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01

Lost and Found

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In front of the doors, she stood still among the crowd of flowing students. The first day of school, it's cold, the sun shines meekly through winters wind, that of which rushes the teenagers into school - bidding them good day.

In the middle of the fading waves of students, a girl fiddled nervously with her sweater sleeve - she stood out like a sore thumb; in her rose pink sweater and black jeans, surrounded by bright lemon gowns and blue suits; she bit the inside of her cheek.

Regardless of her anxiousness, she swallowed her fear, gripping her worn out messenger bag with clenched fists. It's now or never - because if she bailed now, after all the paperwork, and all the preparations, and all the time both she and her mother invested, she wouldn't be able to show her face here ever again. It was then, in front of the large, extravagantly over the top double doors, that she took her first steps into the school that was once distant in her dreams; Ouran Academy.

It was a beautiful place, she thought, even more so than the pictures on the website portrayed. It was an impossibly large place, with the huge fields surrounding it, the smooth pavement walkways to the different entrances and the gardens, to the gates that circled the property. It made her feel small, being engulfed by such architecture and design.

She couldn't wait to visit the gardens in spring.

Inside the halls, the pitter patter of footsteps echoed off the tall walls, painted pristinely, and the ceiling that seemed higher than the sky. The chit chat of students somehow eased her, as she caught snippets of “how are you”s, and “it’s good to see you're doing well”s were exchanged. They sounded like normal people, which, honestly, she felt silly for not expecting. Rich people are, in fact, people. That comforts her for an odd reason.

While looking at a guide she was given, she left in the supposed direction of her new classroom, hoping she doesn't get lost in this maze of a school.

- nobody -

Great. Amazing. Good going, (Y/N).

Lost, is just what she had become. Though, really, who could blame her? All the halls look the same, it seemed they stretched for miles and miles - unending hallways of doom, is what she'd come to call them. All the classes are in session, so nobody's roaming the halls but herself; she's late for class, and is short of breath from running from door to door, already on the third floor, and she can't find her classroom. A nightmare come true.

Then, she heard footsteps. A hopeful flutter rose in her chest.

Turning towards the sound, a boy walked down the hallway - tall, jet black hair, styled pristinely and smoothly; not a strand out of place. He seemed to be looking through a notebook as he walked, holding maybe two or three of them under his arm, his glasses glaring from the light that welcomed it's way through the window.

"Um, excuse me.."

Her fear of missing her first class overcame that of talking to the unfamiliar male. Her hand went to tap the collarbone of hers that peeked out from the neckline of the sweater, a nervous habit she had.

His head lifted, notebook snapping shut - he examined the girl. Now only ten feet away, she saw the steely gray of his eyes and the flecks of brown that peeked through. His head tilted, a curious frown adorned his lips as he questioned, "Yes? Who may you be?"

"I'm, uh-" the stutter on her tongue made her cringe, "I'm the new transfer student, who got the scholarship. I got myself lost while trying to find my class," she exhaled shakily, cursing herself for stumbling over her words.

"Ah," he nodded in understanding, "I see. And you need help to your class?"

"Yes! I mean, if you don't mind." Stepping closer, she showed him the paper she's been grasping - all crinkled up from her grip.

"That's class 3-B, on the second floor. From the stairway, it should only be a few doors or so down."

Oh my god. I totally missed it.

"Oh! Thank you!" A shy smile graced her lips as she stepped back, turning towards the stairs and took off running - almost slipping in the process.

The male watched her retreating form curiously.

- nobody -

One embarrassingly late entry, an annoyed teacher, and a few profuse apologies later, she was settled almost in the middle of the room, surrounded by students who scribbled notes furiously in their notebooks - well, except one girl, who was asleep by the window.

The teacher droned on, and she, bored, doodled in her dollar store notebook. Light pencil lines taking form of random flowers, clouds, eyes, anything that her pencil wanted, she let it do.

After class ended and the teacher left, the students packed their things and began shuffling along; sitting on desks, making small talk, pairing up to go to classrooms together, the like. Since she was looking out the window, copying the birds perched on the branch of a bare cherry blossom tree in her notebook, she saw the once sleeping girl wipe her eyes and yawn - grabbing her bag and heading out with a lazy drag to her step.

Right as the door had closed behind her, only did the girl realize; she left her notebook laying on the desk.

She closed her own, haphazardly tossing her items into her bag, walking over and grabbing the brightly colored thing in her hand. I should probably go give this to her , she thought, and she went to open the door to do just that, but the unnamed girl was out of sight.

Maybe she'll be in another one of my classes. Besides, this is only the first one. Hopefully i'll be able to give this back soon.

- nobody -

The day, unexpectedly, seemed to flow by quickly. She was able to find the rest of her classes relatively easily, and thankfully so, with the help of a few kind teachers. The sun, now, was much lower in the sky, as late afternoon had settled in at the order of the clocks hand. The winter breeze had taken the clouds across the sky, to who knows where, leaving the endless blue clear as crystal.

In the corner of her eye, she caught that familiar head of burgundy turn a corner, so she turned to followed after. That had to be her; the one who'd forgotten her notebook, that is.

There was a lot of people going this way, she noticed - girls with excited grins, the loud chattering and large crowd made it hard to catch up to the clueless girl.

"Hey! 'Scuse me! You forgot this! Um, excuse me!"

It was no use. The echoing of everyone's conversations made it hard for anyone to hear, or be heard - especially with the meek voice she was using. She just decided to follow the crowd, hoping she would get a chance to return what was lost.

They approached a pair of large doors, intricate engravings and swirls decorating it. the talk then became squeals as they opened, the bright overhead lights momentarily blinding, as flower petals flew out in a rush of warm air gracefully.

What the hell?

Seven males stood, charming smiles adorning their handsome features, the middle ones hands outstretched in a grand gesture. His voice, light and welcoming, only stirred up even more excitement.

"Welcome, ladies! to the Ouran High School Host Club!"

Host club? What on earth ?

The excited greetings and squeals of the girls cut off her thoughts, as she stood in bewilderment. They all went in, in bunches at a time, then were led off by one of the males and sat at tables, with tea, cakes, sandwiches, you name it - what was this, speed dating?

As she stood outside the door, brows furrowed in confusion, the lost notebook was held tightly in her grasp. She was unsure of just what it is that she should do. she saw the girl, through the doors now propped open, by the far left to the room by the wide window - with two other girls, and... Twins? Boyfriends? Wait, what-

"Don’t be shy, princess,"

Her free hand was lifted and taken into the palm of another; who then lead her into the room gingerly. The tall blond kissed her knuckles, peering at her confused and shy expression through his long lashes. Violet eyes met with her own starstruck ones.

A deer in headlights is what she reminded him of.

He lowered her hand, keeping hold of it, "princess?"

She snapped out of her frozen state, as a garden of pink bloomed on her cheeks, both shy and unbelievably anxious. "M- uh, me? Oh, um..."

The blond grinned kindly at her timidness; releasing her hand, to place his pointer finger under her chin to raise her lowered head - forcing their eyes to meet once again. "No need to be shy," her breath hitched, too close to him for comfort, "who are you here to see, princess?"

He's already called her princess three times, now. She couldn't be any more uncomfortable.

"N-no," her head shook, and the males hand fell to his side, head tilting in confusion. "I just followed someone here so I could return a notebook they lost... I, I'm not here to see anyone."

Her eyes searched, and landed on just the girl she was looking for; and without a second thought, only desperate to escape this awkward situation she found herself in, she jogged towards the girl and let out a shaky breath. Tamaki stood, left even more confused than anything else.

Unbeknownst to herself, a tall boy with glasses watched her curiously from his spot at a table; eyebrows raised, causing some of his customers to question his unusual actions.

"Excuse me!" She slowed to a stop, tapping the girl on the shoulder, and the two... Twins? Yes, twins, paused what they were doing to both quirk a brow at her interruption. She bowed her head, explaining herself, "I'm so sorry to intrude, but you left your notebook in class earlier this morning."

The girl let out a sound of surprise, and thanked her for returning it. She hadn't even known she was missing it.

"Kaoru, who's this?" One deviously smirked, throwing his arm over the shoulders of his other half. "I don't know, Hikaru. The new scholarship student, perhaps?" A matching smirk, that, for some reason, made her stomach drop as she tried to slowly back away from the devilish twins.

Her back collided with a tray, hot liquid and broken tea cups clattering on the floor along with the clang of the tray hitting marble.

"Oh, gosh! Are you okay, miss?"

She quickly turned around, face red, as she had gotten the attention of the rooms occupants, curious gazes burning into her like fire. Her skin itched with embarrassment.

"Oh, oh my gods! I'm so sorry! Here, let me clean it up.." She dropped to her knees with a thud, picking up shards of broken porcelain, the design of flowers and delicate gold now nothing but trash of what they once were. The guilt she felt was suffocating.

The male, a bit shorter, with large hazel eyes and chocolate hair, kneeled down to help, a polite smile on his face as he assured her it was alright. Another, who she assumed to be, host kneeled down with a few napkins and a broom in hand, a stoic face kept as he helped clean.

After the mess was dealt with, all eyes remained on her; she didn't know what to do. Her face was hot with hues of red - she fiddled with her fingers, unsure of what to say.

"Hey, isn't that the commoner who won the scholarship recently?" A girl spoke. A hum of “ohhs,” washed over the room, and with that, chatter started rolling in.

"Ohh, I heard that she won through an art program!", and "she couldn't even afford a uniform?", and "she's so clumsy. I wonder what she thinks she's doing here."

This, though, made a certain blond beam. New opportunities to learn about commoners and their way of life was something he always welcomed, and it was that very thought that he had while he walked up to the girl, who seemed to be caving in on herself in this moment.

Kyoya decided to talk to her about how she'll pay them back for the broken teacups later. She's flustered enough as it is, he supposed.

"Ah, yes! A commoner! Tell me, How-"

"Uhm, I, I'm sorry! I have to go!"

One deep bow and a fast spoken apology later, she sprinted out of the room, down the hall, and down flights of stairs. She sprinted the way home, that day - overwhelmed out of her mind - trying to outrun her anxious feelings.

Tamaki stood, a mischievous smile on his face.

(maybe those shady twins have rubbed off on him, after all.)

- nobody -

The club room, now emptied of customers, was lit only by the light that danced its way through the window as the hosts sat, gathered around, beckoned by the king himself.

Kyoya sighed at his dear friends antics.

"Guys, I really think we should leave her alone. She obviously didn't mean to come here in the first place, so, senpai, let's just let her be." Haruhi, bless her, felt this odd need to stick up for the girl; having been in just her situation before, she understood, she did - though, she also understood Tamaki's unyielding curiosity and need to befriend literally everyone. She sweatdropped as she silently apologized to the new girl in advance.

Tamaki stood from his seat on the couch, mouth opening, ready to state his claim - but of course, the twins beat him to it.

"Now, now, Haruhi," Kaoru's airy voice started, "she caused such a scene. And broke our brand new tea cups!" Hikaru continued, then both chimed "she has to do something about this," shrugging nonchalantly in sync.

"Ah, yes, that commoner ruined our fine china. It's only natural we have her pay us back, correct?" Kyoya added, adjusting his glasses smartly; sparing a glance at the sulking Tamaki, who's crouched on the floor with a pout. "I'll make sure I see to it."

And just like that, Tamaki's mood did a 180, as he jumped up and propped his head in his hand - eyes sparkling with something akin to excitement. "Yes! She does have to pay us back after all," he flicked his blond hair with his index finger, "and besides, I'm curious as to who the new commoner is. Kyoya, do you know?"

"Well, from the records I've read through, her name is (L/N) (F/N). She's here on a scholarship, her studies focusing on the arts," with cool confidence he spoke, collected as ever, as he skimmed through the documents pulled up on his laptop.

"Oh! So (N/N)-chan's an art student?" Honey chimed. His curiosity spiked, wondering of what her works would look like. He hugged usa-chan to his chest tightly, perched on Mori's shoulders.

"It appears so. Actually, I ran into her on the 3rd floor hallway this morning, she was late, running through the halls searching for her classroom. She seems a bit... Scattered, to say the least," his laptop closed with a snap, then he placed it away in his carry on. "I will talk to her tomorrow." He added, exasperatedly.

"Actually, Kyoya," Tamaki added, voice soft and confident, "bring her to the host room to discuss the matter. I want to chat with her myself, as well." Kyoya withholds a sigh, nodding his head at the leader.

"Alright, hosts! Meeting adjourned!"

Haruhi, unlike Kyoya, sighed heavily. Tomorrow was going to be another eventful day.

- nobody -

Home, finally home.

Kicking her vans off, she walked into the small apartment. A bit messy, with a few cups on the coffee table and loose papers and letters that was scattered over the surface - a basket of socks sat on the couch, waiting to be put away.

She ignored all that, and crashed in her room with a grunt of relief. Changing into more comfortable clothes, she made her way to the kitchen, and peered out the small window by the sink, letting the fiery oranges and inky blues of the on-coming night sky give her comfort. The cold water from the faucet chilled her hands, then she went to work making her mother lunch for work tomorrow. She'll probably be asleep before the woman returns, so she thought she might as well go ahead and prepare it.

The apartment, quiet, save for the drying machine that hums and bumps every now and then, was warm. Her cat was curled up on her pillow, her garden box sat at the window sill looked happy and full of life, if not for the few browning leaves here and there. The crystals sat on her nightstand contentedly, the carpet under her feet welcomed her - she was glad to be home.

She lied on her bed, her head beside the sleeping feline on the side of it, who started purring at her arrival.

She fell asleep, on top of the blankets, to the sound of the cars driving by, her noisy drying machine, and the purr of her cat.

The moon bid her goodnight from outside the window.

- nobody -

At least today, she didn't get lost again; she made sure to memorize her classes and what floors they were on, so when lunch came around this time, she knew exactly where to go, thankfully.

Today she wore a muted yellow sweatshirt and light washed jeans rolled up a few times at her ankles, making a clear effort to not stick out so much in the sea of yellow and blue - feet clad in the same worn out vans she always wore.

The lunch hall buzzed with chatter, students happily munching on their overpriced trays of food, gathered in their little cliques. She looked around the large room for a moment, then went and settled at an empty table, close to the exit, and pulled out a small lunch bag. Inside was a peanut butter sandwich she threw together hurriedly this morning, along with a small bag of pretzels and a bottle of strawberry milk.

The slight shake of her cold hands made it a bit difficult to open the milk bottle, but when she finally managed to open it, she gulped.

Forgot to drink water this morning, oops.

Squeals suddenly erupted from all around the cafeteria, making the girl jump, almost spilling the flavored drink - looking towards the door, she saw just what she expected to see;

Those boys from yesterday. She wondered, just what is it about them that everybody gets so excited for? Why're they such a big deal? Well, yeah, they're handsome, but honestly, what else are they? Playboys? She just wanted to eat her lunch in peace-

Someone cleared their throat from the other side of her, "Excuse me, (Y/N)?" She turned to face them - oh! It's the boy from the hallway. She gave a small smile.

"Oh! Hello. Yeah?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," she felt the stares of multiple others on her, and to be perfectly honest, it made her skin crawl. How does he know her name, anyway?

"I'm Ootori Kyoya, the manager of the Host Club."

...Oh. Oh shit. Her eyes widened.

"I believe you were there yesterday, correct?" The way he spoke, cooly, confidently and like he was better than herself - she didn't like it one bit. She nodded reluctantly.

"So I'll presume you know why i’m here," another nod. "you're responsible for breaking property of the club, you see, so I'll have to ask you to replace what was lost."

Her heart dropped. From what she could tell of the broken pieces of porcelain on the floor yesterday, it looked expensive. There’s no way she could afford to replace it. She has bills to pay, food to buy.

"I'll now ask you to come to the club room, Music room 3, to discuss on how the damage will be paid after school ends. Is this alright with you?" His glasses glinted in the light, the polite smile on his face did nothing to comfort her - chills grew on her arms.

She nodded again, tongue refusing to cooperate.

"Alright, well, we'll see you then, miss (Y/N)." And with that, he struts away - she glared at his retreating back.

She felt as if she'd just seen the devil. Why? Maybe it was how businessman-like he was, his mask of politeness didn't set right with her - felt as if the male in front of her wasn't really there, if that makes any sense. As if conversing with a mannequin.

She shook her head, and sighed at her loss of appetite. Maybe she'll go ahead and go to her next classroom.

Haruhi glanced at her with understanding.

- nobody -

She stared out the window at the end of the hallway, in front of the dreaded host club doors. Outside the sun hung low, barely managing to shine through the clouds that covered sky; no birds were seen, as the first few raindrops tapped on the window.

I can’t avoid this for forever. Let's go.

With a moment of false bravery, she opened the door and peeked around the crack - to see all the hosts lounging and conversing among themselves.

The one she bumped into the other day, Haruhi, is what she'd heard them call him, wore a deadpan expression as the tall blond was chasing the twins around the room, who cackled as they ran. A shorter blond was sat with a very tall male at a table, sharing vanilla cake with a smile on his face. Well, the tall one was hard to read, but the blond looked pretty happy. Then there was Ootori - sitting at a table with his laptop perched open, tapping away, a concentrated frown rests on his features.

Gulping down the nervous lump in her throat, she spoke in a timid voice; "excuse me... I was asked to come here,"

All the hosts stopped what they were doing and looked to the girl, standing in the doorway with a nervous flush on her face.

The shorter blond verbally awww ed at the sight, swallowing his mouthful of cake and skipping towards the girl. "You must be (Y/N)-chan, right?"

She nodded.

"Oh! Welcome, sit down. Haruhi, be a dear and go get this lady some coffee!" Haruhi growled at Tamaki under her breath, these damn rich people.

She cracked a small smile at that, "No! No, it's fine. You don’t have to. Uhm," she walked deeper into the room, eyes exploring the empty space. Her eyes, once again, met pools of warm violet; she averted her gaze quickly. He frowned.

"Actually, Ootori asked me to come here," said male smirked, closing his device, "also, while I'm here," she paused to bow, looks of confusion played across the expressions of the hosts, "I wanted to apologize for breaking the tea set. I'm not sure how I could repay you, but-"

A warm hand on her shoulder, standing her up right interrupted her apologetic rambling - it was that boy again. I still don’t know his name, do I?

"Fear not, dear commoner, don’t worry about the tea cups! I just wanted to talk to you abou-"

Suddenly, two pairs of hands pried the obnoxious male away from her, arms linked over each others shoulders as he flopped on the ground dramatically behind them. She raised her eyebrows.

"You know, those tea sets are expensive,"

"We got them imported all the way from Scotland, you know? It’s a shame they were broken,"

The smirks on the two auburn's faces made her stomach drop.

"Guys, stop scaring her," Haruhi interrupted their little charade, smiling sympathetically at the girl in front of her. "Don't worry, (Y/N). We'll figure something out, don’t let these two dimwits get to you," she sent a quick glare at said dimwits, and the girl instantly felt relieved. Haruhi was comforting to talk to, so her nerves were eased.

"Yes, indeed we will," ah, there he is, the man of the night: Mr. Businessman. She turned her head towards him, who slowly walked over to where she stood with Haruhi and the twins. "Now, either you can pay us back, or, you could help around the club for awhile, until you've settled your debt."

"Helping out as in washing dishes, fetching groceries, making the food, and the likes. Not hard tasks."

She frowned. That wasn't good. She has a part time job to work at, there is literally no time for after school housekeeping.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I could do? I could pay it off, but it would take a few months.." She trailed off, thinking in silence for a moment. If she put a little of her paycheck up each week, it would only take 3-4 months to pay it off. But she really, really needs that extra cash. "I work after school most days, so I don’t really have time to stay after classes. Um.. Maybe I could come in early each morning instead to do the chores? Would that be okay?"

Kyoya listened carefully, nodding as she spoke. Where do commoners get the time to work like that? And attend school?

"Yes, I suppose that would be okay. I'll have a to-do list made. Oh, you'll need keys to get in early. I can get those made soon. When shall you start?"

Tamaki didn't like any of what he was hearing. He quickly wondered how Kyoya could make the girl come in early after knowing she had to work after school. His compassionate heart got the better of him in that moment, a frown present on his handsome features as he stepped next to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"But you have to work after school, right, (Y/N)? Are you really okay with coming in so early?"

She froze for a moment. Why was he pitying her? She's only repaying a debt. She clenched her jaw for a moment, breathed in, and attempted to relax. He waited for her answer.

In all honesty, no. She's gonna be dead tired by the time she has to work, but what options does she have? She's already made up her mind. It'll only be for a little while that she'll be doing this. Only for a few months. Then it'll be over, just like that. It'll be over soon.

With newfound determination, she met Kyoya's steely eyes with a smile - at which his eyes widened for only a moment at. He smirked at her.

"Yes, I'm sure. Thank you for the concern, but I need to repay this debt." She answered Tamaki, not taking her eyes off Kyoya's. She treated this as a challenge - and Kyoya was more than amused, to say the least.

Haruhi was shaking her head at the whole ordeal.

"I can start next week. Is that alright with you, Ootori?" And just like that, she averted her eyes again. Back into the socially awkward hunch of her shoulders, she sighed softly.

"Yes, that's quite alright."

03

Forget-me-not Blue

Weeks had passed, and the daffodils began to bloom, welcoming spring into season that April.

(Y/N) was excited, even if things were barely starting to come to life. The early spring flowers had arrived, and that meant the butterflies and bees would start dancing around again, and the cherry blossoms would bloom, and everything would be alight with new life and begin the new year with vibrancy. She couldn't wait until she was able to walk through Ouran's gardens that would be full of roses and lavender and dandelions.

It seemed that the entire school shared her excitement, as the whole campus was vibrating with excitement and joy. The colors seemed brighter and the sky seemed clearer and the spring air was crisp and clean, brushing it's hands through the trees that were budding with new leaves and fruits.

All was well that day. (Y/N) got to spend time with her mother that morning before she had to run off to work, managed to remember all of her school supplies, and even got to finish her makeup on time; she was wearing one of her favorite outfits, a cherry wood brown turtleneck and a pleated plaid skirt, paired with the dirty vans she always wore.

She stayed late yesterday to make the food beforehand instead of going in early that morning, so she managed to get two extra hours of sleep, and felt relatively rested.

She decided that the day was good.

Everybody in homeroom was chatting amongst themselves, as usual, while cute drawings of different characters and flowers adorned the whiteboard with little phrases and words next to them. Her head was low as she entered, quietly making a beeline towards her usual desk and pulling out her notebook.

Something scrunched under her papers.

The girl moved her notebook, curious brows raised, and there, on her desk, sat a yellow sticky note, with a sun wearing sunglasses and a little daisy sitting around the neat, swirly handwriting that read;

Come to the club room after classes, We have planning to do~

Just when she thought she'd gotten away from them, they pulled her right back into their grubby hands.

She sighed, trying to hide the slight grin that made it's way to her face. She propped her head up on one hand, staring blankly at the whiteboard at the front of the room.

I wonder what's going on this time.

It wasn't long before everyone got settled and into their seats. Now, all she had to do, was wait.

- nobody -

Everyone is so lively today.

Even more so than usual, the host club's atmosphere was effervescent, seeming to bubble over with what she assumed was excitement – even the guests were basically dancing in their seats.

"So, Kyoya! When will the annual Spring Dance be held this year?"

"Yeah! Everybody has been talking about it already, we're all so excited!"

"Well, ladies, we plan to have it soon, in early May. We're actually having preparations being made at this moment."

"Oh, wow, really!? We have to start looking at gowns, then!"

"Yes, we're looking forward to it! I wonder what the theme will be this year."

Spring Dance?

"That, my dears, is a surprise. Just know that all the hosts have worked very hard to find only the best decorations and catering for our guests."

They all swooned at Kyoya's smooth cut words, alight with his usual false cheeriness. He smiled at his guests politely, listening to their excited rambling.

Huh. I should've figured they would have one. Just slipped my mind. Maybe that's why they wanted me up here, to help with preparations?

"Oh, (N/N)-chan!!! You look so pretty!"

Almost knocked back by Honey's embrace, she hid a giggle, letting him hug her – now that it's been nearly a month, the timid girl has gotten used to her elder's childish mannerisms.

"Hello, senpai. Um, thank you!"

He laughed cutely before letting her go. "So you got Tama-chan's note? I wasn't sure if you'd come visit us today."

"Yeah, I almost didn't see it actual-"

"Oh, Princess! Welcome!"

Yet again, she was scooped up into a pair of arms, but this time, she was twirled around and around and around, before finally her feet touched the ground once more, a pair of warm hands on her shoulders.

Her cheeks were pink from that welcome, and head spinning after that twirl; she still wasn't used to Tamaki's bear hugs. As nice as they were, they always made her chest flutter and twist, as if, suddenly, the only thing that was there was warmth, and a rosy cinnamon scent that she could lose herself in.

(Y/N) smiled.

"Hi, Tamaki-senpai."

"I'm glad you came today! We have many things to discuss, like the-"

"Spring Dance?"

"Oh! Yes. I'm guessing you've heard?"

His hands fell from her shoulders, as his head tilted like that of a puppy, blonde hair shining like gold under the florescent lights that hung in chandeliers from the ceiling high above.

"Well, just now I heard some of Kyoya's visitors talking about it- oh, I think you have people waiting, senpai."

She nodded her head towards the girls waiting patiently with smiles on their pretty faces. The taller nods. "Yeah, I'll tell you more about it later, okay? So don't leave!"

"Okay, don't worry! I'll be right here."

He smiled once again before greeting his guests and walking with them to a table.

She took it upon herself to sit, folded up in a sofa situated at the back of the expansive room, and plugged her earbuds in to block out the chatter that echoed. Plucking her journal out from her bag, she balanced it on her knee, continuing a sketch she'd been working on recently–a myosotis plant, more commonly known as forget-me-not's.

Small flowers, known for their symbolism of faithful love and reminiscent feelings; their color, known as "true blue," was the color of trust, loyalty and truth. She chose these flowers for an assignment in her art class, the project being on symbolism in everyday objects.

She was a bit of a nerd for those kinds of things.

From beside the focused girl peered a curious ginger over her shoulder. A pair of honey eyes roamed across the paper, watching as her hand moved and twitched, careful yet messy in a way he hadn't really seen before.

"What're you drawing, (Y/N)?"

Music drowned out his words, earbuds nestled safely in her ears as she just continued what she was doing, unbothered.

He decided to tuck his voice away for now, watching the pencil as it dragged across the paper, quietly. He moved closer, a sheepish smile playing on his lips as he crouched, propping his arm on the armrest of the chair, head leaning close to the oblivious girl's shoulder.

He'd seen those flowers before, overflowing in the pots that sit right outside his mansion's front doors, serving as a welcome whenever he arrived home. He never realized how pretty they were until that moment.

Soon enough she turned the page, and from the corner of his eye he saw a nonchalant smile pull on her cheeks - she wrote a message in her book.

How long have you been spying on me?

Kaoru chuckled, then pulled out an earbud of hers.

"About five minutes now, actually."

"Hm. You're such a stalker, you know that?"

Closing her book she turned towards the younger twin, headphone swinging and smacking Kaoru in the face as she moved; she held back an embarrassed laugh.

"Those are forget-me-not's, right?" His head tilted, lights reflecting in his eyes like constellations.

She lit up. "Yeah. I'm just doing rough sketches for a project I'm working on... I'm pretty excited to start painting it."

"That's right!" The girl jumped at his exclamation, dropping her journal with a thud, "We've never seen your paintings before. When will you show us your winning masterpiece, (Y/-"

"What's this?"

Her cheap journal was plucked from the floor by slim hands, mischievous eyes studying the contents of the page that had revealed itself from the prior fall.

"Wai-"

"Ooh, I never took you as the obsessive type, (Y/N)."

Kaoru stood abruptly from his crouch and walked over to where his twin was in front of the poor girl, lips falling open, just a bit, just enough to suck in a breath he didn't know he needed.

"And for Tamaki, no less!"

Imprinted on the thin pages of her grimoire, was an unfinished portrait of none other than Tamaki Suoh, eyes sleepy and hair a mess, but a smile as bright as the very sun. You could feel the warmth he radiated through the page.

What took Kaoru by surprise was how much detail was put into the whole thing, even if it was a bit sloppy. It looked like it held every color in the world, even though the only thing that was there was the dull, grey lead of the pencil and bits of eraser shavings caught here and there.

She jumped up and tried to snatch it out of the taunting male's hands, though he just held it over her head.

She felt like crying; nobody was supposed to see that.

"What are you all doing?"

None other than the king himself asked, taking long strides towards the twins. Hikaru couldn't get enough of this. For one reason or another, he felt acid deep down in his stomach that bit at him from the inside, but on his tongue was the sweet taste of hell's fire, and he would deal with the burning of his conscience later.

"Seems like you have another fan, boss! Look at this."

Though, the girl wouldn't give up that easily. She jumped up once again, eyes glaring holes through the auburn's head, and a shiver crawled up his spine. He almost considered giving it back. Almost.

Tamaki was there now, and it felt like everything was in slow motion for her. Yeah, maybe she was being dramatic, but she couldn't help it. That was private and special to her, not to mention how embarrassed she'd be if he saw it.

(Y/N) disregarded how she was now chest-to-chest with Hikaru Hitachiin, and how pink dusted his cheeks as his eyes slanted down at her own ones in a silent declaration of war. The tips of her toes kissed the marble of Ouran's floors as she leaned against the much, much taller male in effort to get back what was rightfully hers, but he only stretched his arm out further, completely ignoring everyone else's presence in the now emptying room.

In that moment, nothing mattered to either of them. There was nothing else but each other and the mutual feeling of a bloody red.

...Save for the other club members of course, who watched the whole ordeal with amusement.

Kyoya sipped on his earl grey. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Hikaru is flirting, wouldn't you agree?"

Haruhi's hand clasped over her mouth in an effort not to laugh. She hummed in silent agreement. "Yeah, I'd definitely say so."

"(Y/N), you drew this...?"

It was those words that were the rain that washed the fire to ashes,  though the biting heat lingered even when she pulled apart from Hikaru. His glare snapped to the wall as he avoided eye contact. Her skin was red with embarrassment and anger, blood boiling and burning her from the inside. The older twin only stood, arms crossed and eyebrows drawn together with an angry pout plastered on his rose petal lips.

Though, what she didn't know was that Hikaru was nauseous with the nasty aftertaste of guilt, pitchforks stabbing at his lungs, making it hard for him to do anything but clench his fists and bear it. He didn't care about how he made her feel. Why would he? She was just another one of Tamaki's stupid fangirls.

Right...?

He couldn't keep himself from glaring over at (Y/N) one last time.

- nobody -

Tamaki cleared his throat, clapping his hands together as all the hosts gathered and watched him.

"So, as many of you know, the annual spring dance is upon us, and we've already booked the grand hall for the ceremony."

(Y/N) listened curiously from her seat beside Mori, whom she felt safest by at the moment. He didn't ask questions; he didn't pry; he didn't do much of anything, really. His quiet presence was cooling against the fire raging red underneath her skin.

"I thought we should all gather to choose a theme. Last year's was royalty, and the decorations and dress code played off of that."

That's so like them. The girl grinned quietly to herself, finding their predictable nature entertaining. "Does anyone have any ideas?"

The girl hesitated, just for a moment, swallowing Hikaru's thorny glare like sour medicine.

"What about a vintage theme?" She spoke.

"Vintage theme...?" Tamaki questioned aloud, tilting his head slightly, just like she noticed he'd always do when thinking.

"Yeah. Like age old antiques, soft colors, lace, the like. Unless you've already done something like that, I mean.."

"No, no. Actually... That's a really good idea, (Y/N)," Kyoya flipped through his little black book, jotting down the girl's idea.

"Yeah. Sounds good."

(Y/N) shifted at the sudden voice beside her, quiet but not shy. Mori wasn't even looking at her, not sparing a single glance her way, his face bearing the same sea glass expression.

She took Mori's words to heart, those words he probably thought nothing much of. She then elaborated her thoughts, a little clearer, a little more confident.

"I think it would be really elegant, not to mention economical. We could maybe even visit a few antique shops for some of the decorations."

No one added anything in, silently willing her to continue.

"Soft colors, like cream and periwinkle and mauve would do. Maybe we can even make some kind of dress code."

Still, no one.

"...I don't know."

"That's a wonderful idea, (N/N)-chan!" Exclaimed Honey from his cozy seat on Mori's lap.

"Yeah, we've never done anything like that before. It could be really pretty," added Kaoru.

Kyoya chimed in, "Any other ideas?"

"Nope! I think this is what we're going for this year, my dear Kyoya!"

As the hosts scattered amongst themselves, Honey tucked his arms snugly around (Y/N)'s legs with a wide, sweet smile; too wide, too sweet. In the moment, though, the girl was caught up in catching butterflies in her stomach. They listened to me, she thought. Her hands subconsciously found their way around the short male's small frame, as they tended to these days.

"(N/N)-chan, do you wanna walk with us outside?"

A sheepish smile stretched her lips as she replied. "Can't, senpai. I have to prepare tomorrow's food."

"Oh, about that, (Y/N)."

Honey reluctantly loosened his hold and marched back to his tall companion. Kyoya stood at her side now, tucking his phone away safely into the pocket of his trousers.

She hummed, listening.

"We're not opening the club tomorrow, so you don't have to have anything ready. Just go home and get some rest."

(Y/N) turned her head to peer up at him. His eyes were unfocused, looking out at the blooming colors of spring outside the windows. She didn't understand what he was thinking or feeling, or if he was feeling anything at all for that matter.

In that moment, he reminded her of the darkness that separates the stars.

- nobody -

The walk home was full of life, unsurprisingly. Wildflowers and green grass lined the roads, honeybees buzzing happily as they kissed the flowers and danced with butterflies. There was still a few hours of the day left, judging by how the sun was strung in the sky, so instead she decided to walk to a local park. It was small and well-worn but very peaceful, with its rusty swings and small pond.

Ducks waddled around in and out of the water. Birds chirped back and forth in the few trees as a lady struggled to keep her small dog from chasing a poor squirrel scurrying around the base of an oak.

Settling on the swings, (Y/N) took a second to unwind. The wind was soft and carried the scent of wild roses as it soothed her skin. There were yellow daffodils happily swaying by the pond. Everything was okay in that moment.

In a swift movement the girl kicked off her shoes and hopped out of the swing, laughing at herself when she stumbled. The grass felt like silk on her callused feet as she stepped towards the large rose bush, crouching to smell its pink petals. Carefully, she plucked one, two, three, four roses and skipped away to gather a few daffodils, cattails, and dandelions.

For mom, when she gets home.

Right as she was about to steal a pinecone from its branch, her phone vibrated annoyingly in her pocket.

2 new messages from " the host club 👑✨💞"

Since when was I in a group chat??

Ignoring it, (Y/N) decided to check it out later. How did they even get her Instagram though? It didn't matter, she figured. She'd probably spent far too long at the park, anyway, if the creamy orange beginning to color the sky was any indication. It was time to head back home.

With all different kinds of plants gripped securely in her dirty hand, she retrieved her discarded shoes and gingerly walked back towards her neighborhood.

- nobody -

It wasn't until (Y/N) found herself sprawled across her bed and once more attempting to wrap-up her forget-me-not sketch that she remembered the notifications she had received from the host club prior.

The mixed bouquet of wild flowers she had managed to concoct was placed on her mother's nightstand, along with a note on which she had scrawled a short but sweet message the moment she arrived back home. Aside from that, the only things she had her mind set on were homework (regardless of how little she was assigned), dinner, and sleep. It's true, she was tired,  a bit hungry as well, but she still chose to squeeze in some relaxing time to comfortably let her pencil dance across the designated page within her journal.

It almost amazed her how lost in thought she would find herself whenever she decided to let her creative side flow as freely as it did. It's as if she would switch over to autopilot and let nothing but her hand take control while her mind soared with an intoxicated sort of vigor as it explored every idea that subconsciously came to her head.

It was for this exact reason that it took her several moments to register the lit-up screen of her phone lying atop the cluster of unmade sheets just inches away.

Setting down her pencil, (Y/N) diverted her attention to the rectangular device and awkwardly shifted positions before picking it up and unlocking it. The number of messages from earlier had since multiplied, a prominent 61 plastered on the corner of the application.

haruhi.fuji: Well I know of a few thrift shops around near my apartment. You can find all kinds of hidden gems there.

haruhi.fuji: Don't know about antique stores though, but (Y/N)-chan might know of some.

tama_king: Thrift stores????

(58 more messages)

The corners of her lips upturned just enough for her to notice.

She opened the app and scrolled through the messages, skimming through notifications and following each member back. Well, accept for Hikaru, who hadn't even followed her in the first place. Hesitantly, (Y/N) typed out a message, then deleted it, then typed it out again, then deleted it. The girl sighed, chewing on her cheek, trying to decide what to say.

tama_king: Look (Y/N)s online!!

Well, leave it to Tamaki to point her out. Said girl settled for a simple greeting.

(username): hi everyone!

haruhi.fuji: (Y/N), we were just talking about what kind of decorations we should get for the spring dance.

(username): oh, well i figured we could just go looking through local shops to find authentic antique decor

haruhi.fuji: Like all of us out shopping together??

tama_king: That sounds like fun we should go see all the commoner shops together!

(Y/N) suddenly had regrets. All eight of them, six of which all likely hadn't ever even heard of a thrift store before, out and about? Even if she was starting to grow used to the lot of them, it was a whole other thing to be seen out in public with them. It wasn't that (Y/N) was embarrassed of them, but more so bothered by how much attention they seem to bring towards themselves. The socially awkward girl wasn't sure if she could handle that very well.

(username): i mean, sure??

haruhi.fuji: That sounds... ;;;

(username): yeah ik, migjt not be the best of ideas i've had huh

(username): *might

She quietly laughed to herself, trying to shake off the dread that was already piling on her shoulders.

tama_king: No, it sounds like a great idea!!

The "Oh, what have I done," slipped past her lips as she saw none other than Kyoya himself finalize the plans.

KyoyaOotori: I see you three have been planning an outing?

KyoyaOotori: And when are we all going to do this?

It was funny, because she could practically feel him shaking his head through the screen. Maybe the two of them were more alike than she had originally thought.

She decided then that she might as well go through with it.

(username): well, earlier you said i didn't have to prep for tomorrows guests, so i'm free tomorrow after school.

tama_king: The host club was planned to be closed tomorrow for preparations to be made for the dance. i'm sure our lovely guests wouldn't mind. so Kyoya, is tomorrow okay to go out shopping?

KyoyaOotori: I suppose that it would be a good learning experience to see what low-budget commoner living is like. So, yes, that sounds just fine. I'll make sure to let the others know.

It looked like all had been settled, so she switched the device back off and let it sit to the side. The sound of the door clicking shut and the A/C being tampered with alerted the young girl of her mother's arrival home, so she skipped into the doorway to greet her.

She looked tired, just as she always did, with the same empty smile and hollow eyes. (Y/N) hugged her and in a small voice, said hello.

"Heya, Pumpkin."

There was nothing else to be said as the woman kicked off her shoes and walked into her room, no doubtedly to sleep until she had to drag herself back out to work again. (Y/N) hoped she liked the flowers she had picked out for her.

Sometimes there is no worse feeling than guilt that will eat one out from the inside.

She felt as though the way that things were running in her house functioned like an unbalanced scale. Her mother always came home exhausted and worn-out as the result of working from dawn to dusk, and it hurt the young girl's heart to see her in such poor condition. It wasn't extremely often that she would even get the chance to say hello, and rarer still that she ever had the time to hold a good conversation.

They both loved each other more than life itself, and (Y/N) knew that better than anyone else, but with all the overbearing work her mother put up with, day and night, everything just seemed...

Unfair.

Bitter and unsavory thoughts aside, one glance at the clock on the microwave reminded her of the looming drowsiness she felt gradually washing over her. It had been a long day, and the next was certain to be even longer.

With this in mind, she experienced little to no hesitation before striding off towards her bathroom to ready herself for what she hoped to a good night's rest. Once she was curled up under the cotton sheets and had her stuffed animal of choice in a loving grip (not caring about how childish she may have seemed), the bluish light of her phone caught her attention as she slowly and reluctantly lifted up one eyelid.

Reaching for the device resting on her night stand, she opened both eyes; given how she hadn't really been exposed to the darkness of her room for a prolonged amount of time, it didn't take long to adjust to the screen's luminescent glow as she focused on the message displayed on her lock screen. A single notification was shown, and (Y/N) couldn't help but allow a small smile to make its way onto her face once she had processed what it read.

02

Windows to the Soul

The school is so peaceful at sunrise.

Walking down the empty halls of Ouran academy, the tired female got to soak in it’s quiet beauty; the soft yellows and pinks of the early morning sun lied beautifully on the white of the large window sills, casting everything in shades of pinks. She smiled softly to herself.

Tired as she may be, the sight of the clear sky, the stars still dotted sparsely across the expanse, she couldn’t help but feel in awe of it’s effortlessness; the red cardinals that floated in the air bid her good morning. Her light footsteps echoed down the hallway, along with the song she was humming as she walked.

Opening the door to the host club, she pulled all the curtains back and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, admiring the now bright turquoise of the sky before walking into the kitchen area - where a mountain of dirty dishes awaited her. She sighed at the sight, pulling on the blue rubber gloves that was left out for her - along with a grocery list from Kyoya - and got to work.

She decided that, maybe, it wouldn’t be as bad doing this as she thought it’d be. If its always this serene, maybe she’ll even come a bit earlier so she can just sit and watch the sunrise from the roof; she’d heard that there was a garden up there, but, she doubted that any of the plants would be in bloom at this time of year.

“(Y/N)?”

Her daydreaming came to a halt at the sound of a warm voice, honey like in it’s sticky sweet nature. She stopped the water and turned, removing the gloves and rolling down the sleeves of the dusty light blue mock-neck she was wearing, and peered at the male who somehow made it all the way to the kitchen without making a sound.

For some reason, her voice was soft - as if not to disturb the wistful feeling of the chilled air. “Oh, Tamaki, right? What are you doing here so early this morning?”

The male beamed when she said his name, a smile playing on his lips as he fully entered the room - the door closing with a soft click behind him. He took few steps nearer, and she noticed how sleepy he looked - and how the natural light that flooded the room made him glow, the golden of his messy hair nearly blinded her by how it shined. His eyes were smiling, warm in just what they were, in what they are; shimmers of blues and reds and violets made his iris the most beautiful shade of plum.

She noticed herself staring, and his smile growing - blushing, she averted her gaze towards the window. Tamaki kept his eyes on her.

The girls (S/C) skin seemed to sparkle in the light - the small acne scar on her face was highlighted, and oddly enough, he found it cute, how it sat on the apple of her cheek. The rich (E/C) of her iris’ was hidden from him by her bashfulness, but he found himself drawn to her, wanting to just look, to just see, because she keeps hiding herself away behind her eyelids and hunched shoulders - it was then, in that moment that he realized he wants to witness the beauty that hid herself away.

He realized he’d been silent, and a slight blush dusted his cheeks. “I just wanted to make sure you found everything okay, and to see if you needed help with anything. I mean, since it is your first day and all!”

The still air began to dance with Tamaki’s words; his breath twirling with the  once stagnant atmosphere.

For some reason, his words touched her. Maybe it was because she’s tired, or just in a sentimental mood, but she found herself thinking of how kind he was for going out of his way for something so small like that. She slipped into a smile with ease.

He beamed once again; like a puppy who got a treat.

“Aww, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you, though. I’m just finishing up the dishes, then I planned to go get the ingredients at lunch break since the shops aren’t open right now.”

Tamaki frowned, “then when are you going to eat?” He placed his hands on his hips, scolding the girl, “a lady can’t skip her meals,”

“Well, this lady can and will ,” she replied - a playful grin adorning her features; in truth, she was just going to drink some milk on the way, and she was fine with it. She can eat later. Maybe it was the blessing of the sun that made her relax in his presence.

Though, he was persistent. “At least make yourself something when you come to put the groceries away.”

She sighed, nodding hesitantly, “that’s okay, right? Like, I won’t have to pay for it?”

“Nope! Don’t worry about it. You have to eat well if you expect to be our errand girl, after all!”

There he goes, hiding away behind his obnoxious front again.

“Okay. But, we should be getting to class, now. Don’t wanna be late,”

Tamaki nodded, and opened the door for the girl - who scrambled out quickly - a thank you falling from her lips.

- nobody -

For some reason, she couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes of plum; how they looked in the sun, how bright and warm they were. How kind they seemed. But, then again, maybe she’s reading in too much of what they really were - merely eyes. She often read people well, purely out of either boredom or of curiosity - or sometimes, just because she felt drawn to them, just like she did in that moment, bathed in the beams of light through the open window.

The teacher was going in depth of color schemes and how different colors have been used, what they’ve signified throughout history.

purple, the color of royalty, ambiguity, wealth and magic.

In her sketchbook, beside the little coloms of notes she’d bothered taking, she began sketching the eyes of a male who’d managed to edge his way into the front of her usual fleeting thoughts. Unusual , is the word she settled on describing him as, with his obnoxiously over the top personality and his rose colored view of life. She’d only known Tamaki for a little over a week, and yet he’s already charmed his way into her subconscious.

Maybe she can understand why all those girls seem head-over-heels for him, now - though, she’s nowhere near that yet. Just, sketching a few pictures of his eyes, of his lips. Nothing more.

- nobody -

By the time lunch break rolled around, plenty more than just a few pages in her sketchbook was full of drawings of him, and none of them she was satisfied by. None of them reflected what she saw in them perfectly, and she’s scared she’ll forget if she doesn’t have something to remember it by.

Pulling the grocery list out from the back pocket of her black jeans, she headed out to the shops with a head full of cotton; mind too busy floating around the stars to be considered conscious.

The shops weren’t as busy as she imagined they’d be; only a few people mingling  around, much like herself. Tossing items one by one into the basket that hung on the crook of her arm, she thought of how bizarre it was for her to be doing this - doing errands for a host club, lest one made up of men she barely knew.

What were the chances of meeting them like the way she did? If they’d met a different way, she wondered if they would’ve even bothered to talk to someone as invisible as herself - because from her assumptions, people like them have no interest in wilting wallflowers like her.

It was lonely, feeling like nothing more than gum stuck to the bottom of peoples shoes.

Checking out the abnormal amount of overpriced groceries, she sighed as she speed walked her way back to the large campus of Ouran, promising herself a sandwich once she returns.

- nobody -

On the counter, haphazardly sat paper bags with a note in messy handwriting;

hi hosts,

sorry about the mess. ill come put these away + clean up after the guests etc. after classes end. i was running a bit late today :)

-(Y/N)

Kyoya’s clenched jaw relaxed at the for a moment while reading the small note. He stuffed it in his pocket with half a mind, and went to help prepare everything before their guests arrive - Haruhi preparing the tea and coffee, as well as pulling the premade sandwiches made by their new helper out of the fridge to place on plates, along with different kinds of cake, hand picked by Mitsukuni himself.

Haruhi was thankful for the new found speed of getting prepared, she now not having to stay late after school to make what seems like hundreds of sandwiches - the brunette still cringes thinking about the cramps she’d always get in her fingers afterwards.

Cracking her knuckles with a sigh, Haruhi made her way out to position herself for the opening of the doors; welcoming the ladies in an over dramatic fashion as always. She really couldn’t bring herself to dislike what she was doing - even if she used to attempt to convince herself otherwise, she rather liked getting to see the smiles on the girls faces, and getting to spend time with her unlikely bunch of friends made her warm inside - even if it was a bit awkward for the introverted girl. She charmed her guests, making them swoon, just as usual.

It felt like time had flown by before the guests had bid their goodbyes, and (Y/N) peeked her head through the door, eyes landing on the other females chocolate hues. “Hi, (Y/N)-san.”

The meek girl smiled small at the greeting, walking her way into the room, messenger bag slung over her shoulder and hair now pulled out of her face with a bobby pin on the top of her head.

“Hello Haruhi-san. I’m just here to help with clean up-”

“(N/N)-chan~!” She stumbled at the force of the impact of the 3rd year, arms locked around her waist in a tight hold, Honey’s grinning face shining up at the startled girl. “Um, hi, senpai.”

Haruhi chuckled at the sight, finding the timid nature of (Y/N) clashing with the clingy-as-ever Honey, amusing.

“Oh, Look who’s here!” Tamaki’s loud voice played off the walls, still as chirpy as ever - he took long strides towards the girl, still tied up in her elders embrace.

The host club was almost empty, save for the aforementioned blonds, the silent Takashi, Kyoya, who was in the back room going through the host’s profits today, and Haruhi, who mingled about with nothing better to do.

Well, maybe they wanted to get to see their little errand girl - not that they’d say that out loud, at least.

Honey squeezed her one last time, before letting go and trotting back over to Mori, who only mumbled his name in response. She was tense at the contact, it being unexpected; and understandably so, because a greeting like that for anyone who didn’t know Honey would be weird. She brushed it off as something she’d just have to get used to.

“Our dear little kitten, you’ve come to visit me, haven’t you?”

“So, (Y/N), do you want me to stay and help with clean up? I don’t have anything to do, so…” Haruhi trailed off, more as a statement, honestly, as she started wiping down tables.

“Um, okay! Thanks, Haruhi-san..” She paused, glancing over at the sulking Tamaki, who was being laughed at by Honey who sat happily in Mori’s arms - what a strange bunch.

After retreating the necessities, and bidding Mori and Honey a quick goodbye - kendo practice, mumbled the stoic with a nod of his head. he had a voice as deep as the ocean itself, she noticed, thick and dark blue, lulling itself through his chest. It was comforting to her, to say the least.

And that left the two girls, busying themselves with small tasks, and Tamaki, who, oddly enough, sat and observed them; his typically expressional features unreadable from the sparse glances the questioning girl was able to give him. Haruhi seemed happy enough, nonchalant smile on her pretty face as she packed up, sending a wave towards the girl cutely.

“Um, Tamaki-Senpai?”

Said male jumped at that, snapping his head towards the soft voice; “what’re you still doing here? Haruhi just finished up and tried to bid goodbye, but you didn’t even hear her.”

His eyebrows shot up - did he really not? He glanced around the now vacant room, not spotting his princess anywhere - only (Y/N), who awkwardly hovered by the armrest of the couch.

It wasn’t quite sunset yet, but the dandelion yellows that began to leak into the blue hues of the sky served as its near coming. She noticed how innocent he looked when caught off guard.

Her inquiring stare made him feel vulnerable - in his mind he grasped at something, anything, to turn the focus back onto the girl beside him - he wasn’t use to being the one flustered; something in her stare felt like it was boring into him, picking apart his brain and looking into his soul, it made chills raise on his arms and pink to grow on his porcelain cheeks.

On the other hand, she did this completely unintentionally; she was taking in as much of his eyes as she could possibly manage, caught up in her own need to know what lurked within those eyes of his, reading into him like a book she couldn’t get enough of.

It was only the two of them, in an empty room flooded by the waltzing sunlight of late afternoon - but if you looked closely enough, felt deeply enough - you could see the array of colors that spilled themselves all over the walls, floor and high ceiling, being covered in the clashing of the beginnings of something new, something beautiful.

It was the flooding of warmth on a cold winters day.

It overwhelmed the both of them.

“D-Did I?”

“Yeah. Uh,”

A beat of silence.

“I have to hurry to my shift, so.. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Ye-Yeah! I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck at work! Get home safe, Princess.”

The door closed gently after her leave, and Tamaki was left alone in her aftermath.

Firstly, he gave himself a pat on the back for picking himself up at the end of their small conversation - secondly, he couldn’t help but to feel like he just emerged from the under belly of the sea.

The piercing gravity of her gaze lingered with him the rest of the day.

- nobody -

“Hello! Did you find everything okay?”

“Yes, I did.”

“That’s good! Your total will be $27.93. Thank you, come again!”

That was, what seemed like, the millionth time she’d had that exact exchange. people came and went, some more troublesome than others - she had a lady in line, arms full of books, and a purse full of expired coupons, demanding every single one of them be applied - but other than those few bad apples, it was a pretty normal day at the bookstore. her coworker, Daiki, was out sick today so she offered to take his shift, which he was ever grateful for; that’s why she’s working so late tonight, having to close up shop and ride the 11 o'clock train, which she was dreading to do.

the cute barista who worked in the Starbucks at the far side of the store, a foreigner from Germany with a name she couldn’t even begin to pronounce, gave her a sympathetic smile as she clocked out and went home or the day. (Y/N) sighed, propping her head up on the counter.

Her manager chuckled, “Me too, kiddo.”

He was a man in his mid 50’s, with graying hair and the beginnings of crows feet forming around his eyes; he had a kind looking face, and it just lit up when talking about his favorite book and movies - all of which were in black and white. of course, she would know, having had an internship, then being hired when she was of legal age; she’s been here for what felt like her whole life.

The extroverted man has always been kind to her, passing the time by talking fondly of his daughter, who is now in college, and his husband, who’s come to visit work a few times, bringing his spouse his forgotten lunches or to bring staff his specialty homemade cookies - which everyone absolutely adored.

In all honesty, he was like a father to the girl. he would comfort her when she was caught crying in the breakroom - which has happened more than a few times - and he knew best of her home situation and life in general, offering advice and listening to her talk. she’d even given him a few drawings that she made for him, and he’d hung them up on his fridge at home. he made her feel safe, and loved - just like a father should.

“Long day at school?”

“Yeah,” she sighed out, “you know that club that I owe? the one I was telling you about? I had to go like 2 hours earlier to wash dishes and stuff. I swear I’ve been awake for too long.”

The older nodded, taking a sip out of his water bottle. “And at lunch I had to go get groceries. The whole list cost like, 3 paychecks worth of stuff. It was insane,”

He snorted at that. “so they gotcha on dish duty? And how long are ya gonna have to to this, again?”

“Um, this whole semester, I’m pretty sure. I don’t know how expensive those teacups were, but goddamn.”

“Language, missy.”

She rolled her eyes, genuine smile on her lips, “okay, dad.” He also cracked a smile.

“Why don’t you go ‘head and go home, alright? Like you said, you’ve been awake too long. Don’t want ya going crazy on me,”

Her eyes widened a bit, at the offer, but it was tempting. She felt her body disintegrating from the inside, and with all the coffee’s she had this shift, it’s not surprising. Her hands shook with a caffeine overdose, and every movement of her body felt like she was wading through water.

After that moment of contemplation, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you day after, okay, old man?”

“Sure thing, (Y/N). Get home safely, okay? You got that pepper spray I gave ya?”

She smiled at his concern, “don’t worry, I always keep it in my bag. I’ll make sure to text you when I get home.” he had gotten it for her one shift when she was talking about being followed one night on her way home, by a creepy man she didn’t know, and he had been worried sick for her - said he’d beat him up if he ever saw the bastard - she had only laughed fondly at his kindness.

“Okay. Have a goodnight, now.” he said, patting her shoulder.

She nodded, “You too.”

- nobody -

12:02 am

Quietly, she moved through the house, peeking her head in the mother’s room to see her resting peacefully. She then turned back to go the the bathroom just down the hallway, washing her face and changing into the freshly washed fuzzy pajamas she’s been excited to wear. Throwing herself into bed, it was an amazing feeling that washed over her - crawling under the blankets and wiggling her toes in efforts to warm up - she was sure that she’d be able to sleep well tonight.

2:17 am

And how wrong, she was. Hours of tossing and turning, her cat jumping on and off her bed constantly, flicking his tail in her face and howling just for the fun of it. She sighed heavily; every time her eyes closed, the image of Tamaki, bathed in the golden light of morning, sleepy plum eyes and lips pulled up in a grin, just wouldn’t go away. The colors of him wouldn’t leave her mind, no matter what else she tried to think about.

Her cat sat on the window sill, wading his sleek grey tail through the air, staring at her as she rubbed her eyes frustratedly.

4:10 am

Eraser shavings stuck to her sweater.

Pages and pages, the fronts and backs filled with attempts to get it right. Attempts to immortalize a moment that’s already dead - it’s faded memories windswept in her sketchbook.

She was embarrassed by her failures.

5:57 am

Already, it was time to leave - to make sandwiches for that stupid host club and those stupid boys and their stupid guests - well, she didn’t really feel that way - but rather, it was the lack of sleep that made her hate, well, most things. Already walking her way to school in clothes that she felt unsatisfied with wearing; the same pair of light washed jeans from days before, and a black sweatshirt she pulled over a cropped tank top, only because she was too lazy to take it off before hand.

She ate a hearty breakfast, consisting off a glass of almond milk - forgotten her lunch in the fridge at home, and only had 2 dollars, her sketch book and a squished fortune cookie in the bottom of her bag for the day. No pencils. No notebooks. Nothing.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling the cold hands of winter holding her own; as if trying to comfort her.

She let it.

- nobody -

After the meals were made, wrapped up nicely in overpriced decorative napkins and sat in the fridge, she was winded by the effort. With half an hours time remaining until she needed to get seated in a classroom, the tired girl chose to sit on a chair at a table nearby the large windows that overlooked the campus; a fountain surrounded by patches of yellow grass sat pretty in her view, the cloudy periwinkle sky draped itself in the background gracefully.

She kicked off her old vans and pulled her legs up in a criss-cross position on the chair, stretching her arms and torso out on the cold tabletop with a huff. Her cheek was squished on her upper arm, drowsy eyes losing their ability to focus; her eyelids closed heavily, as her breathing turned soft and rhythmic - she couldn’t help but to bask in the filtered sunlight that fought through the cracks of the blankets of tear filled clouds.

She slept.

- nobody -

“Awwww (N/N)-chan is so cute when she’s sleeping!”

“Shhh Honey-senpai! You’ll wake her up!”

“Yeah, who would’ve thought she could look so peaceful,”

“Isn’t Princess (Y/N) so adorable!? Quick, someone get a photo!”

What’s going on?..

The sleeping girl stirred, causing everyone to pause, holding their breath.

She let out a yawn, scrunching her nose, and peeked one of her (E/C) eyes open, to the sight of the entire host club staring straight at her.

Her eyebrows knitted, still in a fuzzy, dream-like state, not processing anything at all. She scrunched her nose again.

The click of a camera could be heard, along with familiar mischievous giggles - that turned into hard laughing at the face she pulled.

It was priceless.

She sat up quickly, lips parting and wide eyes - face red as rose, all the way to the tips of her ears.

Even Mori let out a short laugh at that.

“What.. What- what time is it? How long have I been asleep for?”

Kyoya, with that ever present smirk plastered on his face, checked his watch, “I believe it’s 4:41.”

“I.. I don’t..”

The girl groaned, letting her head fall on the back of her hands, brushing off the feeling of watchful eyes felt on her back for the time being.

A hand landed itself on her shoulder.

“C'mon, (Y/N). You obviously needed the rest, so don’t be too upset about it.”

The girl sighed, fallen head rising from her hands as she gazed at the auburn boy, who smiled sympathetically at her through long eyelashes - one of the twins, though she couldn’t be sure of which one it was; if she had to guess, just by his thin voice, maybe it was Kaoru?

She nodded, sitting up right in her chair, “yeah, I guess you’re right. Thank you.. Kaoru?” It was more of a question than a statement, but it was confirmed as soon as she saw his widened eyes and shocked smile - I got it right!

She smiled, then cringed at the tightness of her muscles from being hunched over the table for so long.

She missed how Hikaru gave her a skeptical glare from aside.

“You okay, (Y/N)?”

She only gave a silent nod to the worried twin, rolling her head, unfurling her legs and stretching deeply - her knees popping at the action - and stood up, now looking around the room with her mind alert. It was then that she noticed Hikaru’s stern gaze, a camera held loosely in his grip; they made eye contact, sharply and only for a second, for the both of them to snap their heads the other way - as if they were stubborn children.

“Just a bit stiff is all. Wait, weren’t you guys gonna have guests coming in today? What happened?”

“Tamaki decided to cancel, and, in his own words, 'let the princess sleep,’. ” Kyoya replied.

Said male lit up red, hand raising to cover his mouth as he avoided eye contact, “Kyoya, I thought we agreed to not mention that…”

The ravenette smirked, “I remember no such deal.”

(Y/N) blushed lightly, sparing a look or two at the reddened male, awkwardly shifting in her spot. “Well, uh, I should probably head home,”

She slowly made her way across the room, biting her lip in an anxious habit.

“I like your socks, (N/N)-chan!”

… What?

Looking down, the feeling of horror that enveloped her was unexplainable.

She had forgotten to put her shoes back on, and there on her feet, were her pink sailor moon socks, on display for all to see, bright against the white marble floor.

Quickly she jumped over towards the table, hastily shoving her shoes on her feet and running back towards the door all in the span of 10 seconds - the lighthearted, teasing laughter of the hosts was all too much for her right now.

“Uh, bye guys, see you!”

It seems, nearly every time she leaves that room, she’s running away.

Tamaki and Kaoru both smiled fondly at the girls clumsy nature - while her absence left nothing but wary skepticism in Hikaru’s mind.

Kyoya was left asking, to nobody in particular, “That girl, what are we to do with her?”

- nobody -

“Hikaru, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, just… That girl. She rubs me the wrong way.”

Kaoru quirked a brow at his brother, “Who, (Y/N)? Why?”

“I don’t know. Doesn’t she seem a bit..”

“A bit what?”

Hikaru huffed, averting his eyes towards the passing scenery outside the window of the limo they rode in - red velvet seats and mini T.V.’s hung on the back of the headrests in front of them. The yellowing grass and dead flower bushes passed by in flurries, clouds being left behind in the sky, the low hanging sun chasing after them.

“Slow, maybe? Dumb?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way she acts, constantly embarrassed or running away. Like she’s scared of us, or something.”

The younger of the two furrowed his brows, thinking for a moment.

“And that makes you think she’s dumb…?”

Hikaru huffed again, scratching the side of his head, “No. I mean yes. I mean, I don’t know. It’s been over a week since she’s known us, right? By now even Haruhi was comfortable with everyone. I just don’t understand why she still acts so weird around us.”

Ah. It clicked for Kaoru.

“You can’t compare everyone to Haruhi, You know. She’ll warm up to everyone soon, she just needs time,”

Haruhi was the first person he ever let have a look inside - the first person he let care for him other than Kaoru - so it’s natural that he compares everyone to her. She’s what he’s used to, he knows her, he’s comfortable with her; he knows nothing and nobody else.

Hikaru wants to befriend the shy girl, but he doesn’t know how to - just as she doesn’t know how to let herself be befriended.

Kaoru, then, makes it his mission to make her open up to them - because he knows, better than anyone else, how lonely it is to be trapped inside your own world.

- nobody -

The clouds of yesterday hung heavily in the atmosphere, blanketing the moon and her stars, as tears of the gods and goddesses alike puddled on the ground. Yellow street lights were dimly lit along the sidewalk, pieces of stray plastic caught in the downwards flow of the rain water stream, disappearing under the rusted drains that sat dirty on the side of the road.

In her hands, was a cup of hot chocolate - warming her cold fingers through the brick red mug - staring out into the black of night through the curtains tied up from her spot, sitting on the floor. Her cat nudged the back of her head from behind her shoulders, jumping from the bed she leaned against to her lap with grace. The feline’s green eyes peered into her own, then flopping down and curling himself up on her legs.

She remained still, eyes glassy and distant, as if looking, but not seeing . There were no thoughts, not a pathway for her mind to walk on; she floats, lost and alone, in the void of her consciousness; searching for something she doesn’t even know is there. It is in the blanks of her pages that she turns to, trying to read, and read again, the words that aren’t there - that never was in the first place.

She is hollow.

Beyond her skin, behind her ribcage and somewhere in the depths of her heart lies that of a canvas which hasn’t been touched - an expanse of colorless nothing, frozen in the ice of time that never seems to melt - monochrome in its emptiness. It froze her from the inside out, for inside she was nothing but a cowering child at the hands of a world whose people were as merciless as they were unforgiving, even when staring into the faces of the helpless.

One thing she knows for certain is, that hell isn’t made of lava, nor of the raging fires of satan himself; but of a desolate void, where the ice freezes even your words before they have a chance to leave your mouth. Hell is where the abandoned go to weep tears of frost, to let the arms of a grand nothingness envelope them in a cold embrace of loss.

It was only when she choked on a sob did she noticed there were tears running down her face.

Sitting her now cold drink on the floor, she wiped her face with her sleeves - biting her tongue until it felt as numb as she did.

Even though she felt alone, the clouds listened to her cries; they, too, floated along, inevitably though an unending sky, together they shared the same nothingness.

03

“ bone deep “

His flames were the hottest she’d ever felt.

Glowing and gold and beautiful, it incinerated everything it touched; it stole life and made it anew, clutching onto it’s fragile form and never letting go. She could feel it’s radiation, pulsing and alive against her skin as the fire swallowed her whole, scorching her bones through her skin and sapping away every bit of life that was left in her body. There was nothing like watching the sparks fly, glittering against the black sky of night, like stars as it flickered in the wind, never dying, never dying.

Her body was limp among the smoke, smoldering along with the wildflowers in her backyard. Her eyes were open, yet unseeing - all she could do was feel - and yet even to the edge of death, the image of that man followed her. He who hovered over her, that old, hauntingly familiar face scrunched in distaste at the corpse that lie below him, smothered by his own flames. She could only hope that his expression would fade from her view as he walked away, could only wish he’d leave her with only her thoughts to die with.

On her skin was a cold numbness that soothed her, her fingertips caressing the dirt as she grasped the ground in an effort to stay awake. Everything was a shimmering gold, metallic and effervescent as it danced along the length of her body; it never wavered, not even in the oncoming storm that hovered dangerously above, the promise of destruction coloring the clouds obsidian. It’s sparks never died - they only flew back into the fire from which they came - to be born again, thriving off the force of her own stolen life.

If you squinted, it was almost like fireflies that swarmed her body. Not really, but, one could always dream. There is nothing magical about burning to ashes; there is no beauty to be found amongst the remains of a life unlived; there isn’t anything here, really, except her steadily shallowing breath, and the emptiness of her chest as she tried to cry, to scream, to do anything but sit there and burn.

But she couldn’t even make herself close her eyes, for gods sake.

She could hear the chirping of the cicadas and the howl of the wolves over the cremation of her own body that distant summer night.

-

Looking in the dusty bathroom mirror, (Y/N) searched her own skin for the missing parts of herself, as if her soul had been tucked away within her bones.

She felt emptied out, gutted like a fish hung out to dry. Partly because of the dissociation, partly because of that hellish nightmare that crept into her quiet sleep. (Y/N) hadn’t had that particular nightmare in months, maybe even a year, and her brain chooses to thrust it on her when she least expects it. Just when she thought she’d gotten away, that monster of a man seems to follow her wherever she goes.

There is no escaping the past, is there?

At the base of (Y/N)’s skull is a headache in full bloom, flourishing off of the woman’s empty stomach and tense muscles, petals big and colorful as they pushed against the sockets of her eyes. She splashed her face with cold water, washing dried blood off her lips, silent as she watched the crimson swirl itself to pink as it disappeared down the drain.

From the looks of it, this whole building was once a nice little hotel, quaint and homey, the old rugs and what little furniture was left reeked of the early seventies. (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from wondering what happened to the place, for it to be abandoned, left for dead by even the government who could’ve knocked it down to make something a little more alive - but judging all the other buildings that seemed to line the streets, this place wasn’t the only one kicked to the curb. Despite this whole area looking like it’s been scraped off the bottom of a dumpster, there were still a few people who lived in the buildings. Probably people much like herself, who had nowhere else to go.

Shitty buildings in a shitty part of town. The woman’s surprised that they even have things like water and electricity, honestly. Who here even pays for that stuff? Well, these are a bunch of villains she’s thinking about, so they probably have a good number of fake identities and stolen money to live off of.

Though, she’s not any better than them, in that aspect.

She walked out of the bathroom, and back into her own room. Everything was painted in the colors of dusk, muted tones of gold and orange stretched themselves across the surface of the walls in a fleeting embrace of day’s last light as the sun set behind the sparse clouds. She got very few hours of rest, thanks to that rather unpleasant night terror, but even still she couldn’t even begin to feel the gravity of sleep weight itself down on her; instead, there was an unsettling tingle under her skin, burning and itching with the phantom touch of her own fears.

Plucking a pack of cigarettes from her bag, she began her way through the building and into the city streets. The doors creaked open, swinging loosely behind her as she took a stick from the pack and lit it. The cold air bit her cheeks and nose raw, tinged pink with winter’s kiss.

The melting snow donned twilights colors with fleeting hands as the sky slowly turned dark, the ink of night bleeding into the vibrancy of the sun. (Y/N) leaned on the side of the building, inhaling deep, feeling the bitter sting of nicotine prod her lungs and soothe her body, if only for a moment.

(Y/N) basked in the feeling of a drug induced calm, leaning her head back against the bricks, exhaling slow and steady. She glared at nothing in particular, too busy hating the aftertaste of smoke that stuck to her tongue to really think about anything.

More than anything, she was tired; so, so tired, mentally and physically, yet her body kept going, as if she’d die the moment she stopped moving. Everything seemed to come and go in blurs of black and gray, her brain never seemed to truly process things anymore, too high on anxiety and too deprived of sleep to see anything for how it truly is.

(Y/N) doesn't trust herself anymore. Not her eyes, her ears, her tongue, her heart. She is running only on the need to survive, and has been for awhile, now; a long, long while. Behind her dry eyes is years worth of suppressed emotions, tangled together and unfathomable, lying dormant in her being like a monster in waiting. Sometimes it’s all (Y/N) can do to open her eyes, to exist, because the energy it takes to keep the mess within her head at bay is all that she has, most days. Sometimes it’s all she can do to breathe, to twitch her fingers to make sure she’s still alive.

The woman doesn’t really know what’s wrong with her. She doesn’t know why she is the way she is, or how to change it, because this overwhelming, irritated anxiety is all that she’s ever known.

She’s never really been given the chance to feel anything other than this.

(Y/N) breathed in, and out, and in, and out. Despite the nicotine soothing her muscles, the acid that was ever present within her chest still reigned superior, curdling her lungs to nothing more than mush that lie in her ribcage, pathetic and useless as she prayed for air. She wanted to breathe again, more than anything. She wanted to feel the cold air slide down her scratchy throat, she wanted to do more than hyperventilate as she panicked over things she couldn’t control.

Half finished with the cigarette, she put it out on the back of her hand, hissing at the sting through clenched teeth. (Y/N) glanced around, trying to earn her bearings, trying to ground herself while she stood suspended in a past she barely remembered. She looked up subconsciously, looking for the embers of a golden fire never to be put out, but only saw the moon.

It was nestled between two clouds, just peeking over the tops of the buildings that stood tall in front of her. Round, and full, and steady it was, glowing soft and mellow and warm, a dim reflection of the sun and it’s brilliance. (Y/N) looked for stars, and saw none.

For a moment, (Y/N) wondered if the moon felt as lonely as she did.

-

After walking a few blocks around the area, taking in the meek scenery and teaching herself how to breathe again, (Y/N) ended up back down in the bar, finding an odd comfort in it's mountain honey glow. There was only one other person here, that being Spinner, a man with scales for skin whom the woman had come to know quite well within the last few days of her official membership of the League.

Well, he talked and talked and talked, while (Y/N) listened because she really didn't have anything better to do. Mostly he rambled about his apparent idol, Stain, answering questions she didn't even ask in the first place. He would repeat himself a lot, almost like he couldn’t hear himself speak. Spinner seemed a little out of his head, a little crazy, every time he talked to her, but (Y/N) said nothing about it. 

This is just the situation she happened to be in at the moment. Though, Spinner did jump over the counter to pour them both some tequila, which took away some of (Y/N)'s dismay. 

"Say, Spinner?"

The muscles under her skin tingled pleasantly, the alcohol humming a tune that lulled her senses to a bottomless sleep. Said man had offered plenty of times to answer any of her questions about Stain, which kind of made her feel like he was one of those pushy bible camp volunteers, but (Y/N) never had any interest in Stain quite honestly. The fact that he is very much a serial killer, and very much alive and out there, is enough to scare (Y/N) away from anything that has to do with him.

But tonight, with a bottle of tequila half empty in front of her, she found herself thinking about the oddest things; like how she felt like hugging someone, or how she could always see her nose but her eyes automatically tuned it out of her peripheral vision.

Or, for example, how (Y/N) suddenly felt the need to share her entire life story with someone she doesn't even know, just because he asked how she was when she first walked in.

Though, even in her drunken, flushed state, she wasn't going to do that - so she just settled on asking a few harmless questions that's been bouncing around in her skull for the past few days.

"Oh- yeah?" Spinner said, throwing a shot back before turning to look at the female that sat beside him, long magenta hair pushed back from his reptilian face.

(Y/N) hummed, crossing her arms on the counter top and resting her head there, peering up at him with a glassy expression.

"I know how much you idolize Stain and all that, but is there any other reason you do the things you do?" She slurred, tapping her forearm with the pads of her fingers rhythmically.

It was something (Y/N) has been wondering for as long as she's known who all these people are. She's only met a few, some of which were just petty thugs you'd run into in back alleyways, while others were similar to Spinner; those who seem to have some kind of purpose, some kind of drive that makes them do whatever it is they do as members of the League.

Or, people like Magne, a lady who, from as far as (Y/N) could tell, didn't give a damn about anybody else and lived just about as free as she could, being a wanted criminal and all that. Just from the few runs ins she's had with the woman, (Y/N) felt like it'd do her good to hurry and get on Magne's good side, but she was too scared to even begin to approach her - because in the end, she is here, just like everybody else.

And that meant she was a murderer, just like everybody else.

Of course, (Y/N) felt absolutely terrified every moment she spent around any of them, but she also didn't have much of a choice but to act friendly and be apart of what it is they've all established.

Fake it till you make it, right?

(Y/N) stared up at Spinner, awaiting his response as she held back the urge to sneeze.

His face twisted into something sinister, scales shifting as he grinned, showing off his sharpened teeth.

"I like to watch people seethe in pain, staring at me with those tearful eyes as I rip their life away from them. That's the only other reason."

She sneezed, startled into horrified laughter at his reply, which, thankfully, Spinner took as a shared understanding of his sadistic ways rather than absolute terror - he himself chuckling before refilling (Y/N)'s shot glass.

He didn't know that (Y/N) isn't a killer, like himself. He didn't know of how she's just a runaway that was backed into a corner and forced to join their gang because of her quirk.

Spinner only knows what he's been told by Shigaraki, which was that (Y/N) is a newly curated member of the League of Villains, and to be treated as such. Shigaraki nor Kurogiri mentioned how she is now being cultivated into the perfect weapon, how she is slowly being groomed and manipulated into a tool for them to use and use and use until she breaks.

That was their plans, anyway.

Not that they mentioned that to (Y/N) herself, either. To (Y/N), she is playing the part until she can find another place that'll feed her, home her.

(Y/N) wants shelter and food. Shigaraki wants a quirk that will take down the number one hero himself. And unfortunately enough for her, (Y/N) might just have exactly what Shigaraki wants.

"I think…" (Y/N) started, stretching her arms out and placing her forehead flat against the cool, dark marble of the counter top. "I think that me and you.. Are different, Spinner."

His cackling softened to a sigh, rolling his neck and popping his knuckles as he slapped the spot between (Y/N)'s shoulder blades so hard her torso jerked forwards on the table.

"I don't think so, (Y/N). You and I are both here, aren't we? That goes to show just how similar the both of us are."

Whether he was wrong or right, at one point, (Y/N) knew the answer; she really, truly did. But right now, up to her neck in alcohol and the high it brings with it, she didn't know anything at all.

-

Hours passed by in dreary blurs, and now (Y/N) was all alone, slouched over the bar staring at the empty bottle that sat in front of her. There was nothing going on in her mind right now, really; only the fact that her body feels hot and heavy, almost numb, as if she’d fall to a puddle on the floor the moment she as much as tried to stand - if she tried to do anything. The last time her muscles have moved from this spot was right when Spinner declared that he was going hero hunting, eyes alight with bloodlust and something (Y/N) couldn’t quite name as he barely held back a manic grin; though, (Y/N) barely heard what he was saying, because she flung herself to him in a half-hearted hug, patting his back before slinking back towards her stool. The man stood stiff as a statue through the whole ordeal, hand half-way to pulling his sword with a bewildered expression donning his face. He didn’t even reply to her slurred “be safe”, but that was probably because it was incomprehensible to anyone but herself.

Needless to say, the young woman was going to hate herself for that when she finally sobers up. That is, if she remembers the exchange at all.

(Y/N) just feels so alone - and, while usually she would enjoy the feeling of solitude, right now it feels more suffocating, more cynical. She is so sad, and so tired, and so unbearably lonely; she would give anything to be back in her girlfriends - or rather, ex girlfriends arms, cuddled up and close and content. In this moment, (Y/N) craves human touch more than anything in the world.

Normally, she’d avoid any and all physical contact like the plague; but at this point, she’s this close to just going outside and finding a raccoon to snuggle with.

From behind her, the door creaked open, then shut harshly.

“Huh. look what we have here.”

She heard him. Of course she heard him, though, (Y/N) didn’t have the willpower to greet him or respond, so she sat in silence. There was a shuffling noise, then the sound of boots hitting the wooden floor, tired and heavy. When he finally rounded the counter, not even sparing a glance towards her, his tall frame came into her cloudy view.

White dotted the black of his hoodie along with his hair, snowflakes lingering from the apparent flurry outside. His back was to her as he grabbed a can of something from a cabinet. (Y/N) stared, not really on purpose, but because he was the only thing worth staring at. She found herself drawn to his hands in particular, the marred purple of his scars peeking out from the sleeves edge; (Y/N) couldn’t help herself from wondering where scars like those come from, how they came to be.

Dabi finally turned to face her, sauntering back towards the counter from the other side, popping the can open and gulping for a second, then settling his empty gaze on the woman sprawled in front of him. It took her a moment to look up towards him, glassy eyes trailing up his form slowly. Her gaze ran over his chin, where just a smudge of red lipstick laid on his cupids bow. She must have lingered, because she was still looking at his lips when he spoke again.

“You look wasted.”

“Mhm.” She hummed, not hearing what he said in the slightest. (Y/N) tilted her head up to look at Dabi clearly. His features looked more relaxed than usual, his signature scowl softened out to a resting frown; the parts of his face that weren’t absolutely wrecked almost glowed, still pale and flushed from the cold wind outside.

His mouth quirked up just slightly as he cackled lowly, leaning against the counter on his forearms with an eyebrow raised. “You really are hammered, aren’t you?”

Because (Y/N) sat there, body flushed and eyes cloudy, looking so small and pitiful, Dabi couldn’t really bring himself to kick her while she’s down.

That’s not to say that he’s never done that to someone, though. His whole being is centered around rubbing salt in wounds. He just couldn’t be bothered. Not now, anyway.

Dabi did notice how the woman kept inching her hands closer to his own. He noticed how her eyes seemed to linger on his lips, and he noticed how her body trembled. He recognized the desperate need for another’s touch, no matter who it was that touched her; the need for the kind of warmth a blanket or alcohol or even your own hands could never provide.

“Don’t look at me like that, dollface. It’ll get you nowhere.”

(Y/N) smiled sheepishly, her cheeks pulling cutely while smushed against her bicep. “What you mean..?”

Dabi sighed heavily, shifting slightly to take another sip of his beer. He said nothing else for awhile, staring blankly at (Y/N) who stared at him with the fucking stars in her eyes. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole universe managed to fit in there. He had planned to grab his beer and promptly go back to his shitty little room in that shitty little hotel; he wanted to fuck around on his phone until his eyes couldn’t stay open, because gods know that Dabi is never able to go to sleep of his own volition. The last thing he wanted to do is have a staring contest with a woman he cared nothing about.

So, why is he still here?

He didn’t know, to be honest. He didn’t really care, anyways; Dabi does what Dabi wants, when Dabi wants. So if he, for some ungodly reason wants to stand here all night doing absolutely nothing, then he will.

“Can I touch you…?”

Admittedly, he wasn’t expecting that - which is why his eyes widened as he reeled for a moment - but his expression settled itself down into a small smirk.

“Fuck, I mean, sure. Go for it.”

He expected this to be an open invitation for a fuck, which he wasn’t past taking up, even in her drunken state. He expected her to crawl over the counter and to stand between her open knees, for her to claw at the front of his hoodie, maybe run her hands through his hair as she kissed him. Even if he had just come back from one of his own affairs, he wasn’t going to decline. 

Anything to keep his mind from digging up the graves of his past, of his failures. Tonight is a bad night for Dabi. He feels reckless and violent and ready to take the world in his hands and crush it - and maybe, maybe crushing the world wouldn’t be so bad, but right now, he is distracted.

And a distraction is all Dabi needs, at the moment. 

Even if that distraction comes in the form of a conversation without words, but with hands, with lips, with eyes.

He expected quite literally anything and everything but the woman to grab the both of his hands and tug the cuffs of his shirt up, to take her fingers and trace over the edges of his scars with the pads of her fingers. Gentle, feather-light touches brushed his skin, sending tingles up his spine. For a moment he gawked at her flushed expression, then followed her line of sight to where her hands met his own.

There were tiny scars that littered her skin, discolored flesh stretching over knuckles and dipping into the crevices of her palm. On the back of her hand was a picture that couldn’t be put together, an abstract story the color of skin left unfinished. Her hands were so, so cold against his own, the heat of his quirk never truly dormant within him - he is a fire forever lit in the form of a human body.

Electric blue burned through her skin, but (Y/N) was too distracted with the palm of Dabi’s hand to care. The feeling of his scars was rough and patchy and exactly like she thought they’d be - while his skin was smooth and a bit dry under her shaky touch; he didn’t seem to mind that too much, though.

And it was like that for awhile; just the two of them, bathed in a fake golden light, wrapped up in an oddly warm silence that only (Y/N) allowed herself to settle into. Dabi stood stiff as a statue, letting the drunken woman do as she pleased. He should've walked away by now, but he didn’t.

He should've pushed her off him, but he didn't.

(Y/N)'s slow motions stilled, her palm resting in his, fire clashing with ice, desire intertwining with hesitancy as she laced her fingers through his. Those dreary eyes of hers trailing up to his blank face, squeezing his hand lightly as she blinked slowly.

"Your hands are so pretty…"

Dabi barked out a laugh, sharp and sudden, genuinely finding amusement in this odd experience. The taller male leaned forwards to be eye level with the woman, stretching their interlocked hands out straight to the side of them, shoving the empty tequila bottle a ways down the counter. His face was maybe five inches from her own when he said, voice low and gravelly, "you're so fucking weird, you know that, (Y/N)?"

Said female grinned in response, big and goofy and saccharin. She fumbled a bit on the stool, bringing her legs underneath her so she could push herself closer to Dabi's face, eyes glossing over his cheekbones, then settling on his ear. It was only silence for a minute. (Y/N) looked and looked and looked at him, so transparent yet so unreadable to Dabi.

One minute, he thought he knew exactly what she was going to do, reading her like an open book, then the next she goes and does anything but what he expected.

People like that annoy Dabi to no end.

(Y/N)'s head tilts forward, eyelids as heavy as lead, dropping slowly and all at once. She finds the crook of Dabi's neck and rests there as if she were meant to. Her breath ghosted along his skin, lips pressing softly against the area below his ear. Her hand crept up the length of his arm, while using her other hand to squeeze at his own lightly once again. Finally, the tips of her fingers fondled the lobe of his ear tenderly, feeling the chunk missing from his flesh as if she'd done it her whole life.

Dabi shivered, unsure of how to react. He hasn't felt something so gentle, so light in a very, very long time. (Y/N) touched him as if he were glass, delicate and beautiful and everything he wasn't; everything he'd never be.

Dabi wanted to pull away. He wanted to shove her off of him and to shout at her for touching him like this, for making his legs feel wobbly, for stealing his breath away as if it was the only thing she's ever wanted to do - but, his body wouldn't listen to his mind, his bones looking for a home within this drunk woman's embrace, all too hopeless, all to hopeful for him to make any sense of.

She made Dabi feel fragile, and he hated it more than almost anything.

He couldn't make himself pull away. In fact, he leaned into it, holding back the low groan that threatened to bubble up his throat.

Her mouth was parted, breathing softly, shallowly as she said, "you've never said my name before."

Dabi gulped, feeling her tongue brush over her parted lips all too intensely. He felt her fingers run down his scarred neck, sneaking down just slightly under the neck of his hoodie to find rest on the dip of his collarbone.

"So warm… even in winter."

(Y/N) wasn't doing any of this on purpose. She was drunk, sad, and touch starved. Honestly anyone could've walked in here and she'd cling to them, probably even try with that bastard Shigaraki.

That's what Dabi told himself, anyway. He couldn't care less about who this chick decided to throw herself at. He just had bad timing, is all.

Yeah, definitely bad timing.

His fingers were absolutely not comfortable in her gentle grasp, and his other hand was absolutely not resting on her hip that was peeking over the bar’s edge. Dabi absolutely did not squeeze her hand in his.

He didn't want any part of what was happening.

But he stood still as (Y/N) pulled her head away from his neck, her face just a breath away from his own as her hand untucked itself from his hoodie, thumb wiping at his top lip with a smile so small and bashful Dabi would have mistaken it for a trick of the light.

The woman held up her thumb, showing off the waxy red lipstick that now stained it.

"I didn't think you'd be one to wear lipstick, Dabi."

And now, all was still. Everything stopped spinning, Dabi’s heart stopped beating, his lungs stopped breathing. This was the moment he realized; that for a second, or maybe even a minute, he forgot himself. Dabi had lost himself within the hands of a woman so cold. He had let her take him away from himself.

Here within the mountain honey light of this underground bar, this woman in front of him looked like snow. She looked raw and untouched and glowing.

And now, in this moment frozen in time, Dabi realized hadn’t felt so angry in a long, long time. Something deep in him wanted nothing more than to burn this woman up from the inside out.

He tried to respond, to say anything back to her, but his voice caught in his throat midway; so he settled on a cold glare, finally snapping out of the trance he was in.

The earth began to spin again.

Dabi tsked as he ripped his hand from (Y/N)’s, trading the odd comfort for the cool can of his once forgotten beer. He stood straight again, guard back up, even higher than it was before. He snarled at her flushed, dumbfounded expression, hands reaching out to him with grabby motions.

What is she, a toddler?

"I’m not here to babysit. You should probably go home now, if you don't wanna embarrass yourself in front of the boss," he paused, downing his beer and throwing it into the trash can, "cause I really doubt he'd be as forgiving as I am."

Dabi began making his way for the door, hands tucked deep into the front pocket of his hoodie. "Not that I care, anyways." He added as an afterthought.

"Wait-" (Y/N) whined, quickly plopping back down in her stool and twisting around to watch the males retreating back, "don't leave, Dabi…"

As annoying as she was right now, he turned on his heels, right at the doorway to shoot one last nasty look at her before he left.

Don't leave, Dabi…

How many times has he heard that, by passed hookups and people who thought they meant something to him? By his old friends, by his family?

How many times has he walked away, before he himself could be walked away from?

(Y/N) annoyed him more than anything else right now. Hell, he isn't too far away from saying fuck it and just burning her to ashes for making him feel so many things at once. She doesn't know him. She doesn't know what he's capable of.

"Go freeze to death, for all I care." Is the last thing he said to her before flinging open the door, climbing up some stairs to step out into the moonlit streets of Hosu.

The flurry from earlier had passed, clouds giving way to the moon and all her stars. Dabi didn't bother admiring the clear sky, instead he bit the inside of his cheek, fists clenching and teeth gritting as he walked the short distance to the hotel just a building over.

He meant what he said to her, he really did. That's probably why he doesn't linger on the thought of (Y/N), or how crestfallen her expression was; he didn't think about the brush of her lips on his neck and how he wanted to do nothing but beat her senseless for looking at him as if she knows him.

He didn't stare up at his ceiling, fuming over the fact that (Y/N)'s gentle touch against his scars reminded him so much of how his mother used to tend to his wounds, how she used to hug him and wrap him in bandages with eyes so soft, so soft; how his mother used to look at him before her love ran thin, before his father beat every bit of love from her body. 

Because he really, truly, didn't care about (Y/N) or anything she does with herself.

Dabi merely remembered things he wished he could forget.

-

When (Y/N) woke up, she felt like a dumpster fire personified. She groaned, swallowing down the scratchy feeling in her throat. She looked to the side, seeing Kurogiri hovering by her slouched form, hand placed gently on her shoulder as he shook her softly from her sleep.

She squinted for a moment, then registered the sound of a particularly amused Shigaraki a few places behind her. "Is she awake yet?" He asked, to which Kurogiri nodded.

The villain helped (Y/N) set up straight with steady hands, one perched on her shoulder while the other supported her back. "Are you alright, (Y/N)?"

And although his voice was it's regular whisky tones, it rang in her ears like sirens. She groaned again.

Shigaraki laughed bitterly, sat on a stool a few seats down from her own, face bare of the mask it typically adorned. His head rested on his fist, a taunting smirk pulling at his features. "You do know you're going to be trained tomorrow, right? And you're here, what, getting wasted?"

If she was in any other state of mind, (Y/N) would’ve taken notice to the fact that Shigaraki talked to her like a dog being scolded, but she didn’t; nor right now, anyway.

Kurogiri's hands dropped from their places on her skin, fetching her a glass of water.

"It's kind of pathetic, don't you think?"

In any other instance, (Y/N) probably would have just walked away and left, but right now, feeling like her heads about to split open and her stomachs about to crawl itself up her throat, she nods her head in shame. Because he's right - she is very much pathetic.

"Look! She even agrees with me!" Shigaraki cackles, genuinely finding amusement in her awful state. All the while, Kurogiri appears from the other side of the counter, telling her to drink the full cup of water and take the pills he set beside it.

The woman rolled the crick out of her neck, rubbing at her tender shoulders and sending a glare towards Shigaraki, who simply smirked back annoyingly. "Shut it, crusty."

If she wasn't in so much pain, (Y/N) probably - no, scratch that - definitely wouldn't have said that, but, oh well.

"What'd you say to me, bitch?"

Instead of replying, she settled for shooting him the bird while downing her water. Faintly, she could hear Kurogiri mumble something under his breath, but she didn't bother asking him to speak up.

"You'll start training your quirk tomorrow, (Y/N). Do you think you'll be able to show us what you can do with it?"

Because there were no windows, it was hard to tell what time it was, or how long she'd slept for. Hell, she doesn't even remember anything after her first four shots with Spinner; so it was hard to think about literally anything other than how much fucking pain she was in. But (Y/N) knew that this was going to come eventually, having agreed to whatever it is they forced her into. She only hopes she doesn't disappoint them enough for them to decide to kick her back to the curb.

So, keeping that in mind she nodded, voice fissured and thin no matter how many times she cleared her throat. "Yeah. But, who am I gonna be using it on, exact-" she coughed for a few seconds, "exactly? I can't really fight, like… at all. So don't throw me out into some place and expect me to know what to do or how to do it."

"Oh, no, I think you've misunderstood," Kurogiri started, taking her empty glass and cleaning it down. "You'll be using your quirk on members of the league, so we can get an evaluation on what exactly it is that your quirk does."

‘Oh hell no. These bitches gonna kill me.’

She was about to voice those thoughts, but she let him continue.

"While myself and Shigaraki will keep a watch on the members and yourself to observe effects and the drawbacks of your quirk. It will all be handled effectively and efficiently, I assure you."

Well, that makes more sense. She doesn't really want to do that, though; not really, because she's scared. So, so scared of what they'll think, how they'll react. (Y/N)'s scared of being rejected by them, and whatever that means - whether that be being kicked out, being beaten, being killed - she didn't know; because they're villains. There is literally nothing keeping them from harming her. But then again, from what they've been saying, that isn't really in their best interest, seeing as it's her quirk that they want so desperately on their side.

On the other hand, she's scared of being accepted. Does it mean she's a villain, officially? Does it mean that she's safe to live where they've provided for however long she needs, until she finds somewhere safer, somewhere better, as long as she does what they want her to?

(Y/N) didn't know. She didn't want to be discarded, but she didn't want to be welcomed.

"There is nothing to be concerned about, (Y/N). After we assess your quirk, you can begin training your physical body. Everything will come together in due time."

-

When (Y/N) sees the sky again, it is big and bright and clearer than she's seen in weeks, the suns pale winter glow glaring down at her as if she is nothing but a pile of snow to melt. (Y/N) is currently walking back to the little place she's staying, a bag of fast food snug in her left hand as she eats on some fries out of it with her right.

Well, she will go back to that hole in the wall, run down, shitty hotel sometime today. But right now, (Y/N)'s just walking around, enjoying the sounds of the city and the absence of snow fall. She could very well be thinking about how she's going to use her quirk tomorrow, or just who she's going to be using it on, or could even be out and buying herself some better shoes that would protect her feet from the cold better, but she isn't. (Y/N) just wants to eat her french fries and disassociate in peace, goddamnit, is that really too much to ask?

In conclusion, she's pushing all critical thoughts aside in favor of making friends with the crows on the roadside because, you know, why not?

(Y/N) stands on the sidewalk, throwing fries to the crows at her feet. Now that she's settled at a table under the patio of some random cafe, presumably closed, there's a whole flock of them hopping around her.

Her lips tug up, heart warming at the birds. Aside from looking the harbinger of death itself, they're kind of cute, in a way. Happily prancing around her ankles, stumbling over each other for the little bits of food (Y/N) can offer. It makes (Y/N), in a strange way, feel full.

Like maybe there is something she's good for, after all; even if it's only for feeding the birds most tend to avoid and overlook.

Suddenly, one of the smaller birds flew onto the table, hopping over to (Y/N), waiting for its turn. She gave it a fry, then another one, then another one.

'She must be hungry. Poor baby.'

(Y/N) gave it the last of her fries, opening her hands to signal that it was all gone. It didn't leave though - it stayed, just inches away from the edge of the table, watching. Waiting to receive something (Y/N) couldn't give.

It had a pink zip tie around its ankle, (Y/N) noticed. Must've got stuck while it was rummaging through the trash.

"There's no more. You can go home now, shoo. All gone."

It stayed, even as the others slowly scampered off into the city.

"Well, I'm leaving now, kay?"

It followed, even as she walked around corners and buildings and back again. It hopped around mounds of melting snow and over the dead rat that lied at the street drain, following (Y/N)'s footsteps like a lost puppy, all the way back to that shitty hotel she was staying at. The abandoned, dusty, nasty hotel.

'Love this for me.'

(Y/N) turned around at the doors, and there the crow was, with a tilted head and a gleam in its eyes. She sighed.

"I don't think you're allowed to come in."

And the little shit just stood there, looking - as if it saw something she couldn't. It irked her.

"Well, either you go or I accidentally hold the door open for you and you accidentally get in. So, what is it, little bird?"

The woman stretched her arm out behind her, pushing open the swinging door that let out a loud groan in protest - and, finally, the crow stepped away, turned around and took flight, disappearing into the cityscape with only a full belly and pink zip tie to its name.

(Y/N) entered the hotel with a shrug of her shoulders.

-

Settled on a powerline just a few streets away, the crow was suspended above the streets. Trash tumbled along the pavement, a few plastic bags floating in the wind, a car speeding down the roads every now and then. For the most part, it was lifeless.

As for the crow, it was watching. Waiting to see it again.

01

“ goodnight, sun “

The night was crisp and caliginous, dark navy blues tattered and faded at the edge of the sky, bleeding into a black that swallowed even the glow of the stars. She exhaled deep and heavy, watching wisps sheer grey of smoke float into the atmosphere, twirling into an oblivion, dying in the wind as it curled towards the moon.

Winter is unforgiving, she thought to herself, feeling its chill find home in her bones, constricting her lungs as the falling snow kissed all over her body. The lightweight, open front sweater did little to shield her from the overbearing cold, snow melting into the tightly knitted fabric, leaving behind damp spots of icy water to freeze over her numb skin. The tank top under the garment did little to nothing to isolate what little body heat she had left.

Her hands shook as she took one last drag of the cigarette, then finally, after 15 minutes outside in the winter ridden city of hosu, she put it out on the back of her hand and stuffed the bud in the back pocket of her jeans; she may be a lot of things, but a litterbug isn’t one of them. She rounded the corner of the 24 hour diner, out of the cramped alleyway and walked into said building. The bell dinged as she shuffled into the warm building, tapping the tip of her snow covered vans on the doormat before plopping down into the booth at the far corner of the establishment.

Seeing as it was nearing four in the morning, there wasn’t any other people there, which the girl was thankful for. She didn’t think that she could handle having to hear the obnoxious slurring and shouting of the local drunkards tonight; they usually found their way to this specific place around this time, probably too out of it to find their own homes, or maybe they were kicked out by their families, who she figured were far by tired of their alcoholic husbands and fathers. She knows good and well how frustrating those people could be.

She turned to the left, looking out the large windows to observe the city. Not many places were still open, as most all the lights were off and there were barely any cars parked on the side of the road. Everything looked still, covered in a striking white that blinded; only the streetlamps offered fleeting light, flickering warm yellow, a mockery of the sun as the light reflected off the ice crystals and straight into her tired eyes.

She groaned quietly to herself, tearing her pupils away from the fogged glass and stared, empty and exhausted, at the table in front of her. She wasn’t sure how much time passed until a coffee was sat on the clean surface, straight under her nose, a few packets of sugar and cream tossed right beside it. Her lips twitched into somewhat of a small smile, but it was more of a grimace than anything else. She shifted her gaze towards the familiar waitress standing at the end of the table, hands on her hips, expression bored, the flicker of worry in the older woman’s eyes was as clear as day.

“I’ll be right back with your food, honey. Any special requests today, or just the usual?”

The girl took a deep breath through her nose, before letting her expression relax into a tired stare. “The usual is fine, thank you.” She mumbled, voice soft and raspy, worn down into something she wished she didn’t recognize. The waitress nodded her head wordlessly, sauntering back behind the counter to where she’d make her food.

All the while, she made quick work of the sugar on the table, tearing all five packets open at once and pouring them in the dark, steaming beverage. She pushed the cream aside with a lazy swipe of her hand, stirring her drink then taking a few gulps.

‘Fuck, that’s hot!’

She bit her lip as she placed the coffee back down infront of her, curling her fingers around the mug; at first her cold fingers stung, throbbing at the sudden heat, before the pain unraveled to a warmth she felt herself melt into. The girl tilted her head down, a dull ache shooting through the curve of her shoulders as she slouched, but she ignored it, blowing softly into her coffee to cool it. The ripples in the inky liquid was hypnotic, relaxing in a way she didn’t expect. Maybe she could nod off, just for a little bit… just until her food was ready…

Her arms straighten a bit, sliding the mug across the table but not letting it go - the warmth was too good to let go of - so she clutched the white ceramic lightly, ever so slowly leaning her head down towards the table, thinking of how nice a short nap would be; besides, now that her headache had dulled somewhat, she might be lucky enough to finally get some shut eye. Maybe she wouldn’t have any nightmares, either. Maybe she would finally sleep deep enough to withstand her own headspace.

Just as her forehead grazed the cold surface of the table, the bell on the door dinged, loud and shrill and piercing in her ears. She jerked up at the soul shattering noise, headache crashing back onto her brain like waves on the shore; it felt like her skull cracked under the pressure of her own consciousness. Hot coffee spilled over the rim and down her fingers, now tingling in the worst way possible, burning through her skin, down to the very bone.

Okay, maybe she was being a bit dramatic, but still. That shit hurted.

She decided to glare towards the perpetrator, and there he was, right at the opening of the door as it closed behind him, the bell slowing until the ringing finally stopped. The only noise left in the diner was the sound of the waitress shuffling around in the exposed kitchen, and the quiet curses the woman let fly as she mopped up the spilled coffee with napkins. She shot him glares in between drawn out seconds, and she saw the bastard smirk when he caught her in the harmless act.

The diner was empty. Absolutely, completely, utterly empty; barren of any other life whatsoever, every table wiped clean and ready for the taking. This man could’ve chose to sit anywhere, and yet, he walks towards her.

She is glaring down at the pile of sopping wet napkins in front of her when she hears his heavy footfalls on the tiled floor, but she kept her gaze locked on the table for her life, as if she would die the second they made eye contact. But he wasn’t walking away, towards the opposite end of the diner like any sane person would’ve done, as the woman obviously didn’t want company; no, he was walking directly towards her table. She could feel his gaze on the crown of her head as he only got closer, closer, closer, until she heard the distinct plop of himself on the cushion on the set of booths directly in front of her own.

‘Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look-’

‘...’

‘Damn it.’

Well, she looked up, that much can be said. Her fists clenched themselves of their own volition, knuckles white with the pressure of his stare. The man went as far as sitting in the seat with its back towards the door, so he was face to face with the woman. He just sat there, arms propped up on the table, eyebrows pulled up just the slightest bit, nose scrunched and lips pulled in the most smug look she’s ever seen in her life.

His hair is spiked and unruly, pin straight and as dark as the night that lingers outside; his skin is pale, almost sickly, almost translucent; there’s scarring under his eyes and around his jaw, taking up almost the entire bottom half of his face, kind of like he stuck his head in a fire and let it burn for awhile. There’s holes all across where skin meets scar, where she thought piercings would be - but it’s far too cold to wear metal on your face in this weather, it’d give you frostbite the moment you stepped outside.

But, what really caught her attention was his eyes, blue like she’s never really seen before; electric and dark and alive, it was like his gaze was seering her skin - leaving her open and raw and terrified. A shiver ran up her spine, violent and visible, and that only widened his grin.

Before either of the two had a chance to say anything, a heaping plate of steaming food was placed gently before her. “I made you some extra. You better eat this up, honey. You’re gettin’ too bony for a girl your age, right? I’ll come back to refill'n ya coffee’n a minute.”

As she walked away, the girl looked down at the plate. It had everything; eggs, bacon, sausage, grits, hash browns, toast, a croissant. And on another plate, a chocolate chip pancake with a melting chunk of butter on top sat, pretty and delicious and waiting to be eaten.

It’s really too bad that she didn’t have an appetite anymore; her stomach already felt uncomfortably full, heavy with anxious nerves and a growing nausea. She finally unclenched her fists, her palms an angry red, imprinted with crescent moons, thanks to her fingernails. She took a breath, tapping the pads of her fingers on the table beside the plates, then picking up the still dripping mug and taking a sip. It was now lukewarm at best.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Aren’t you gonna eat all that?”

The woman’s head snapped up at the lazy drawl of his voice, deep and feathery all the same. She said nothing.

“How was that coffee? Or did you spill it all before you had the chance to drink it?”

Taunting.

He was taunting her.

She locked eyes with the male, the need to hide away from his burning gaze overruled by the want to feed him a taste of his own bitter medicine. She raised the almost empty ceramic to her mouth, licking her lips slowly, before sipping as loudly and obnoxiously as she possibly could, all while staring him down with the coldest, lackluster expression she could muster.

As much as she wanted to walk out that door and never be seen again, as much as her skin burned with an embarrassment she couldn’t quite keep down, she felt particularly shitty today, so she wasn’t nice enough to let him have the pleasure of scaring her off. Still sipping, she crossed her legs, rested her elbow on the table, and squinted.

It was a long thirty seconds later that she sat the mug down, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand, holding back the glower she could feel trying to pull at her face. She was convinced that if she kept eye contact any longer, she might turn to ash, but she held out. She was too spiteful, in all honesty.

The bastard raised his hand and snorted, rolling his eyes before they found their way back to her own, the words try me, bitch unsaid, but he might as well have shouted them by how clear the message was.

Suddenly, she slammed her hands flat on the tables surface, standing up, throwing him the bird and walking away; out of the safe warmth of the indoors, and into the trembling hands of winter’s night. No, she didn’t pay. She only hoped the waitress understood.

“What the fuck was that about?”

She mumbled angrily to herself as she checked her phone, eyebrows furrowed. The bright numbers lit up as 5:09 A.M., along with a string of texts from her older sister. The girl sighed, cold and alone, leaning on the outside of a shitty diner in a snowstorm at ungodly hours. She would’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt to do so.

It’s been about a month since she left home. A month of going from shelter to shelter, a month of sleeping on park benches and cement, a month of stealing so she wouldn’t starve to death; though, she wouldn’t really mind dying that much either, but she didn’t want to think about that right now. She’s cities away from the house she grew up in, and now, in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers who couldn’t give less of a shit about her, she could almost breathe.

No more abuse. No more expectations. No more hiding. Even if she is barely surviving, it’s the best she’s been in all her life. She’d much rather sleep in the streets than under that roof, in that house, in the same place as those people.

That’s why, looking at the notifications of her sisters texts, she scoffed. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear anything from anyone who sided with that devil of a man. She’ll die before she willingly goes back to that house.

The woman was so absorbed in her thoughts, she barely heard the annoying ring of the bell as the door creaked open, barely heard the crunching of snow as he neared her.

The male burped. “thanks for the meal.”

She visibly jumped, almost dropping her phone, then stuffing it away in her pocket to look at the man who so rudely made her spill her drink just a few minutes ago. She sighed again, not having the energy to put up any kind of act now. She killed herself over with the thoughts that blew threw her mind, haunting her like some kind of ghost.

She looked up at him, shaking her head as a reply. “Do you need something, or..?”

The ravenette took his hands out of his pockets, crossing them over his chest. He observed the drooping of her eyelids, taking a moment to translate the woman’s mumble, then shrugged. “No, not really.”

But, in actuality, that was a big, fat, juicy lie; she knew that much. Her eyes narrowed; everybody wants something, and he is no exception.

She really, really, really didn’t have the means to entertain whoever the hell this guy was. She let everything go and glowered, not specifically at the man standing before her, but to the world in general.

“Lets skip whatever kind of small talk you’re trying to have with me, and just tell me what the fuck it is that you want.”

There was a silence that hung in the air, thick and palpable in her hands. She turned her side to him, taking a pack out of her pocket, and plucked a cigarette between her lips, lighting it. She took a drag.

Then, two.

Then, three.

She peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

He was wearing a tattered black jacket, a large white v-necked shirt underneath, and black jeans that tucked into a pair chunky boots - much more prepared for the cold weather than she could ever hope to be. He was tall - taller than her, at least, and kind of skinny. Now that he wasn’t wearing that annoying smirk, his resting face was… uncanny, to say the least. The corner of his lips turned down naturally, almost pouting, but not quite. His eyes looked as bored as they could be, the flickering blue that his iris was now dull and far away. It’s almost like he left for a moment, to a place far, far away from here. She shivered again, from the cold, maybe, or maybe not. There was a shell of a man standing beside her, who seemed to die mid conversation. The woman had a feeling she should be worried, but she wasn’t. Not really, because she does the same thing sometimes; it’s odd, is all, to see it from an outsiders point of view.

She turned back around to face him, keeping quiet, for whatever reason. No reaction from him. She raised her shaking hand carefully, hesitantly. Even when those eyes weren’t on her, she could feel how they scorched - could feel as they tore apart everything they saw, processing and scrutinizing and dark with some kind of intangible fog. In her other hand, sitting snugly between her fingers, the cigarette slowly burned itself to nothing.

Her hand made contact with his cheek, where skin and scars met, flesh so cold it almost stung - she tapped him a few times, then rested lightly on his cheekbone. Under her palm, she could feel the blistered skin shift as his mouth quirked upwards curiously, electric eyes glancing down at her with the same sheen of arrogant amusement as before.

He took his time finding his words, letting the ambiance of their surroundings fill the silence. The woman looked dazed for a moment, caught up in the thorns of her thoughts, snapping out of it when she felt the cigarette being taken from her other hand, his skin contorting under her hand as he pursed his lips around the stick - taking a drag and blowing the smoke in her face. She yanked her hand away, stumbling back a few steps, catching herself before she fell onto the snow-covered pavement.

“Didn’t take you as one to be so forward, short stuff. Guess looks can deceive, huh?” his voice lilted, tilting his head as he breathed in the chemicals.

She turned around, dragging her feet through the snow and hugging her arms around herself. Why did she do that? God, why did she do that? He probably did that on purpose, looking so dead and cold underneath the artificial lights of the diner, just to get a reaction out of her. She doesn’t even know this guy, she doesn’t know who he is or what he’s like or what he’s been up to. For all she knew, he could be a murderer, and she could be his next victim. He could be the most horrible, awful person on the planet, and she just touched him as if she knew the man her whole life. Who does that?

Shaking her head, she huffed, watching her breath come out into a white puff in the chilly air. She couldn’t think about this right now. Currently, she had to return to the shelter she was staying at, get her stuff, and promptly exit the vicinity, lest she get kicked out for stealing. She had to get busy finding a place to stay, because she really didn’t want to sleep outside in weather like this.

This is the consequence of her own rash decisions, she knew; though that didn’t stop her from complaining to herself every chance she got. Self pity truly is an ugly thing, isn’t it?

The male watched her as she walked away, flickering underneath the blinking streetlight and fading into the darkness that comes with night. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, licking his lips to taste the mango chapstick that she apparently wore.

He put it out, tossing it to the ground and stuffing his hands into his pockets, quietly tailing the female as she walked. His eyes never left her frame, slanted and calculating her movements so well, even in the dark.

‘So this is who he wants to get his hands on.’

-

The woman grunted as she shifted the backpack up on her spine, straps digging into her shoulders and weighing her down.

It was a nice quality leather bag, roomy inside with multiple hidden pockets; the leather itself was soft and worn, a nice creamy brown color that faded white in some places from wear. It looked like something straight out of a movie, vintage and perfect - far too beautiful to belong to that shitty old man of hers. This was his favorite bag, he always took it with him when he’d be gone for days at a time. It still smelled of dusty cedar and the shitty four-in-one shower gel he’d get. He’d miss it more than he’d miss his own goddamned daughter, probably.

She couldn’t help but grin bitterly at the thought.

The sun had risen hours ago, and the snowstorm quieted into soft flurries that rained down every now and then. Her shoes were long by soaked through, and her toes were numb and most likely purple from how cold they were. There’s nothing worse than walking in the flattest shoes ever made, with cold, wet socks to match. And yet, despite the burning freeze that ate her up slowly from the outside in, she kept going.

Trudging along on the sidewalk, keeping her head down, eyes so squinted they were almost shut, she tried to dodge the few people that were dumb enough to walk to wherever they were going instead of taking a train. Mostly, there were people in suits with knee high boots with thick, fuzzy winter coats thrown over their shoulders - trudging through the snow looking like some kind of business Sasquatch.

She did manage to take some money with her from that house, but not nearly as much as she needs to get a small apartment, or a place she can stay for awhile to get her bearings. As much as she would love to get a job,  it was out of the question right now - solely because they would recognize her as a missing person and report to the police. She’s tried to get by stealing things like protein bars, chips, water bottles, and toiletries from convenience stores, pick pocketing spare change form passerbys, using her quirk to her advantage, but obviously she’d have to buy a meal or two from fast food places for some solid food. The woman kicked herself for just walking out of that diner last night, leaving all that mouth watering food behind, but at the time she just couldn’t stomach it; not with that random bastard watching her like she was some kind of toy, like she was a means of entertainment.

She sat heavily on a park bench, throwing her backpack in her lap and digging out her wallet. She counted all her money under her breath, and stuffed it back securely into a hidden pocket inside the bag. Right now, she could just barely afford to rent an apartment for a month. But that’s not really enough, is it?

Leaning her head over the back of the bench, she exhaled, closing her eyes, feeling the snowflakes turn to water on her frostbitten skin as it began to fall again. Even in the cold weather, she felt her face and neck burning, chest heavy and muddled. She could feel her brain melt and drip out of her ears, salty and disgusting in the back of her throat as it ran to her head. She stretched her legs, hugged her bag to her chest tightly and parted her lips in a last ditch effort to breathe.

There wasn’t anything in her mind, really. She knew very few things for sure. She could probably count the facts on her fingers.

One, is that her legs are numb, all the way up to her knee.

Two, is that she’s starving. Her stomach growls and rumbles, begging for food she doesn’t have.

Three, is that she’s too exhausted to keep walking; too exhausted to find shelter, or warmth. Too exhausted to find the need to survive within herself.

Four, is that she knows she’s being watched. She feels eyes on her, staring, the person's intent unknown, and she is probably the most scared she’s ever been in her entire life.

She stays still, eyes closed, breath shallow, body going limp.

Five, is that she’s probably going to die out here, cold, alone, and hungry.

She curls up under her fear, tucking herself into blankets of too many emotions to comprehend. Everything settles, eerie and hopeless, as her arms fall to her sides, palms facing towards the clouds, catching snow in her bare hands.

Her consciousness is the last thing she loses as the world goes dark.

-

She woke with a start, jerking up with a cough that rattled her ribcage. She gagged for a good few seconds, spitting a nasty mixture of green and yellow onto the ground by her feet with a grimace.

She rubbed her hands over her face, effectively smearing snow down her forehead to her nose. It seemed it had piled up on her hands in her sleep, not that much, but enough to leave her fingertips a worrisome shade of blue. She wiped her hands on her jeans, patting her backpack; she thanked every deity above and below for the fact it wasn’t stolen.

After a split second to regretting her entire existence, she popped her neck, then looked around where she was seated. It was a quaint park, with a small swing set, monkey bars and a slide. A few dead trees were sparse around the place, snow piled up on decaying branches.

There wasn’t anyone here, who she could see, or feel. It was only her, the clouds shifting in the sky, and her growing concern for her poor, frozen feet. She wiggled her burning toes, and decided to find a sink she could thaw them in.

Standing up, she wobbled, then threw her backpack on her shoulders and pulled her hood as for over her head as she could manage. She walked as fast as she could to the nearest gas station, which was less than half a mile, thankfully. In a busy city like Hosu, there was a little store or restaurant nearly every corner you turned. Apartments lined certain streets, some high dollar, fancy buildings overflowing with security; while others stood run down, falling apart, graffitied with crude words and illustrations in the bad parts of town. She, currently, was located in the latter, which was fitting for a person like herself; a petty thief, a runaway.

She was getting awfully cynical, these days.

It was mid afternoon, nearing 2 pm, when she entered a small gas station. She nodded her head as a greeting towards the cashier, a young man with a buzzcut, tan skin and freckles. “Welcome!”

Ignoring him, she immediately stumbled into the small bathroom. At the back of the store. Thankfully, it was a one person bathroom, with a single toilet and sink. The woman was almost scared to take her shoes off, to see the mess that her feet had become, but it had to be done. Kicking off her black vans, she peeled off her socks, barely containing the shriek that ripped through her throat.

Her feet were ugly shades of purple and blue and grey, and she fell back on the floor with a loud thud. The blisters on her heels seethed with pain.

There was a knock on the unlocked door.

“Ma’am, is everything okay in there?”

It took everything within her to not scream no, everything is not okay and i’m fucking dying, because she didn’t want to freak the guy out, but now that she’s seen the state she’s in, she couldn’t hold back the tears. She tried to reply, but in place of words came a loud, ugly sob.

“Hey… Hey, uhm, do I need to call the police? Are you okay?”

She hiccuped, “no! No! It’s,” another sob, “it’s fine! Everything is fine! I’m okay!”

That was more directed towards herself, really, in a desperate attempt to calm down her buzzing nerves. Her mind went to the worst places, thinking of how she wouldn’t be able to walk anymore, how she’d die on the side of the road, how she’d be buried under the snow for forever; how as much as she thought about wanting to die, this isn’t how she wanted it to happen.

Next thing she knew, the male had opened the door, only to let out a shriek for himself. “Oh, oh my god. Wait. Wait,” he stammered, green eyes wide with panic as he stumbled back on his feet.

She took a shaky breath, holding back her sobs, “I'm, I'm sorry! Please don’t call the police! It’ll be fine!” waving her hands around, desperate to calm the poor cashier.

Said male inhaled, hand giving his chest a solid slap, then another, then exhaled. His arms dropped to his sides as his wide eyes looked towards the soaked shoes and socks, frowning in what seemed to be determination. He was mumbling something to himself, then dashed out of the bathroom, door left wide open, swinging back and bouncing slightly on the wall. The woman on the floor began to sob again, scared out of her mind, already expecting to hear sirens, to be dragged to the hospital, to be forced back into that hell of a home.

She didn’t want to go back. She couldn’t go back. Not when she made it so far on her own.

The male hurried back, arms full of gauze and antiseptic and bandaids, dropping to his knees beside her.

“What… are you doing?” it came out as barely a whisper, her voice was strained and shaking almost as much as her body was.

He dropped everything on the floor, before twisting open the bottle of antiseptic, and ripping open the bag of cotton balls. He then paused to look down at her, the golden flecks in his eyes shimmered with nervous tears as his eyebrows scrunched with the effort not to cry. “Helping you.”

It was a simple enough reply; nothing to read into, nothing left unspoken. No hidden meaning for her to obsess over. It was silent, save for the girls sniffles and occasionally cough - she couldn’t bear to look at her feet, so she stared at the man who carefully approached her, sending a questioning glance her way before he touched her, to which she nodded.

What was strange, though, is that he didn’t try to warm her up at all. He didn’t submerge her feet in warm water or try to clean them up with the supplies he just opened, but instead, he put both his hands on one foot, his touch light and warm. There was a faint, warm glow that came from his hands, and it stung like nothing else she’s felt before.

It hurt a lot, kind of like she just submerged herself in a pool of lava, but slowly, the feeling was coming back to her. She could feel her blood rushing back to her toes, the painful scorch fading to a pleasant warmth. Before long, he moved to the other foot, which was the same process all over again. She’s not sure how long it took, but the male had beads of sweat running down his forehead, and panted just enough for her to hear.

When he finally sat back on his legs, his hands were an angry red and his skin was cracking, blood dripping down his large palm, rolling onto the cuffs of his sleeves and dripping onto the floor. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath. Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from him, and back towards her feet.

She gasped, loud and dramatic, before choking on her own spit.

Her feet, once colored with frost and the numbness it brings, is now only slightly red and puffy. There are still blisters on her heels, but they had shrunk down considerably. She wiggles her toes, and as much as her feet were sore and aching, she could feel them; move them.

By the time she turned back to look at the male beside her, he was grinning sheepishly down at her, scratching his face with his finger - smearing a thick crimson on his cheekbone. She didn’t even have to ask the question to get his answer.

“Good thing i'm a healer type, huh?”

She wanted to jump forward and hug him till he couldn’t breathe, but that would probably be a bit weird since he was basically a stranger, so she settled on a small, fleeting smile as her eyes wandered to his hands. A moment passed, with them both slouched and tired and scared. She reached forward, gently taking both of his wrists in each hand and flipping his palms to face upwards.

He jumped at the touch of her cold fingers, but let her examine his hands nonetheless. It wasn’t a pretty sight, to say the least; his skin had dried out, cracking at each of the bends at his palm and knuckles, leaking red and throbbing.

Wordlessly, she grabbed the bottle of antiseptic, and soaked a cotton ball with the liquid. She dabbed at the cuts gently, wiping away the blood and cleaning up his hands. She went through nearly 10 cotton balls, now accumulated in a bloody pile on the floor, but she paid no mind, occupied with wrapping him up in gauze.

It was weird, this whole situation; she expected to be dragged away by the cops, her feet being amputated and having to be trapped in that godforsaken house for the rest of her life. But instead, she’s bonding with a kind stranger on a gas stations bloody bathroom floor.

She hummed, satisfied with her work. Life really is strange sometimes.

Finally, she released his hands, looking up at the male, who wore a bright smile on his face. In that moment, it felt like July in the middle of winter. She almost let herself unravel in his warmth, but not quite.

He stood up, offering her a hand. “How are you feeling? Do you need help walking?” Even though he was the one injured, he worried for her.

‘How stupid.’

“Uh, i’m okay now… Thank you. How are your hands?” she forwent taking his hand, not wanting to hurt it more than it already was. She collected her socks and shoes, wobbling on her feet as they both walked out of the bathroom. There weren't any customers, thankfully, as it was still work hours and people had yet to be free of their offices and schools.

He made his way towards the front corner of the store, where the male unlocked a door and motioned her inside. After she entered, the door clicked softly as it closed behind the both of them - it looked like a break room, with a table and a few chairs, a sofa, and a vending machine. “Oh, they’re okay, don’t worry! That’s just the side effect of my quirk. Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”

As much as she wanted to decline, she really wasn’t in the position to, and the male could probably see as much. She hated pity - it made her feel weak and helpless, small under the worried look he sent her. She knew he meant no harm, but that’s just how she was; quick to decline any and all offers in favor of doing everything herself, preferring to suffer on her own than to accept assistance from people who only want to help.

Her internal struggle must have shown on her face, because he smiled reassuringly. “I’m the only one on shift for the rest of the day, so you don’t have to worry about being in the way of anyone.”

She huffed, finally shedding her backpack and dropping her shoes to the floor, sitting down on the red, fluffy couch. She sunk into it, a wave of exhaustion rolling over her being.

‘Maybe staying for a bit wouldn’t be too bad.’

The male in the room held back a giggle at her reaction, sighing softly. “Oh, i’m Daiki, by the way. You can rest up in here for a bit. I’ll come and check on you later, okay?” she merely nodded in response, not fully relaxing until she heard the clicking of the door opening and closing.

She felt all her muscles go lax as she kicked her legs up on the couch, laying down fully for the first time in a while. It was soft, and warm, and so, so comfortable. And before she knew it, she was asleep, numb to the world and its cruelty, even if just for an hour or two.

-

There were things on the table.

She‘s been glaring at them ever since she woke up, which was probably a good 20 minutes ago; treating them as if they’d burn her if she touched them. It’s just mundane things, with a folded up note beside them, along with a glass of water and what looked like a couple of pain relievers. A six pack of white ankle socks, a pack of those travel toothbrushes with toothpaste already built in, and a pile of heating packs sat so innocently in front of her, and while she was thankful, she was also absolutely disgusted.

She didn’t need charity.

Taking the note carefully in her hands, she unfolded it, reading the neat handwriting scribbled in blue ink.

good morning!

i left some ibuprofen here for you, because while my quirk heals, it doesn’t take away that much pain, so i thought you’d like these. i also sat your shoes and socks over by the heater so they’d dry faster. come out whenever you wake up, or i’ll come get you when i have to clock out.

-daiki

There was a small drawing of flowers on the edge of the paper. Her lip twitched as she crumpled the note, throwing it back onto the table carelessly, then looking around the room. Through the window at the side of the room, from what she could see from the opening of the alleyway that the glass faced, it was dark, and thankfully, not snowing. At the other side of the room, a small space heater sat, turning back and forth as it blew. Right there, a few steps in front of it were her vans and socks, sat neat and flat on the ground to dry.

The woman popped the pills in her mouth and gulped the water till it was gone. Shuffling over to the door that led back into the store, she peeked out the small rectangular window. From where the room was positioned, she had a good view of the entire store. There was one person at the very back of the store, browsing the chilled drinks; then, it appeared that Daiki was currently ringing a couple of school children out.

Quickly, and as quietly as she could, she went and put her socks and shoes on, both now nearly completely dry. She then tugged her backpack on, checking for her wallet which was still there, thank gods. She looked out the window one more time; it was just big enough for her to crawl through. She went ahead and opened it as wide as it could go, feeling the chilly air bleed into the room, wind blowing gently.

If she was going to do this, then now was the time.

It was always a pain to use her quirk, as it caused head splitting migraines and she could only use it for a short period of time, but it she had to admit that it was handy for things like this. The woman dug into one of the side pockets on her bag, pulling out a sheathed knife just a bit longer than the length of her hand. Carefully, she put the sheath back to where it was. The blade itself was simple stainless steel, and the handle was a smooth cherrywood, glossy and weighted in her hand. She’s had it for a while now, ever since she snatched it from one of her father’s friends while they weren’t looking; she doesn’t really remember why she stole it, but she’s glad she did, because this little thing comes in handy.

She stalked back towards the door. The school kids were long gone by now, and only the woman lingering in the back was there; looking at the candy bar isle with such intensity you’d think she’s making a life or death decision. Daiki walked out from behind the counter, and for a moment, the woman thought she’d been done for - her heart skipped a beat, her breath halted, her fist clenched around the knife. But the male wasn’t walking towards her; he was just going towards the back aisle closest to the windows, browsing the chips, to probably buy himself some. She coughed quietly, then took a breath.

‘It’s now or never.’

Clenching her eyes shut, she bit her lip, sharp and deep, until she drew blood.

“Hey, what happened? Did the lights go out?” As soon as she heard the confused voice of the woman, she bolted.

The door slammed carelessly against the wall, denting and bouncing against the surface, slamming shut.

“What’s going on? What the hell?”

‘Sorry, Daiki.’

Her footfalls were heavy and quick, the slamming of her shoes on the linoleum floor echoing throughout the building. The woman was screaming now, stumbling over herself, falling into the candy and knocking things off shelves; while Daiki was asking if anybody could hear him, trying not to panic, his breath quickening to gasps and heaves as a panic attack took him over.

“Villains! There’s villains! Help, we’re being robbed!”

The woman stabbed her knife into the cash register where the keyhole was, twisting, stabbing, then twisting again until it popped open.

“Villain, huh..?”

It was pure chaos, really. The two other people were screaming, crying out for help, clawing at their ears and eyes and mouth.

“I’m going to die, god, please! Get me out of here!”

As she stuffed every bit of cash she found in her bag, she had to admit that she felt guilty for taking advantage of someone like Daiki, who was too kind for his own good; his pained voice almost made her regret.

Almost.

There wasn’t any more money in the register by the time the woman was finished, and she bolted yet again, back into the breakroom, panting. She had maybe five minutes left until her quirk wore off, which was plenty of time for her to climb out that window and book it. She did just that, throwing one leg over the ledge, then the other, and fell to the wet ground hard on her tailbone with a whine.

She jumped up, glancing out towards the street, but deciding against it. She can run through the alleyways until she’s sure she’s far enough from here. She flipped around, running between the towering buildings on either side of her, jumping over a few trash bags, ignoring the wretched smell they gave off. She turned the corner at full speed, only to run into a body hard and fast, knocking them both over.

The woman squeezed her eyes shut as pavement met with skin and as skin met with even more skin, bodies rolling a few times over on each other, twisted together awkwardly and painfully. Both participants groaned loudly; curses spilling from each pair of lips. She winced as her eyes opened.

She was momentarily confused, immobilized by whoever was on top of her, trapping her under their body. All she saw was bruised, scarred flesh, the smell of smoke enveloping her senses. Her nose twitched, smushed painfully against a collarbone. Everything was skin, bone, rainwater and ash. The body shifted, propping up on their elbows that were now placed on either sides of her head. Her eyes widened.

“What the fuck.”

He smirked.

“What a greeting. You that excited to see me, sweetheart?”

She replied by raising her arms and shoving him hard off of her, and she jumped to her feet, trying to blink away the dizziness that drowned her out. The familiar male stood up, brushing off his jacket while gazing down at the panting woman in front of him.

She reminded him of a feral animal, in the state she was in.

“That was quite a heist you pulled back there. Didn’t think you’d have something like that in you,” he drawled.

She practically hissed, glaring up at him, “you saw that!? Goddamn it,” she gasped like it was her last chance to breathe. “Then you know that I gotta go, like, now.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

“You’re such a creep.”

Seething, she wasted no time, turning back around to continue her escape, dodging puddles of snow and water and trash as she ran. There were footsteps not too far behind her, keeping up with her rushed pace easily.

He whistled. “So, where ya headed?”

“Oh my god,” she wanted to scream, and she would have, if not for the sirens reverberating throughout the alleyways, telling her that her that her quirk has finally worn off. She has to find a hidden place fast, or she’s gonna pass out right where the police will find her collapsed body - and that’s not really ideal, to say the very least.

“I don’t know, okay? Why are you,” she paused, gasping. “Why are you following me, anyways? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Now directly behind her, he scoffed. “Of course I have better things to do. But, unfortunately enough for you, princess, I think that you’re in deep shit, and I am gracious enough to offer you a helping hand in these oh, so troubling times.”

“Fuck you. I know what i'm doing.” She said, narrowly dodging a stray cat and almost falling flat on her face.

He hummed. “Oh, really now? So you have a place to hide when you finally pass out cold, where the cops or heroes won’t find you? Do tell.”

A beat of silence passed, then another. She sighed, skidding to a stop, turning to face the male who just barely avoided crashing into her again. He looked the same as he did back at the diner, smug and so far up his own ass you could barely see his head. She coughed, almost violently into her elbow for a moment, sniffing, before meeting his intense gaze.

“... no. I don't have a place to hide. I don't have a place at all, actually.”

She was angry, sad and fed up, and it showed clear as day on her face in the way her brows furrowed, her lips downturned, and her nose scrunched; the way her eyes glazed over with frustration, hot with emotions she’s tried to repress for so long.

She was so caught up in her own turmoil that she didn’t catch how he seemed to know about her quirk, or how he knew she would have such a drawback.

The male stood there as if they had all the time in the world, smug expression unchanging as he watched her break before him; turning to putty in his hands without so much as a fight. He took a split second to wonder if this is how he looked, so many years ago.

Scared. Broken. Alone.

“I have a place, just a hand full of miles away from here, actually. All you gotta do, is-”

He paused, catching the female, who collapsed forward onto him.

He didn’t get to finish, because the drawback of her quirk was hitting her full force now. Every sound echoed in her ears, her vision doubled, her body numbed. All sense of stability escaped her, leaving her mind muddled and legs wobbly; she stumbled on her feet, forgetting how to speak.

The last thing she sees is the tilting of the earth as she crumbles under its pressure.

-

Daiki shook as he stared down at the broken register, completely barren, only change left in the little compartments. He felt drained, empty, grey. The scrapes on his arms and face stung, shallow but still bleeding. He looked at his hands, his own skin under his fingernails, blood staining the gauze that was so carefully wrapped around his palm. His eyes widened.

Before he knew what he was doing, he rushed out from behind the counter and to the breakroom, pushing the door open and calling for the girl who was resting here. He surveyed the room, before pausing at the couch.

She wasn’t there.

There wasn’t anything here, actually. Nothing except his own crumpled up note, a pack of socks, a few heatpackets and an empty glass. His first thought was that maybe the villains took her, maybe they kidnapped her, but no.

The male gaped in horror, the truth dawned on him, reality choking him as it settled heavy on his shoulders.

Because what reason would the villains have for taking her shoes, her bag and the medicine?

-

“Do you even know how sketchy you sound right now, or are you not aware?”

“Listen here, princess-”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.” she interrupted.

He ignored her, continuing. “-like I said earlier, the only reason your ass isn’t in a holding cell right now is because I dragged your dead weight three miles in the freezing snow,” he deadpanned, “do I really seem like someone who would murder you after I went though all that trouble?”

“Yes.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid.”

The female had woken up a little while ago, situated on the taller males shoulders, being piggybacked through a snowstorm. When she first came to, the earth tilted on its hinges and everything was a blur of what it really was, so she just groaned and buried her head back into the warm crease of the males neck, wanting to die on the spot. It was his dark chuckling that snapped her out of it, kicking and thrashing, falling in a pile of snow not-so-gracefully.

And now, here they are, at the edge of town, in a completely unfamiliar place, sitting outside of a closed vape shop, arguing like a couple of kids.

“I don’t even know your name! Why the hell would I go to your house if I don't know the first thing about you!?”

“It ain’t my house, sweetcheeks-”

“That’s even worse than the last one!”

“-It’s just a place where people like us-”

“Don’t lump me in with you, i'm just a thief-”

“Can you let me talk for one minute, goddamn!”

The woman pursed her lips, irritated, but kept quiet. She hated it when people yelled - it always sent chills down her spine in the worst way possible.

The male sighed. “This place is just a shitty underground bar, with a few apartments above ground settled on top,” he ran one of his scarred hands through his hair, rolling his neck lazily, “the people there are all there for the same reasons as you, probably.” he stretched his legs out from the crossed position they were in, leaning back on his hands. “So, if you have nowhere else to go, where could possibly be better than somewhere where everybody has something in common?”

She was silent, so he continued. “All i’m saying is that you might as well check it out.” That bored expression of his morphed into a smirk, eyes dark and dangerous and alive as they shifted from the cloudy night sky to the woman hunched over beside him. His voice lowered to something akin to a purr, smooth as thorns as each syllable dripped off his tongue like honey.

“Because you have nothing left to lose, do you?”

It was a statement more than a question, really, because he already knew the answer. When her glassy eyes rose up from the ground to meet his own, he knew right then and there that he had won.

Behind those eyes there was fire, and if he and the rest of the league fanned the flames, it would grow into something terrifying; something unstoppable.