"Love was so fucking cringey until I met you."
You and your delinquent brother had been "troubled" kids, since the very beginning of it all.
Before things got bad; and, before things got good.
Constantly wreaking havoc just for the fun of it, lea...
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You delicately trace your fingers along the alumina clay wall of your tiny, uncomfortable cell wall.
How did I even get here?
It all happened so fast.
You just got arrested out of the blue. You didn't even know how the police found your hideout, but they got your brother too.
The so called 'bed' you had been supplied for your temporary stay at the Juvenile Detention Centre for dangerous adolescences felt like actual stone, so much so that you chose to sit on the ground rather than the bed.
You furrow your brows, letting your tired arms fall to your knees, and you sigh.
God dammit.
We fucked up.
Surprisingly, you hear the bothersome ring of the security gate to your cell chiming in open. The noise send your eyes creaking open while you glare at the magnesite door across the room from you.
Someone's visiting me?
Your knees are still pulled up, your back against the wall, and your hands still—in gloves—and on your knees. The door groans against it's bearings as it slowly rolls open.
A new, but recognisable figure wanders into the room. You know him; you've met him.
His crusty black hair is pulled back into a half-assed pony tail, which is complemented nicely by the unshaven stubble on his chin and moustache. There's also a notable scar across his cheek that looks pretty decent for a old guy.
Not really old. But mid-thirties seemed pretty old to someone who still had all their youth left.
You tilt your head down, giving your eyes that hint of edge and aggression while the man lets the door slide shut behind him again.
"Hello, Rina," he orates as he makes his way to the small metal table in your cell, pulling a chair for himself and sitting into it. "It's been quite a while."
You peer at him with malice, just behind the soft hairs of your half-real fringe, you grit your teeth.
"Aizawa."
"It's quite uncomfortable in here, wouldn't you say?"
You only flare your nostrils in reply, digging your fingernails into your palms.
Why's he here?
"Aren't you curious why I decided to pay you a visit? Come, join me," he points to the chair on the other side of the table, offering your seat. "There's no need for the steely attitude, you and I both know it's not going to work on me."
