God I hated this.

I couldn’t walk without my back hurting, sitting in that shitty pub more nights than none every week was killing me.

I used to run my fingers around the edges of the glass in front of me, desperately looking for a distraction whilst my friends pounded back drinks like there was no tomorrow. They stuck around despite everything that happened - but every time they looked at me I could almost taste the pity and disappointment in their eyes. It made me physically sick.

I remember the first time they brought me there, to the pub. It was a week after the incident, a fair walk from my apartment down the road. It was the week after the Hero’s League had sawed off my wings for wanting to resign, so they could put them in their shitty museum worth millions. Makes me think about what other previous hero’s had to go through just to retire. But anyway, I remember how everyone immediately recognised me, and I remember how everyone in the room shared the same look of empathy and shame. They were looking directly at me, my bandaged torso and stitches in my back. I despised it.

But for some reason, i kept coming back. The liquor gave me a distraction from all the shit i’ve had to endure. It also re filled a part of me. One that had been missing for what seemed like months.

Ever since the Hero’s League got torn down, I’ve felt like my purpose had been altered in some way - or just all together eradicated. I always linked it back to wishing I was still a Hero. Wishing i was still looked up at by being the poster boy with an recognisable, friendly face. But no. All those nights filling myself up with alcohol until my brain felt numb made me realise something.

I didn’t miss the League, I missed Phobia.

Despite them being a literal supervillain group, they kept me busy, gave me something to fight for and against.

I missed having work where I could fight and learn about different people.

And, God I missed Shifter.

We were absolutely horrible to each other, beating each other into bloody pulps on an average workday, but it was the moments of sudden vulnerability that kept me curious.

Especially when he found me on the floor of the Hero’s League building’s toilets, bawling my heart out in the furthest cubicle from the door. He’d disguised himself as one of the people from the offices or something, I could tell from the Black suit he was wearing, matching all the other workers in the building.

When he first came over, he still had the same cold, serious yet insulting demeanour around him. I think him seeing me, shaking, hiding behind my wings desperately whilst my eyes were puffy from sobbing made him realise something. Or remember something. You could tell by the look in his eyes, practically hearing the cogs in his head churn.

I still remember the way he acted. It was the first sign of empathy I’d ever seen him give off. I still remember the way he sighed, the way he put his calloused hands against my cheek before pulling me into a stiff hug. It was strange. The whole interaction was strange. Ever since then he‘d acted differently, and I had a hunch that he resonated with me in that moment - even if it was just a bit.

Shifter becoming this sympathetic and trustworthy person towards me was a strange, yet sharp turn. He’d gone from trying to put his hammer through my head to trying to get me out of situations when we‘d have to physically fight. It was weird. The whole thing was weird. This was weird.

And i loved it.

He felt like the only person who related to me. I don’t know if that was because he had started to show basic empathy, or if he went through the same shit or what, but i felt heard. He gave me genuine hope.

Shifter was such a big influence on me that I started to adapt his morals. I started to see the problems within the League, his persuasive nature and relatability made me weak. Now i think about it, Shifter was the reason I managed to leave the Hero’s League, and i couldn’t have been more confident with my decision. I had left, I wasn’t experiencing the constant abuse Shifter told me about anymore. I was supposed to be free. So why did i feel trapped?

Shifter’s disappearance hit me hard. He’d gone missing completely, and I think that contributed back to the lack-of-freedom feeling. I witnessed it first hand. He was hit badly during the Hero’s League‘s destruction. The last I saw of him was those bright blue eyes staring at me from the crowd, his hair matted with blood and rubble from the explosion. I know he wasn’t dead, even though he was announced it, because the book told me otherwise. You could only get to him if you pierced his heart, but the news doesn’t know that, and i won’t let them find out either.

His disappearance left me to spiral. I couldn’t see him, hear him. I had convinced myself I’d never get the chance to feel his fingers on my face again, that I’d never feel loved again.

Hell, I would’ve done anything to get him back.

I needed the reliability I had before back, and desperately. I wanted to be loved again, to have him tell me it’d be all okay and it was just a strange facade that my mind had created. But it wasn’t. He was gone. I’d lost my purpose, my hope. My Micheal.

So, imagine my surprise now i’m sat in the same shitty pub, my head against the table, my skin sticking to the wood, catching a glimpse of the man i’d been yearning for for the past three years.