" he screamed out in desperation trying to catch them with his bruised and scarred hands, but they all evaded the frantic flinging of his hands and arms.

Then, they fluttered out of his sight, and he watched as each and every one of them disappeared into the canvas of the blackness hopelessly. He dropped to his knees at the realization of his lone presence, his hands coming up to his face to find whatever lurked in the shadows, his tears, the tears he emitted from his eyes in which he was ashamed and too embarrassed to show it to anyone, including himself. He let his tears fall pitifully on his sulking form, his body shaking from just the overbearing emotions he was feeling. 

The ground below him crumbled and he fell into an endless hole with only his drunken depression and the undefeatable guilt to comfort him. 

A final yelp of help had caused him to snap out of his thoughts.  

As he continued staring at the patch of earth, only risen a few inches from the ground, he hadn't noticed it himself, but water began pooling at the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill over. 

Here he was, at the special place, with the cherry blossom tree, but he could never see it in the same way again. Not the same peacefulness and serenity it offered could be given to him anymore as he stared at the rope that hung loosely from a thick branch. It's loose around it was tightened and only extended a few feet before it was abruptly cut off from before. 

He was on the brink of breaking down, but he knew he couldn't allow that for the sake of his pride. Still the hard-fought battle with his consuming thoughts had ended in a defeat, and a single teardrop ran down his cheek, stopping at his chin and fell down in steady drips as it began to pool a small puddle at his feet. This time, he allowed himself to give in, sobbing quietly as his eyes quenched with water, the emotions he was bottling in coming out in a rush as more and more tears fell, staining his cheeks as they dried. 

Once he stopped shedding tears, he felt each and every bit of his once emotional soul become deprived from him with each tear, and now he was an empty shell of the person he was before. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered raspily, his voice hoarse and barely had the strength to speak. 

He turned back around, making one promise to himself. 

He was never going to return here again. 

A quick inhale came before him as he woke up suddenly, sitting up abruptly as he began panting like a doll. Sweat emitted from his forehead and everywhere, his breathing erratic and fast as he placed his hand over his over-beating heart, trying to calm down his pulse, clutching the fabric over his chest tightly in a fist. A wet liquid ran over his lips, and he tasted it, taking in the salty water that managed to enter his pouty lips. 

He hasn't cried in years, so why was he crying now?

He cursed himself for being so irrational and breaking at something as simple as this, taking in a deep breath before continuing to execrate at himself for showing such weakness. 

Why couldn't he move on? He thought he did, but why had these memories begun resurfacing again? What had been triggering them?  

Damn it, Hizashi. 

Groaning, he looked over at the digital alarm clock that was placed next to him on the bedroom drawer. He squinted a little to readjust his eyes so they could read the red little imprints.

2:14 AM. 

He told himself he should really go back to sleep, and he rolled over, and shifted the covers over his body. 

Still, he couldn't allow himself to shut down as his whole body was continuously awake, unable to forget about the dream- or memory- he just had. After half an hour of failing to drift to sleep, he sat up again and stared blankly at the dark room's walls, empty of emotion as he remained gazing at it with lifeless, dull eyes, before considering to get up. 

The moment his foot touched the floor, he cursed once again, his foot numbing just at the contact with the cold wood floor. He waited for a few moments to regain the feeling of his foot before placing it firmly, ignoring the lingering numbness that hadn't left, and standing up to reach for his phone, also scattered with a variety of his everyday-needed items; his keys, his capture weapon, goggles, and his eyedrops. 

Ripping off the charger from his phone, he turned it on, instantly blanking multiple times as his eyes prepared themselves for the bright light emitted from the screen. He rubbed his eyes with his hands, before tapping a few buttons to pull up the nightly news from last night, reading the articles and what people had to say. 

He was fairly intrigued that people were still invested into USJ, considering that he thought that they would forget about it after a week. Humans had such fickle minds, he knew that for sure. 

He found himself scrolling to the article a few weeks prior with a previously seen head title.

Murder: Dangerous Quirk or Lethal Drugs? 

Something from the cracks of his deep and complex mind had told him that was where he could look for answers. 

His eyes trailed over the shadow that was overcasted on the bodies in the picture captured from a security camera. 

Something told him his answers were from that murderer. 

A/N: Well that happened. The dream is kinda figurative. What a guilt trip. Welp. Don't forget to vote and comment guys! Thanks!