He allowed those strayed tears to fall. 

After all, that was what this room was made for. To hide his weakness. Now, with no one able to see or find him, he allowed himself to sob quietly. 

It was one to lose one friend, but it was a total different thing to lose two in the same year. To him, it felt like everything he held close was going to leave him. 

He lost his best friend, and his lover, two of the most important people in his life. He bit his lip as a realization came upon him, and this made him try to prevent his tears. Still, it wasn't enough. 

Just like how he was never enough. He would never be enough. He couldn't be enough. He wasn't enough to prevent both of his friends' disappearances. He wasn't strong enough to save Shirakuma from that falling boulder. Maybe if he used his capture weapon to pull him to safety he could. Maybe if he was fast enough he could have. Maybe if he was strong enough... maybe if he was enough he could have saved him.

But no. He wasn't. He watched his friend collapse from the impact of the boulder, unknowingly causing his death. He couldn't save him, even though he was right in front of him. He was so close, and he could have saved him. But he didn't. Maybe if he could have been better before he could save him. 

But Y/N? Nothing could have made him feel worse about her. Dying heroically was one thing, but utterly disappearing forever? That was another. To have left behind the life she had because of him, to have hated living with what she had, to having her physically hurt herself in an attempt to relieve the pain? That was all because of him. 

Shirakumo, in a sense, had a happy ending. He died saving the people he wanted to save, and he was remembered? Y/N however? Well... it was just a tragic ending. To have disappeared, and then forgotten was one of the worst things to happen to someone. No one would care, and you would die alone, and that's just one of the saddest things that he could imagine. 

He wondered if that kind of death was what he would deserve in the future. 

It reminded him of the ending of Romeo and Juliet.

With no loved ones to care, and no one to mourn you, it was almost like you just existed; you weren't even there in the first place. 

You were dead in the first place. 

HIs guilty memories flew by him, and unconsciously, he gripped the fabric above his chest, tears spilling from his eyes as it felt like he was getting kicked in the balls. He was helpless, utterly useless and immobilized as he saw them, he was too late, too late to have been able to help, too late to have noticed before, too late to have reacted, too late... to have felt. 

He wasn't enough to stop either of them, and it's been eating him up, gnawing away at every bone like it had already done to his body. He could have reached, he could have helped, he could have done anything... and yet? He couldn't, because he was a fucking useless hero. Did he even deserve to be called a hero at all after what had happened? Such a crown didn't deserve to be placed on top of his head after what he had done. 

He promised her that he would be her hero.

And he promised Shirakumo that he would try his best in becoming one. 

What kind of hero couldn't save the two people he cared about? 

What was a hero? A hero was someone that is able to save someone's life no matter the danger, it was about self-sacrificing and pushing yourself to the limit. It was about making it so you could give hope to a barren wasteland and fend off of the darkness that has made it barren in the first place. 

He couldn't do any of those. He couldn't save the people he wanted. He hadn't sacrificed himself to save some kids like Shirakumo, or put in nearly as much effort. And he definitely can't be the bright beacon of hope like Y/N was to him. 

All in all, he was nothing. A nobody. A human who pretended to be something that he wasn't. A someone he said he's proud of. A person that hates himself more than anything else. A pitiful adult still mourning the loss of his friends even after many years. A man who had only a few to care about his well being. Weak and broken, he wasn't strong enough to face the realities of his past yet. A loser who couldn't see the light in anything anymore. A liver, who has been wanting to give up since the day he lost to himself. 

A hero who simply didn't know who else he could save. 

What would have Y/N done in his place? Probably fake a smile and brushed it off. Ignore the painful contractions in her heart whenever she replayed those memories? Distract herself with alcohol and drugs? That's what he has been doing, hasn't he? He puts on a facade that everything is normal, he has the same brooding and strict face he always shows. He has ignored the strings connected to his heart being tugged. He always overworked himself with paperwork to distract himself. 

Maybe subconsciously, it's just not lately he has been struggling, he always has been struggling. Is that why he is who he is? An insomniac, lazy, busy man trying to get some sleep? An insecure guy that couldn't look at himself in a mirror? A hero that never uses his instincts or heart to judge a situation? 

Maybe Y/N has affected him more than he thought. No, she's taken control of his life. Everything, everything was for her. He hadn't realized he had changed for her. But why? Was this his way of trying to move on? Trying to repay for what he's done? 

Either way, he couldn't live with himself, no matter what he did. He's been embracing the emptiness left in his heart, that strict and uncaring demeanor being the result of it. He just... wants to give up. 

He knew secretly though, that that wasn't an option. Death was too much of an easy escape to make it out of this hell hole he called life. Where everyday he is suffering from the burdens of his life because he wasn't able to move. 

He told himself to not dwell on the past. To not regret. What was he doing now? 

He hadn't been noticing that he was sobbing loudly until he forced himself to refuse to make any more self-hatred thoughts. He was kneeling on the floor, burying his face into his knees and hands. 

He truly was pathetic.

His clothes and skin were coated with his salty tears and more of them kept coming. He rubbed the tears off of his face, as he just simply stared in the dark abyss of an unlit corner in the room. His hands decided to rest alongside his hips, but his knuckles brushed against something hard and straight. He looked over to his right, finding a box next to him. 

Curious and needing a distraction, he knew it would only cause him more pain, all this room was just a timeline of his life. He looked inside the box, his heart stopping at seeing the contents of it. 

A bunch of books were stacked upon each other, filling the whole box, but there was a sticky note on top of one. 

Dear Shota,

As you know, I will no longer be able to house these anymore. Please keep them in a safe location. Don't forget. 

-L/N Y/N. 

Taking the thin book that had the note attached to it, he unsticked the note, and looked at the cover. 

"Diary #8: 9/8/20XX- ___"