#i wish i knew more about chopin to find his favorite character

[italoniponic]

it's so funny when yt on desktop goes in a sort of bug, so I have moments like this when going to the video description to find the timestamps:

"oh yeah, my favorite Nocturne from Chopin! Akaza Enters the Infinity Castle"

#kimetsu no yaiba #akaza #kny akaza #i wish i knew more about chopin to find his favorite character #cherry's mumbling about kny

[doctorthreephds]

Synapses: Part 4

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 6.4k

TW: Death, sickness, blood, violence, typical Criminal Minds stuff, specifically from the episode “Amplification”

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with Spencer as your relationship grows. But, the calm is just before the storm and your job puts you in more danger than you signed up for. 

Masterlist

Taglist: @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @green-intervention​ @eevee0722​

Spencer made it easy to fall in love. You had little knowledge of romantic relationships besides a couple of elementary and middle school “relationships” that were barely romantic, just a couple of kids attempting to find their way in the world. Your experience with relationships, in general, had been difficult. Your father was estranged growing up and your mother was loving but constantly busy with work and her duties as a diplomat. She made time for you, though, and in the end, you wish you had made more time for her. 

Death is a fickle thing, it is the only thing that makes life worth living, and yet even as a forensic scientist, you wanted to figure out how to evade it. When your mother died, your relationship with death was complicated because you felt cheated. That she deserved so many more years of life and that you should have done more to help. You know that in your heart, you feel a deep passion for Spencer, that you want to get to know him and to cherish him as he should be cherished, but death still loomed overhead and it terrified you. So you hold Spencer at an arm’s length. While he had no problem hugging you and holding your hand occasionally, you made sure he remains cordial and platonic with you. Such a task was difficult, though.

Your feet ache as you walk over to the elevator, sniffling in an attempt to calm your runny nose. Spring had officially set in and so had your allergies; it seemed as if all the pollen in the world was coming for your sinuses. Pulling out a tissue to blow your nose, you barely register Spencer standing next to you. 

“I’m going to see Ponyo in theaters tonight, it’s a limited run and they’re playing it in Japanese. You could come with me, I could even simultaneously translate it to you,” he states and you jump slightly in surprise, not having expected him to be there.

“Sounds like fun, but I desperately need Claritin and I wouldn’t want you to miss the screening,” your voice is nasal as you speak, the pressure in your head making it pound with every step you take once you exit the elevator.

“It’s no problem, we can both head home and I’ll just pick you up with my car,” he suggests, and you look over suspiciously.

“You hate driving.”

“But I’d drive for you,” you sigh as the two of you make it out of the building and start toward the metro. “I’d just really like to see it with you, I think you’d enjoy it.”

You huff as the breeze picks up slightly, hitting you with another face full of pollen. Looking over at Spencer, his eyes were bright and full of mischief. He holds onto the strap of his bag as the two of you walk down the stairs and you try your best to read his face. Only pure content and joy, oh how this man has ruined you.

“Fine. Only if you pay for dinner,” you mumble, blowing your nose into another tissue as the train approaches. 

“Of course, it’s my turn anyway,” he states, a satisfied look on his face. The two of you often paid for each other when it came to food, remaining constantly indebted to each other. But this way, you always knew he would come back. Because he owed you.

Getting home was a relief, it truly serves as a place to escape and decompress. After being stuffy all day and having to work through several reports as you reviewed the evidence and possible threats, it had truly been a test of your patience. After taking Claritin and changing into something a little more suited to the weather, Spencer arrives right on time. The rest of the night goes off with a hitch and more often than not do you find yourself looking over at Spencer as his eyes take in every single little detail of the movie. True to his word, the two of you order cheap nachos and pizza from the movie theater and munch on it during the movie. He speaks translations to you in a low whisper, adding intonation and inflection to distinguish between the characters. Spencer never ceases to amaze you and while you love Ponyo, there’s just something so alluring about watching Spencer talk about things that interest him. At the end of the movie, he continues to process and talk about every little detail left to his whim. 

“While Ponyo is essentially a movie about a child’s innocence and familial love, there is an underlying theme that comments on the pollution of our oceans, as seen in the character of Fujimoto who is afraid of humans and constantly criticizes them,” Spencer says as the two of you walk into the foyer. 

“The ramen looked amazing, though. It makes me hungry for some real food,” you state as the smell of popcorn makes you crave even more food.

“Food in film, specifically films directed by Hayao Miyazaki, are a tool to show togetherness and family as well as human nature. The details of the food tell their own story in many of the other movies. We’ll have to check them out if they even come to the theater,” he continues and you smile, shaking your head.

“Or we can just watch them at my apartment. I’ll buy the whole box set and we’ll just have a whole binge,” you tell him as the two of you make it out onto the street, walking back to his car.

“That’s also good too,” he says as you bark out a laugh. “It’s a date.”

While such trivial words shouldn’t insight fear inside of you, it doesn’t stop you from spending the rest of the night thinking about it after Spencer drops you back home. It remains in your mind the next day when you go to work and find your way to the BAU during lunch, only to find that they were called away on a case. So, the rest of the week is spent thinking about the words “it’s a date.” Obviously, he meant a physical date, like the one on a calendar. But what if he wasn’t? He hadn’t been over to your apartment before and you had never gone to his. It was like a platonic line the two of you hadn’t crossed so that your relationship would stay strictly on the down-low. What did it mean that he wanted to come over to your apartment, then? On a so-called “date?” There wasn’t even an actual day you planned to have your movie marathon on, so technically it couldn’t even be considered a date. Just a plan. 

That Friday, you were getting ready to go home and crash on the couch after ordering take out when Penelope texts you.

From Penelope (5:46 PM):

I’m gonna need some reinforcements up here, the team is just getting back.

To Penelope (5:46 PM):

Hard case?

From Penelope (5:47 PM):

Like you can’t even imagine.

Sighing, you get up out of your chair and head to the elevator, going a couple of floors up to the BAU. When you get out, Penelope stands there with a face of anticipation as she sees you walk out. 

“Oh good, they’re almost here. Spencer’s not doing too hot,” she says and you frown, turning to face the elevator.

As if they were summoned, the second elevator opens up to reveal the team in several different states of fatigue and disappointment. Spencer stands in the back, hunched over slightly as he frowns and follows the rest of them out once the doors are fully open. You smile at your dad and pat him on the shoulder as he leans down.

“The gelato place downtown is still open,” he whispers and kisses your cheek before walking into the offices. You walk in front of Spencer and gently bump into him to break him from his stupor. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you ask and look up at him, seeing the furrow in his brow and the dark circles under his eyes that look even darker. 

“Nothing, I have to work on my reports,” he mumbles and walks past into the offices.

“Why don’t we go get food and you can come back, just to help clear your mind,” you insist, following him as he collapses into his office chair, rubbing his temples to relieve a bit of the stress built up over the past couple days.

“I have too much to work on,” he brushes you off and turns to stare at all the papers stacked up on his desk.

“You can work on them this weekend,” you state and push the spinny chair so that he faces you. “I know something is wrong, we’ve known each other for several months and I can tell when something is bothering you. Now, I’m not going to ask, but I do know that you can complete reports faster than everyone here and that you can take them home. So, I declare today backwards day. Let’s go grab some ice cream.”

You smile your biggest smile in hopes of breaking him out of his spiral and the reference to Ponyo definitely helps. He smiles slightly, although it doesn’t reach his eyes, and shoves a couple of folders into his satchel before standing.

“Lead the way,” you smile at him and loop your arm around his in hopes of helping to keep him grounded. The two of you walk out of the BAU in silence, but you can feel a change in Spencer already. Hunting the worst types of people every single day as a job constantly gets to you, especially when it comes to this team who constantly look at the mind of unidentified subjects to catch them. With your father, he deals with it through good old compartmentalization and expensive alcohol. For Spencer, you would guess it’s not as easy. His mind was endlessly thinking and analyzing so any mistake made would be remembered and replayed. The best you can do is let him know that there’s a world around him other than everything going on in his head. 

After getting on the metro, you engage in simple conversation, telling him about what you’ve had the luxury of working on and the most recent book you had been reading: The Awakening by Kate Chopin. When you see the stop for downtown, you pull him off the train and begin to walk toward your favorite family-owned gelato establishment. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, looking around at the nightlife of D.C.

“It’s a surprise,” you wink and pull him toward a small shop full of freezers filled with gelato. His eyes light up at the sight of the gaudy decorations that are over the top depictions of Florence and Rome. 

“Gelato?”

“It’s backwards day!” you remark and order a medium stracciatella. 

“I’ll get a medium mint chip,” he asks and you reach out hand over your card before Spencer can get to the cashier. 

When the both of you have your gelato in hand, you both slowly meander down the street as you devour into your delicious treat.

“Did you know that the word stracciatella comes from the Italian word ‘stracciare’ and is also the name of the famed soup that is popular in the Lazio region of central Italy? The same technique is applied to the ice cream but instead of chocolate and ice cream, it’s broth and an egg-based mixture. It’s a western variation of the Chinese egg drop soup,” he gets out before spooning some of the gelato into his mouth. You can only smile at him as you admire how beautiful he looks in the dim lighting, rambling on and effectively getting him away from the horrors of the world, even if for a moment. He continues to talk about soup and how often eastern traditions are westernized and taken over, but all you can do is stare at him and think about how head over heels you are for him. 

Perhaps it is love. But your heart is stored in a box away from harm. Its defenses were weakening, though. Every word spoken by Spencer was like a small chisel working away at the precious marble box, artistic and masterful. You love him, yet in your mind, keeping it from him meant keeping him safe. Or, keeping yourself safe.

Quiet weeks are always appreciated at the FBI. Quiet weeks for you meant simple research and few reports, just enough to keep yourself busy. Quiet weeks for the BAU were just simple consultations and writing up all their fieldwork into manageable reports. But, before a tsunami, the ocean always rears its ugly face. 

You knew something was wrong when your director called you before dawn. A shrill noise jerked you from your sleep and you pull your phone to your ear even before checking the caller.

“Agent Montgomery,” you reply groggily, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you check your digital clock.

“There’s a suspected attack, we’re sending an agent to pick you up. The FBI is under strict media blackout rules so do not inform anyone,” Director Chase states. “There’s Cipro for you on arrival.”

Your heart beats out of your chest at the mention of anthrax. You had just started college when the Amerithrax attacks happened, it had been one of the reasons you wanted to become a toxicologist. Never in your life did you ever expect to face an actual anthrax attack head-on. 

Getting ready is a blur, you pull on suitable clothes and meet the other agent when they arrive. During the drive, you are given a very quick debrief. Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms with black lesions and lung failure after they had all been at the same park after 2 p.m. The strain of anthrax used was weaponized and reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs, odorless and invisible. At the moment, there are eleven dead with the number quickly rising. All remaining patients were moved to a special wing in Walter Reed Hospital with Dr. Linda Kimura from the CDC and her team overseeing the treatment of all victims. You memorize this information and how you would apply your skills, finding any evidence and analyzing it. The thought of working with the BAU is both exciting and terrifying. Your father would be at risk, and so would Spencer. The only peace of mind is the fact that you would be working with them so any harm that comes to them would go through you first. 

Once at the Bureau, you swallow the Cipro dry and take the elevator up to the BAU where several military scientists have gathered and move around the busy offices. Your director approaches you as you enter and glance around at all the chaos.

“Dr. Kimura’s already in the conference room with Agent Jareau and Agent Hotchner. You’ll be accompanying them to any possible active sites to try and gather a sample as well as oversee the response,” he states and you nod, climbing up the stairs and trying not to throw up the pills you just swallowed. Seeing JJ and Hotch helps to ground you a little but your heart still beats quickly.

“Dr. Kimura, it’s nice to meet you,” you smile weakly and shake her hand.

“You too, I just wish it wasn’t under these circumstances,” she replies and you nod, turning to look at the file full of evidence. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, less than twenty-four hours and already fourteen people were dead. 

The rest of the team shuffles in and you meet Spencer’s gaze, seeing the worry build up in his eyes like tiny storms. You were sure that your face shared the same fear. As they are debriefed, you find yourself looking through at the lesions and pictures shared, trying not to grimace at the sight. College had its fair share of gross photos, but those people were either dead or safe. Time was not your friend.

“Reid, go with Dr. Kimura and Dr. Montgomery to the hospital, interview the victims,” you tune in at your name and look up at Hotch as he delivers assignments. “There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

“We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something,” Dr. Kimura huffs out as she raises the tray for everyone to take.

“This is really happening?” Emily asks. That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Can such a weapon be real?

“We knew this could happen. We’ve done our homework. We’ve prepared for this. This is it,” Hotch speaks the words as if they are a mantra as if the FBI knows everything. And while he’s right, the FBI does not know everything about this strain of anthrax. The unknown kills people, you just hope you can get to it before it kills more civilians. 

“Jin dan,” your father says. “May you live one hundred years.”

Your jaw clenches as you watch both your father and Spencer takes the pills. Your father is on the older side, you know that and he’s lived through a lot, but something like this would take him out in a matter of hours. And Spencer, he’s young and healthy, but this spore had killed fourteen people. What was another victim? 

As you follow Dr. Kimura and Spencer out of the conference room, your mind is full of statistics and chemical concoctions that could help you. It moves quickly and swiftly, distracting you from the escalation of the current situation.

“Why didn’t you take the Cipro?” Spencer asks as you stand in the office. 

“I took it when I arrived, I was here before you,” you respond monotonously, sighing as you turn and give him a reluctant smile. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. Never really been ‘in the field’ before.”

“You’ll be great,” he offers you a look of encouragement and squeezes your hand as you follow Dr. Kimura to the cars, waiting for Spencer as he grabs files from JJ. 

The car ride is spent talking about treatments and other specific details. You focus on trying to break down the creation of the spores as well as possible antidotes to combat it. Because there are no know samples just yet, you work through from the other angle. How does one weaponize a regular bacteria? Well, increasing its ability to quickly become activated and multiply would do the trick. To fight against it, our white blood cells would need to work just as quickly to get rid of the foreign bacteria that attacks our immune system, therefore an antidote would be able to target this bacteria and destroy it at the same rate. Just as a vaccine would. Arriving at the hospital is a bit jarring, you walk with Dr. Kimura and Spencer up to the wing where you break off and look at blood and toxin reports to fully understand what parts of the body are being attacks as well as what kind of chemicals makes up this specific toxin. 

“What’s causing her aphasia?” Spencer asks as they make their way back over to you. This piques your interest as you take notes on a separate piece of paper, jotting down everything you can think of to help understand.

“The poison is infecting the parietal lobe, impairing her speech. Some of the other patients displayed the same symptoms shortly before they died,” she states solemnly, and you sigh as you speak out.

“The only thing that can help them is if we find the antidote because unless we do a molecular analysis of the specific strain, we’re unable to understand how this works,” you grumble, the want to lash out angrily growing. “This can’t be his first attack, especially if he was a scientist. You run small trials before getting to human subjects.”

You continue to work with Spencer, sifting through ideas as Dr. Kimura makes calls and inquires about possible previous victims. It made sense in your little science brain, that one would not test on a bigger group before ensuring it was deadly with a smaller group--like vaccine or drug trials. As Dr. Kimura brings over a list of other patients, Spencer goes into another area to call the team as you cross-reference your notes with her. 

“So far, all we know is that this is anthrax. Do you think I can use blood and tissue samples in your lab for analysis? Maybe I can refine the strain and get an antidote or perhaps see how quickly it multiplies,” you ask and she nods.

“Of course,” she calls over another nurse and asks for blood and tissue samples from an already deceased victim and asks for it to be delivered to your lab.

As Spencer steps out of the closet, you look over at him and try to memorize every part of him. The revolver that sticks out of his hip, the badge, the long unruly hair, his violet shirt, just everything that makes him Spencer. Your heart was racing with nerves and all you wanted to do was take him out of harm’s way. 

“How are you feeling?” he inquires as you shake your head. 

“I feel useless. I’m no medical doctor nor am I any closer to finding the antidote,” you mumble and look up at the ceiling to try and stave off the tears. 

“You’re doing great. It’s a waiting game until we get more answers about the profile, you’re doing the best you can,” he reaches out and wraps an arm around you as you hug him, sighing as you deeply inhale his cologne. 

“Yet my best can’t stop all these people from dying,” you look over at the young girl that Spencer was talking to, watching as every breath in her lungs feels like the last. 

“You’re one person. And I know that when it gets down to it, you’ll be brilliant,” the two of you pull away slightly and you look up at him, your noses almost touching. You could kiss him right now if your lives weren’t being threatened, but the voice of Dr. Kimura breaks the two of you apart. 

“How’s she doing?” Spencer asks as the three of you walk over to the window, Dr. Kimura pulling up her charts.

“She’s a fighter. She’s held on this long because she’s young and strong. But she’s started to bleed into her lungs,” Dr. Kimura states and you stare through the glass, wanting to will this young girl to live. 

“One of four left,” you mumble and look over at Spencer. 

“We’re running into another problem. When next of kin have questions, what do we tell them about cause of death?” you look back through the glass as you ponder another unanswerable question. 

Once the samples are ready, you and Spencer go down to the hospital lab where you try to isolate the spore in each of the samples and look at them underneath the microscope as well as streak them on Petri dishes. Spencer helps with tools and supplies so you aren’t running around, but the most that the microscope tells you is that it is anthrax and the dishes won’t be ready for analysis any time soon because they need to incubate. Once done, you clean and sterilize everything before sitting down on one of the chairs and looking up at the fluorescent lights of the hospital.

“This is useless,” you mutter and shake your head.

“No, it’s not. They’re delivering the profile right now and then we’ll be able to find a suspect,” Spencer tells you as you look over at him, a small smile on your face. 

“Are you always this optimistic, Dr. Statistics?” you ask as he chuckles.

“No, because I’m usually running and forming statistics, but you distract me enough from the looming threat of death,” your eyes widen as he speaks as you let out a short laugh before his phone begins to ring. The conversation is short, but you gather that you finally have a suspect worthy of bringing in.

“That was Morgan, we’re going to a suspect’s house. His name is Dr. Lawrence Nichols and he tried to lobby for money to fund his anthrax preparedness plan but failed because it wasn’t feasible,” he says as the two of you grab your things and make your way down to the bottom floor, Derek meeting you as the three of you take off toward his house. He fills you in on Dr. Nichols’ past, his adamancy about wanting all families to have protection against anthrax as well as his inevitable job termination. Your hands shake with nerves as you think about having to be around people, specifically people that could potentially pose a threat to your life. This wasn’t what you did, nor was it who you were. You were far out of your comfort zone, but at least you could be helpful instead of sitting around in a lab. 

The three of you wait outside the small suburban house, waiting as the hazmat team goes through and ensures that there are no traces of anthrax that could threaten your life. 

“This guy just had people over for a charity event last month,” Derek states and you look over at the house, it was painted a robin blue. You would never suspect a serial killer to live in such a normal house. 

“We should probably take a look around anyway,” Spencer suggests as the three of you head toward the garage and behind the house. 

You stayed quiet and observed from a scientific view, looking over at the rose bushes and reaching over to touch the delicate flower. Though even the most beautiful flowers have thorns and you wince as a sharp point pricks your finger. Following Spencer, you stick the finger in your mouth to get rid of the blood. 

As you maneuver around the many plants, Derek’s phone rings and he puts Penelope on speaker as Spencer listens in. You, on the other hand, continue to look around for any evidence pointing toward him being the suspect. Perhaps a lab of some sorts. As you enter the smaller building behind the house, you instantly see the makings of a lab with the fumes hood and the surplus of beakers and Petri dishes. Stepping into the lab, your heart jumps in your chest when you see a shattered test tube on the floor with white powder. 

Behind you, Spencer calls out your name and you rush over the door to close it, the chill of the air conditioning blasting behind you.

“Spencer, get back! Get back right now,” you fumble with the lock, shutting yourself into the lab with the vial. 

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” he asks and pushes against the door.

“No, please, Spencer. Get away from the door,” you beg, tears forming in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? Open the door,” he persists as he stares at you through the glass. Was it enough? Was he infected? You couldn’t know for sure. 

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you mutter, a tear dripping down your cheek as you step back from the door. 

“Kid, what’s going on?” you hear Derek call out from behind Spencer as he backs up from the door.

“Call Hotch. Call an ambulance. Call everyone,” he tells Derek as the fear fills your veins. Your hands are so cold, why are they so cold? Spencer’s sweet voice isn’t enough to talk you down from the anxiety building up. This was the tsunami and you were caught in the tidal wave.

Spencer stands away from the door as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring silently out at him. Your phone rings as he calls you and you put it on speaker. 

“Tell me what’s going on, everyone’s on their way. You need to describe everything to me,” you can see Spencer’s mind going a million miles an hour and you could see the blame he put on himself. This wasn’t him, this was all you. At least you were right about anthrax getting through you before it did him.

“There’s a body here, I think it’s Nichols, and he’s dead. There’s also a tube that’s shattered. It’s full of white powder, I’m pretty sure it’s anthrax--Spencer,” you pause, staring straight at him. “I don’t want to die, please I’m so scared.”

You hear all the sirens as they approach and you shake your head, more tears falling down your cheeks.

“Sh, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he says and you can see that all he wants to do is wrap his arms around you. “This is where you can help, remember? It’s your turn to be the hero.”

You look up to him, the tears blurring his figure as you wipe them from your cheeks, nodding. 

“You’re right,” you mumble and take a deep breath before beginning to go through the lab. “You’re right.”

First, the body. 

Reaching down, you feel the skin of Dr. Nichols and see the blue-ish tint to his skin as well as the way his blood has pooled. He appears to be dead at least for a day or two, Livor mortis has already set in.

“Spence, he’s been dead for maybe one to two days. Blunt force trauma to his head,” you say just as Hotch and another man join Spencer and Derek. 

“Doctor, we need to get you to the hospital,” Hotch speaks and you shake your head.

“No, I can help. I’m the only one who can work the case here. I’m already exposed, there’s nothing they can do but give me morphine. I can do this,” you state and turn to the lab, looking around for any important information.

“Just get out of there, you need to go to the hospital,” Spencer insists as you continue to search his desk.

“She’s already infected. Now if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure,” the general says and you grab the papers off his desk, reading through his notes. 

“If I’m in here, I can find the cure, or I can make it. If I figure out how he made this strain then I can make the antidote with his notes,” you reply, hearing Spencer sigh with exasperation. “I can also try to see who killed Dr. Nichols, the answer is in here somewhere.”

“Say something to her, order her. She can’t stay in there,” Spencer’s voice cracks and you shake your head, now was not the time to get distracted.

“She’s right, her best chance is to be inside,” Hotch replies and you set your phone down as you read through his writing. “We’re gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother, I’m already infected,” you mumble and break apart all his lab reports. 

“Your dad is going to kill me,” Hotch tells you and you sigh, shaking your head. 

“He does his job, I do mine.”

Your mind reels at the information, but you force yourself to focus and read through the reports and how Dr. Nichols managed to make such a potent spore. In your mind, your best bet is a combination antibiotic and antibody treatment to combat the toxins and ensure that any remaining bacteria is killed off.

“I think there was a struggle, there’s glass spread out and clutter all over,” you tell them, looking around and finding another desk in the corner. “There’s also another desk in the corner that’s smaller and organized. It appears there are two sets of handwriting as well as instructions on how to sterilize and transfer spores.”

“Nichols would know all that,” the general states. 

“He has a partner, maybe even a protege,” Spencer suggests as Hotch and the general run off to go follow that lead. Your phone begins to vibrate and you see that your father is calling you. Picking up, you put the phone to your ear.

“Papa, I’m so sorry,” you mumble, feeling the tears well up once more. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sh, piccolo. This is not your fault. How are you doing?” he asks and you inhale deeply, beginning to feel sharp pains in your chest. 

“I’m fine. I’m working,” you let out a sad laugh and shake your head. “I’m scared.”

“You’re going to be okay,” he tells you and he says it with such conviction that you almost believe him.

“If I’m not--”

“Don’t talk like that,” he cuts you off and you shake your head, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“If I’m not okay, I just want to tell you that you were the best dad in the whole world and that I love you so much. I’ll tell mom ‘hi’ for you,” you hold in a sob as he begins to protest. “I love you.”

You hang up the phone and sob into your hand, breathing in as deeply as possible to try and stay afloat. Quickly, you call up Penelope as something crosses your mind.

“Hey, you,” Penelope mumbles solemnly.

“No funny quip?” you bite your lip nervously as she sighs.

“I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are,” she says.

“Hey, Penny. Do you think you can record something for me?” you ask, glancing out the window to where Spencer is staring in.

“Anything,” you hear her type. “Alright, you’re good.”

“Hey, Spence,” you bite back another sob as it shakes through your chest. “This isn’t how I intended for you to hear this, but here it goes. I love you. So much. And I’m such a coward for not saying it to your face, but, if I’m gone then I want you to know that your brain and your smarts are so incredible, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you so much.”

A woman in an orange suit steps into the room and you quickly hang up your phone, smiling at Dr. Kimura.

“Dr. Montgomery,” she says as does her best to walk in the suit.

“You look nice,” you say and let out a shaky laugh. “How is everyone else doing?”

“Let’s worry about you,” she states and you nod as Spencer calls you back. You answer and put him on speaker. 

“Hey, it’s me and Garcia,” he tells you as a tickle in your throat bubbles up and makes you cough. “I think the cure is in there somewhere. Dr. Nichols was a former military scientist so he’s secretive and paranoid. Prentiss and Rossi don’t think the partner was a coworker.”

“Can you look for the cure while I help them?” you ask Dr. Kimura and she nods as you look around the room. “I’ve been through everything, Spence.”

“I know you’re not thinking straight,” his voice cracks. “But, we need you.”

 You clear your throat and nod.

“You’re right,” you rush over to his desk and look through his items. “There’s a picture of him teaching and a syllabus.” 

You think back to the instructions and think for a moment.

“Hold on,” you run over to the other desk and look at the content. “It’s a student, it has to be if he went through the trouble of writing lab procedures.”

Picking up the thick stack of paper, you instantly recognize it as some sort of thesis. Years of curating your own, you would never forget it. 

“A thesis, his partner was a doctoral student,” sweat drips down your hairline as you sift through the papers.

“He wouldn’t have let just anyone in there so perhaps he opened his lab to a student,” Spencer formulates as you read through the paper. “Check the sciences.”

“Uh, cross-checking with names of former employees or customers with grievances at the bookstore.” Penelope types away at her keyboard as you read through the paper, it mentions things like preparedness and less about the spores itself as well as scientific findings. “Nothing, my doves.”

“This doesn’t sound like a science student, this is all about city preparedness, and response,” you cough and try not to stress about the taste of blood in your mouth. 

“Check the social studies,” Spencer states. “Public policy, urban planning.”

“Hot to trot. There’s a Chad Brown, School of Public Policy at U. of M. matches a Chad Brown, former employee at the book front. I’ll tell Hotch,” Penelope hangs up as you stifle another cough, the pain in your chest worsening.

“You did it, now get out of there,” Spencer says and you turn to Dr. Kimura as you let out another cough. Blood splatters on your hand and you wipe it on your pants.

“You said the cure would be hidden somewhere we wouldn’t suspect. What about Nichols’ inhaler?” she walks up with the inhaler as you put Spencer on speaker. 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you out here,” he says and you hang up as the two of you walk out of the lab and into the tent where people are ready to spray you down. You let the tears flow freely now that you’re out and the water rolls over you in an attempt to get rid of all the powder that might have stuck. Spencer is outside the tent speaking to Hotch and your father as you get naked and hosed down. Once they’re finished, you’re toweled down and put into a gown as you get on the gurney and are wheeled off to the ambulance. 

“Hey, you,” you mutter weakly to Spencer as he walks alongside you. Another cough bursts out of your chest.

“I’m seeing you off to the hospital, the team doesn’t need me,” he states and you nod, taking his hand as they get you into the ambulance. There is a sharp pain in your lungs every time that you move and you cough up blood more and more. The lights in the ambulance are too bright and you feel so hot as Dr. Kimura places her stethoscope on your chest.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Montgomery?” she asks as you fail to hold back another cough.

“I’m obey,” your eyes widen as the words in your head fail to come out of your mouth. “Obey. I fleel fin.”

Your eyes water as you look over at her and then at Spencer who watches you in terror. 

“Okay, that’s okay,” she mutters to you before calling out to the driver. “Driver, faster.”

The sound of your heart beating echoes in your head is nausea and dizziness loom over you, making you close your eyes. All the sounds, including Spencer who seems to be calling out to you, dissipate as you drift off into the darkness. At least he would know. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #emily prentiss #jj #Jennifer Jareau #david rossi #aaron hotchner #Penelope Garcia #derek morgan #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction

[itswildwinters]

Ask for writers

Thank you @theisolatedlily and @soldouthaz for tagging me, I really appreciate it! This lovely tag was created by @soldouthaz, which I think is brilliant to get to know other writers!! I love it, so thank you Sarah!

This is quite long, but I still hope it’s entertaining!

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted: I’ve always wanted to write. I know that I only began publishing this year (January 2020) but years back, I always would open up a blank document and just... write. Lack of confidence and language barriers (I wanted to write in English, but it isn’t my first language and I only became fluent three years ago) have made it so that I would never finish a story. I think we all had our wattpad moment but even on there I would never really publish because the platform just wasn’t right. But then I discovered ao3, where I’d read fics and also improve my English. Then I found out about fests, and I decided to participate in one last year (2019 BLFF) and my first fic then came out! 

And ever since, I’ve been able to write and finish what I start. It’s as if the lock that had been put to block my creativity had been destroyed; posting my first completed fic has acted as a turning point. I was extremely nervous when I first posted, still am, but now I have this need to write and I love sharing what I write and ever since I became a writer, my life’s been a lot better!

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?: I switch between Louis’ POV, or Harry’s POV depending on the story; I tend to sprinkle a bit of myself in the characters I write, but then again they’re also completely different from me! I’ve never based a character completely on myself, which I find quite boring (haha); sometime unconsciously, I’d write a character based on someone I knew. I think some examples on how my characters can look a bit like me, is Hamlet in a sea of mist which has gotten his clear-headedness from me; or in my Murder Mystery fic, the way I describe Louis’ fear is heavily based on how I feel whenever I’m faced with something that makes me uncomfortable.

3. where do you often find inspiration?: art (paintings, music), books, quotes, poems and movies!

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?: having so much free time on my hands has definitely helped; I would seek refuge within my stories, to spice up quarantine!

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence? I love love love playing classical music (Chopin, Saint-Saens, Debussy, Yiruma, Einaudi, Faulkner, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, Mozart to name a few) while writing. I can’t write when it’s anything else. But I can also write when there’s nothing; hearing the rhythmic clicking sound of the keyboard as I press over its keys can be relaxing to me.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?: hm in my writing I guess I tend to write very long sentences, and also I still do grammar mistakes. I hope to work on those points. I also find the way I space my fics very annoying (which is why I’ve begun making outlines!).

7. describe your ideal writing setup: in a couch or a bed with several pillows piled up behind my back, classical music in my ears and a steaming cup of tea next to me.

8. favorite time of day to write?: I love writing when it’s very early, usually after I’ve woken up and freshened up. I don’t like writing when it’s too late because I’m not a night owl; rather an early bird. I especially love when I write and it’s still dark outside, then slowly dawn breaks in and the sky becomes tainted in warm hues of orange, yellow and sometimes even purple and pink.

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?: I love writing fantasy, horror, suspense, action, thrillers. Especially angst and hurt/comfort, as well as slow burn. I’d like in the future to explore sci-fi and magical realism!

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? how do you typically overcome it? I haven’t suffered from writer block so far, which I’m glad!!

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult? writing is the easiest, but outlining (as in, coming up with plot ideas) is quite difficult for me. Also dialogues can be a bit of a problem to me.

12. how do you come up with original characters? (if applicable): I just make them up in my mind, and create them when they’re necessary to the story, giving them personality traits that will help the story develop.

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word? it’s hard to choose cause I have several but favourite: petrichor and least favourite: big

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?: I am proud of the way I describe, which allows me to really settle the story in its verse. I love describing, giving importance to the ordinary. Also feelings; I love describing them and exploring how I can translate them into words, so that the reader can feel them. But I have to work on my dialogues methinks.

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?: those who from the Pit of Hell, roam to seek their prey on earth. I’ve always wanted to begin writing thrillers/Murder mystery fics and with that one I think I managed to? I had read an article on forensic medicine back in the 19th century and it sparked this fic’s plot!

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?: Arial, 11pt, single spaced

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?: I don’t know if this can be considered as a typo but I tend to repeat, within a paragraph, A LOT my character’s name instead of using pronouns. This is because I’m afraid of confusion when another character arrives in the scene.

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?: I don’t know if I understood the question properly, but yes? When I use Louis or Harry in my fics, they’re completely different from real-Louis or real-Harry; they’re my characters, they only have the same names, but their personality reflects in nothing real-life Harry and Louis. 

I think to answer this better: I do separate fic writing from fandom, but I still think that fanfics are important to a fandom; I haven’t heard of a fandom without fanfics! Fanfics spice up fandoms, I reckon, they’re important to bring people together.

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?: Angst is my favourite thing to write, as well as fear. And I struggle with writing humour, I’m not a funny person to be honest

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?: I always hope they like my writing and the plot, also the way I portray my characters. I want my readers to feel the writing, and the story in general. I just want my readers to truly enjoy what they read from me <3

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?: I was told to always write very specifically and to fit my writing into a mould — don’t write��‘he’s’ but ‘he is’, or write shorter sentences, or stop describing so much. But in the end, there isn’t one way of writing — write the way you want.

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?: only one? ahhh this is hard! But I’d love to see those who from the Pit of Hell, roam to seek their prey on earth be turned into a movie. There are also a couple of wips that I could see on-screen but I’ll stick to that!

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?: chronologically. Haven’t explored anachronies (analepsis/prolepsis) at all, but I might soon!

24. how do you handle criticism?: really well!! As long as they’re constructive and not mean, I love hearing what people think. Criticism is the best way for me, a person whose first person is not English, to improve!

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?: DO IT!! Honestly, don’t tell yourself, ‘I’m not good enough’. Just do it. Open a blank document and write your heart away, even if it’s not a story; just begin it. Explore your writing style, then maybe try to mould it into a plot. Writing is not limited to a certain category of people; it’s not just for those who can write. Writing is for everyone, and like most things, one must begin before improving (practice makes perfect!!) <3

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?: anything!!! Just the fact someone clicked on my story, read it, and took time to leave a comment — just that is enough to make my heart bursts with joy. I am so so grateful to every single person who’s ever read something from me.

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?: The verse I’m talking about is still a wip, but the siren/mermaid one that I’m currently building! I’d love to live in it.

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?: Anything, really, my inbox is open to anyone and for everything! I love discussing books, movies and poetry as well as quotes, and maybe I wish people would come forth to ask me more about my fics or my wips, if they have any inquiries! Or I’d love to write drabbles! 

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?: It has made my life so, so much better. Writing has stitched up a gaping hole in my chest. It’s permitted me to improve in English, has made me more confident and has allowed my creativity to flow. I just... I love writing so much. It has also allowed me to meet some incredible people on tumblr, which I’m very grateful for!!

30. why do you write?: for many reasons; to spice up my life, to help me develop my creativity, and because I love it. I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

boost yourself + tags!

1a. share the last sentence you wrote:

The words echo around his head and collide with his temples like truncheon blows.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about:

I’m excited for all of them, but I’ll go with my third BLFF fic. It’s very angsty, post-war, ABO, exes to lovers. It tackles heavy topics, it’s such an emotional fic. I’m so so excited for her (she comes out in January).

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of: 

This is hard. But I’ll go with one from in a sea of mist cause the way Louis answers Harry... I love it:

“I feel like you want to kill me,” he pants out, using his right arm to hold himself up while his other hand comes up to rub at his burning cheek and nose, where Louis had hit him with the sole of his shoe.

“Before our date? No, never,” Louis blinks sweetly, chuckling and climbing up as Harry smiles to himself.

4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s): I will do only those that are already published:

best first lines are from the hope that warbles in my fluttering breast: There, against the window, was stuck millions of snowflakes, their see-through quality no more as they huddled together, pushed against hard surfaces by the merciless wind. 

best last lines are from in a sea of mist: It takes a while for Harry to go to sleep, elation pumping through his veins so fast that the previous tiredness he felt has flown out of the window. But when he finally focuses on Louis’ heavened out breathing, and when he breathes in Louis’ natural perfume that always acts as an ambrosia over him, he manages to close his eyes, and for the first time in a while, he dreams of a future that’s devoid of any darkness.

5a. link the last fic you read: currently reading sweet like honey by @falsegoodnight and Spoonful of Sugar by @zanniscaramouche and they’re absolutely amazing!

6a. link the last work you published: in a sea of mist

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable): tomlinvelvet

8a. someone that inspires you: Louis <3 his music and just his personality overall leaves so much scope for the imagination. There are also so many writers (both non-fanfic writers and fanfic writers) that inspire me daily.

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year: even the best laid plans and just a flicker in the dark both by @falsegoodnight as well as eyes off you by @soldouthaz ... these fics are just so amazing, everything about them is top tier

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag! @falsegoodnight @scrunchyharry @hadestyles @mercurial-madhouse @youreyesonlarry @raspberryoatss @jacaranda-bloom @soldouthaz @behisoneandonly @vintageumbroshirt @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @lougendarey @quelquesetoiles <3 no pressure ofc!

#tagged #interaction

[mistakesarebeingmade-blog]

Sorry this is so late! I wrote an 8000 word angst Bakudeku fan fiction for @otaku-1325  

Participating in @boku-no-secret-santa was so much fun!! I hope this writing is what you were looking for!

Words: 8184

Includes swearing 

Possible typos

No Quirks AU // This fic is slightly inspired by Your Lie in April. If you don’t know what that it, I suggest you watch it with tissues. If you do, well, you have an idea of what’s coming. Enjoy!! (This story is in Bakugou’s point of view)

Silence — A BakuDeku fanfic

-·- silence (n.) — the complete absence of sound | Origin — Middle English: from Old French, from Latin silentium, from silere ‘be silent.’ -·-

“Local piano competition on Wednesday, March 15,” I read to myself.

   Lately, I’ve have had nothing to do. All of my friends have plans and I’m either stuck at home (ugh) or trying to find some bullshit thing to do. I decided to look at the “Upcoming Events” bulletin board at the school as a last resort. The flyer for the piano competition was just the first thing I pulled off the board. I don’t give a shit about piano but anything is better than nothing.

   March 15th is tomorrow. I call my mom to tell her that I have plans.

   “Did you call to tell me that you’re moving out, Katsuki?” she answered. I know, she’s great.

   “No, I have plans for tomorrow so I’m not trapped in the house all fucking day,” I tell her.

   “Language! Also, good for you. You got a life. What is it?”

   “A piano competition…” I mumble, already knowing her response.

   “Katsuki! Oh my fucking God! You really have run out of ideas!” I heard her laughing hard in the background. “Hope you have a great time.” And with that, she hung up, but I swear I could still hear her.

   Well now I’m definitely going and I will have a fucking good time to prove that old hag wrong, I promised myself.

   I just hope that I have a good time or I risk my mother making fun of me further.

   -· We’re all strange and maybe we don’t wanna change ·-

   I decided to wear a black collared shirt with black jeans. They wear the least… death related clothing in my closet. My mother was smirking as I left the house.

   I arrived at the competition just as it began. I was handed a program with the name and order of the contestants. They were all going to play the same piece of music, Chopin something or other. While looking over the list, I recognized a couple of names. They were Kirishima Enjiro and Midoriya Izuku. Kirishima is one of my friends and he told me that he was going to some shitty party, not this. I would make sure to confront him about it later.

   Midoriya is a whole other damn story. We were childhood friends. At first, it was because my mom made me, but he was a really good friend. Midoriya Izuku was loyal, trustworthy, honest, and kind. It was like I won the fucking lottery with him. He’s played the piano for a long time and has always been very good. However, he was eventually considered “uncool”. My more popular friends pushed Izuku away. They gave him the nickname Deku and that stuck. I still call him that, if need be. I see that it hurts him but I have a reputation to uphold. It’s already rocky after coming out as a flaming homosexual. If I was thought to have more than negative feelings towards him, then I’d be ruined. It’s horrible, yes, but that’s the way my mind works.

   Anyway, the competition was starting and I made my way to the auditorium. The first person up was some damn rich kid. I’d never heard of him before. His playing was relatively dull and unoriginal. I nearly fell asleep.

By the second performance, I was asleep. I woke up when a more interesting version of the musical piece was being played. It had harder and louder tone to it. When I looked at who was playing, I was not surprised to see Kirishima at the piano. All eyes went to him. It was amazing, surprisingly, and I sat on the edge of my seat.

Next was the last performance and obviously the other fan favorite, Midoriya Izuku. When he walked on stage, he looked much different from the last time I saw him (two weeks ago). His green hair was a little longer and reflected the light from the ceiling. He wore a suit tailored specifically for him, which fit perfectly. His bright, green eyes glowed from the excitement. He fucking belonged on that stage and we all knew it.

When he sat down at the piano bench, the auditorium went dead silent. We held our breath waiting for Izuku to play the first note. When he did, it sounded so different from everyone else. It was the exact opposite of Kirishima’s performance. These notes were gentle. They were like walking through Japan in a place where the cherry blossoms are in full bloom and you can have all the beauty to yourself.

The notes also told a story. Izuku transformed the song from something dull into a story of his life. They told of a happy, humble start in a simple but beautiful setting. They then moved onto a slightly more excited and nervous tone. There was also a bit of joy in there. It felt like the early school days or maybe a really good friend. They stayed here for a while. Some people were getting noticeably antsy as they awaited the next part of the story.

The next part of the story took a dark turn. They suddenly became the opposite of the earlier happy sounds. Something big and life-changing happened in the story. Maybe the main character lost someone they really cared about? The song was almost done before the tone shifted again. This time it felt like the story’s character was lost without anyone to really hold onto. When I took a look at the people around me, I saw tears in their eyes. I looked over at Izuku. He looked ready to bawl. Then I left something wet on my face. My first thought was rain. My second was that this is an enclosed room. My third was the realization that I, too, was crying.

And, finally, the story (or song, rather) ended. I craved more but could feel that there was none more. That was all of the story so far. Then, I thought back to Izuku’s face as he played the ending of the song. A sudden realization shocked me. This story is his.

Everyone went to their feet while applauding Izuku, as did I. He deserved it. He bowed and waved at the audience. We still clapped. I could see him blushing, even under the bright stage lights. He was proud to have made such an impact on so many people. Some threw flowers onto the stage for him. He picked them up and walked off the stage.

The person I went to see first after the competition was Kirishima. He had more explaining to do and didn’t seem horribly busy (well, he was but I scared them off).

“B-Bakugou! I didn’t know that you liked piano music!” he stuttered. I laughed and elbowed him in the ribs.

“I didn’t until today. You and Izuku left quite the impression,” I tell him.

“Midoriya was so amazing! The way he captivated the audience every step of the way is something I wish I could do. Did you know that he’s been playing since he was three?”

“Yeah. I have a question for you though. Why did you lie about a party, hair for brains?” I gave him my best evil eye.

“Um, well, you see… I wanted to sound cool?”

I rolled my eyes. “Your playing was goddamn manly enough. Now go talk to your fans. I have another fucking person to talk to.”

I left Kirishima to his fans and made my way through the sea of people surrounding Izuku. I tapped him on his shoulder to get his attention. When he saw me, I swear he jumped twenty feet. I chuckled slightly at his reaction.

“Kacchan! Wha-What are you doing here?” he stammers. I notice how he still calls me the name he’s called me since we were little. I find the thought fact comforting.

“Watching people play the piano. You did pretty fucking decent, Deku,” I say without realizing what I’ve called him. He winces but keeps smiling.

“Thank you…” he mumbles. He puts his head down.

“What the hell is wrong? Is everything alright with your mom?”

He looks back up at me. “Huh?” I don’t think he expected me to ask such a personal question after I had bullied him for years.

“Well? Are you ok?” I urge.

“Yes, if it makes you happy. Why do you care, Kacchan? You’ve tormented me for years and now you decide to be pleasant? I’m terrified to face you,” he admits. His words stung, but I deserved that.

“Look around, Izuku. Do you see those people that used to follow me around?” I asked. He looked around.

“No, you left them behind when you got accepted to the high school we attend. What’s the purpose of this?”

“I was cruel to you because those assholes made me. They were the ones that came up with that nickname of yours that I accidentally called you. I never wanted to stop being your friend and I chose popularity over you.” Next, I am going to say the hardest words for me to say, as I’d been raised differently. “I’m sorry.”

Izuku stared at me with a blank look on his face. We stood in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “How do I know that you’re being truthful? I assume that you realized that the way I played the piano tonight described my life, but did you know that part of the dark and desolate section was about when I lost you?”

It was like a dagger through the heart with the way he said that. I knew that I caused him pain but not to the point where he felt so strongly that he could include in a piece of music.

“I didn’t know. Please meet me at the café a couple of blocks from here so I can try and prove myself to you,” I finally said.

He shook his head. “No, Kacchan. I can’t afford another loss. I’ve grown since then. Maybe if you can prove yourself around other people at school, then I might take another chance on you. If not, then you must learn to say goodbye. Oh, and one more thing. I won’t allow you to call me by my first name either until I can trust you again. Have a nice day.”

And then he went back to the people wanting to talk to him about his playing, acting like nothing had happened.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I spun around ready to slap them when I saw that it was just Kirishima.

“Bad day?” he asks me.

“Shitty Hair, don’t sneak up on me!” I yell.

“Sorry! But honestly, how are you? Your conversation with Midoriya didn’t seem to go very well.”

“It was fucking  -f- fine! I don’t want to talk about it and if you’ll excuse me, I need to go home and have a nap or five. See you tomorrow.”

-· I’ll be a dreamer ‘till the day I die ·-

I had a nightmare that night. In it, I was a child again. Midoriya was there, too. He had scratches on his knees and hands from when I pushed him on the ground.

“Stupid Deku! You can’t do anything right! Why did I let you around me for so long? My friends are right; you’ll never be more than Deku,” I had said to the sniffling boy.

He looked up at me with the most broken expression. Tears filled his eyes as he spoke just one word to me: “Why?” Midoriya ran off somewhere after that.

I backed into the looming shadows of our elementary school. I looked down at my hands and saw a blood red color start to envelop my body. I screamed and tried to get rid of it, but it wouldn’t leave. I tried calling for the people I called friends, but they just started laughing at me. I tried calling for Midoriya in the end. When he came, the red shadow disappeared but one word was left etched into my skin: why.

My mom yelled at me when I woke up screaming. “It’s three am, Katsuki! Some of us still want to get some damn sleep!”

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I went to the kitchen and fixed myself a bowl of cereal and watched reruns of old shows until it was time to get ready for school.

Before I left to go to school, I asked my mom something that has been in the back of my mind since talking to Midoriya yesterday.

“Is the Midoriya family doing ok?”

My mom looked at me with a quizzical expression. “What makes you ask that? You haven’t shown a shred of interest in their family since you started bullying Izuku.”

“I was just something he said that has me concerned. He was performing at the piano competition and I talked to him for a little while,” I replied.

“He’s still doing piano even after Inko’s death? Damn, the kid has balls. He still—” I cut her off.

“Excuse me? His mom died and you didn’t tell me?” I shouted. My mom’s face flushed red.

“Shit! I forgot that you didn’t know…” she mutters.

“When?” I demanded.

“It was not too long after I got the second report of you bullying, so around five years ago in September?”

The second report of bullying happened not long after the first. That means that Midoriya’s mom died around when I started bullying him. That just made me feel even worse and further encouraged me to prove myself to him. I ran to the school so I could I could think of ideas.

There weren’t very many people there when I arrived. The only person that I was close to was Kaminari, and he was busy doing late homework. The only people here that could help me with this Midoriya situation are Todoroki and Uraraka. I walked up to them, careful not to look threatening (not easy).

“Uh, hi, Bakugou. What are you doing here?” Uraraka asked me.

“I need advice,” I admitted flat out. “It’s about Midoriya. You see, I need to prove myself trustworthy to him, which will be difficult. It’ll be even harder seeing as how his mom died soon after I started bullying him. I watched him play piano in a competition yesterday, and he poured his heart and soul into the piece. He told a story that couldn’t be expressed through words. Do you understand what I mean by any of that?”

They look at each other with a confused expression and shrug.

Todoroki says, “That won’t be easy. I haven’t been close to Midoriya for a long time, but I’ve seen how he can get when he’s upset. Depending on what it is, it could be really easy or really hard to make him feel happy again. It also has a lot to do with what he wants. If Midoriya doesn’t want anything to do with you, then that’s that. If he secretly hopes for you to come back, it will be easier only by the slightest. What you did was beyond forgiving, in my opinion.”

It’s Uraraka who speaks next. “I agree with Todoroki. You’re not a great person by any means but I have high hopes for you. I also have something else to add and it’ll probably help you out the most. Midoriya really likes it when people have physical, face-to-face conversations. If you can’t manage one of those, then try to do small gestures. They don’t have to be to only him, too. Prove you’ve changed by helping out everyone. Well, maybe not Mineta, but you get my point. Good luck, Bakugou.”

I walked away from them and sat down angrily at my desk. I tried to dissolve into the background and forget that I am here. I listened to small conversations between friends, Iida yelling at someone, and grape head being a pervert become one sound in the back of my head. I closed my eyes and let sleep engulf my conscious.

A loud bang woke me up suddenly. I drowsily looked around to see where it came from and saw Aizawa standing before, a blank expression on his face.

“Would you care to explain why you’re sleeping in my class, Bakugou? I’m the only one allowed to do that,” he said, monotone as usual.

“I was spacing out and I must have dozed off. Oops,” I answered, acting like my old self. I looked around and saw Midoriya shaking his head.

“Uh…I mean, I’m sorry. I should’ve been paying attention. It’s my fault,” I correct myself.

The classroom goes silent and everyone has a shocked look on their face, even Aizawa. Midoriya looks slightly proud of me, I think. It’s hard to tell with that tone of face. He marks something down in one of his notebooks.

“That’s fine. Um,” Aizawa is at a loss for words, still shocked by my apology. “Just pay attention.”

After class is dismissed, I try to think of my next good deed of the day. Ok, those words do not fit me. ‘My next good deed’? Really? Is this what I’ve succumbed to? I’m trying so hard to get Midoriya back that I’m willing to risk all that I’ve worked to get. And why? Why do I care so much about him? I just shrug off the feeling and focus of the task at hand.

I decide to help Jirou, a person I’ve never talked to more than once, carry all of her things to lunch. She was really shocked and apprehensive at first, but when she saw that I meant well, she let it go. It’s kind of a relief when people stop being scared of you. You don’t have to work so hard 24/7 to keep up the appearance. Now, I’m just like the rest of the side characters.

After helping Jirou, I go sit at my usual table with Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina. They joke around about Kirishima’s piano skills (I regrettably told them). Though Kirishima is laughing along with them, his eyes say that he doesn’t like it. I saw yesterday that he is truly passionate about the piano. It was his one escape and I spoiled it for him. I spoke up.

“Hey, dumbasses, how would you like if someone you considered a friend made fun of you for your one true passion? Like you, Mina. How would you feel if someone made fun of your love of aliens and conspiracy theories?”

She stops talking and looks at me. “Pretty shitty, not gonna lie. Aliens are my life!”

I wasn’t done yet. “And Sero? You love Spiderman and used to want to be just like him. I’ve seen your room and you still love him. What if you were bullied for that?”

It was his turn to look slightly confused. “Bad? Regret? I don’t know, but it wouldn’t be happy, I guess.”

Lastly, I turned to Kaminari. “You like Pokémon, specifically Pikachu, and have a fear of water. What if that was leaked?”

Kaminari, despite being a little slow, caught on to what I was doing. “Not good. I see what you mean.” He turns back to a confused Kirishima. “Sorry, bro. I didn’t think about what the piano might mean to you.”

Mina nods enthusiastically. The other had two finally caught on. “I’m really sorry, Kiri! I wasn’t thinking!”

“Me too. We all have our passions and yours is piano. That’s not a reason to joke. I’m sorry,” Sero finished. The three brought Kirishima into a bear hug.

Kirishima, being the emotionally unstable teenage boy he is, burst out into tears. He met my eyes and I just shrugged with a smirk on my face as if saying, ‘Don’t worry about it.’ I looked over and saw Midoriya writing more in his notebook. He glanced in my direction and smiled.

I met up with Midoriya after school. He wasn’t talking to any of his friends so I found the time appropriate.

“You did good today. They loved you,” he says. “Especially the whole thing with Kirishima. Now that was good. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was such a great peacemaker, problem-solver, and just an all-around good person at heart?” Midoriya chuckles.

I looked around. “Don’t say stuff like that out loud!” I continued in a quieter voice, “I didn’t really try that hard with Kirishima. That was instinct. When one of my friends are hurting, I have to fix the problem immediately. He’s my best friend, as well,” I admitted. Midoriya smiled.

“That’s a good thing, Kacchan. You have a real capability of not being mean. You’ve impressed me today. I have to admit, when Aizawa woke you up, I was expecting a full-blown rage attack. Instead, you acted maturely. I took notes on all that you did and now I’m pleased to admit that I accept your café offer from yesterday! I’ll see you there in three hours.”

I actually smiled a bit. “I was going to ask you, actually,” I respond.

“I know. That why I did it.” Midoriya smirks and walks off to join Todoroki, Iida, and Uraraka. They all looked happy together and I was jealous of such a put together friendship, compared to my mess. Don’t get me wrong, I love those little shits, but they can be a real nuisance. They’re like hyperactive puppies that you need to train or else. I don’t even know how I got with them. I guess it mostly has to do with the sports festival earlier this year. After that, we were like best friends.

Anyway, enough about them. I think I’m getting my next chance with Midoriya. That’s exciting, I hope. But also not too exciting. I don’t want to die.  

Later that day, he texted me saying that he was ready to go to the café. I told my mom that I was going out and took the bus there.

When I arrived, Midoriya was taking a few pills but I thought nothing of it. It was probably vitamins. He quickly put them away when he saw me, then waved me over with that dumb smile on his face.

“Hi, Kacchan. How are you?” he asked.

“Eh, fine, I guess. You?” I answered. At this point, we’re just stalling the real reason we’re here today.

“Could be better. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”

“Sure. You believe that I proved myself to you.”

“Yeah. I’m willing to forget about the past if you are. We’ll reset, in other words. This time, however, it’ll be without the bullying, the name-calling, and the backstabbing, deal?” His face remained neutral but his eyes begged for this. He wanted me to be the person from the good parts of his childhood again. No, it’s more than want; he needs me. Though he may have Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki, they didn’t know him at his worst. I did, mainly because I added to it.

“I accept.”

And like magic, we started over right then and there.

“Hello, I’m Midoriya Izuku, but call me Izuku. Pleased to meet you,” he greets with a usually cheery smile. We really are starting all over then, huh? I agreed so I better go along.

“I’m Bakugou Katsuki. Call me whatever the fuck you want. Do like coffee or tea more?” I asked.

“A green tea, thanks. I drink coffee solely for the purpose of energy. It’s disgusting. It tastes like a fruit gone rotten to the point where the fruit is gone. That’s an exaggeration but you get it!” Izuku laughs softly. I buy him his green tea and get a black coffee for myself. He makes a face at me when I tell him what I got for myself. I truly laughed for the first time in a while.

“What do you like to do, Kac— Um, is it alright if I call you Kacchan? If you don’t, that’s ok,” Izuku mumbled.

“You could call me something weird like dandelion and I wouldn’t care,” I tell him.

“Ok! You’re Dandelion now!”

I spit out the coffee I was drinking. “I-I was joking! It was an example! Please don’t call me that near my friends…”

Izuku laughs at how nervous I am. “I’ll just call you Kacchan then. Or maybe Lion or Dandy. Oh, Dandy! I like that!” He throws a sugar packet at me. “You’re so serious, Dandelion.”

I opened up my coffee cup and poured a bit into Izuku’s tea. He gasps loudly. “Well shit. My bad,” I say with a smirk.

“That’s mean! I was thirsty!” he complains.

“Then drink it. Use sugar or cinnamon or creamer to tone down the coffee flavor, if you want,” I suggest.

While he pouts, I try to remove as much coffee taste as possible with only sugar packets, cinnamon sticks, and five different creamer flavors (hazelnut, French vanilla, milk, chocolate, and strawberry, for those who care). Eventually, I got a brown liquid that didn’t resemble coffee, tea, or anything anyone should consume. I showed it to Izuku and his eyes lit up.

“Finally! A drink to match my soul.” Then he took a large gulp only to spit it everywhere afterward. “That was awful! It tasted like milky, really watered down, chocolate strawberry coffee. In other words, like something you’d make.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, fuck you. Anyway, you were asking me a question before your tea rudely interrupted. What was it?”

“Oh, yeah! What do you like to do for fun?”

Fun? I know the meaning of the word but don’t remember having it. “That’s when you smile and laugh or just enjoy yourself, right?”

Izuku gasped. “Dandelion! Do you not know what fun is?” He said this like it was a crime.

I was a little scared to answer. “Uh…No? Being angry is kind of my thing. If I was seen smiling and having fun and shit like that, I would be fucking murdered.”

“Not by your new friends, you won’t. They respect you! I promise that it’ll be ok. Come on, I’m taking you to the arcade.” Izuku stood up and began cleaning up the table.

I joined him and said, “This is 2023, not 1980, Izuku.”

He looked me dead in the eyes. “Do I look like I give a damn, Dandy? My mom taught me to be open-minded about all eras so I went to the vintage arcade. It turned out to be really fun. My mom said that she loved to go to them when she was a kid. We used to go together before…”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry. We can just go somewhere else?” I offered so Izuku didn’t have to talk about his mom anymore that he just did.

“No, no. We’re going and you won’t regret this. I will crush you at Pac-Man and Galaga!” he looked so happy that I agreed.

Upon arrival, I noticed a surprising about of people our age. It’s like vintage was the new modern for some. I even noticed someone from school.

If possible, Izuku smiled even bigger. He turned to me and said, “This will be the best! Todoroki is an expert at arcade games!” Then he catches Todoroki’s eye and waves him over. Behind him is a woman who looks similar to him. “Todoroki! Kacchan doesn’t know what fun is so I’m going to show him. Do you want to help? Also, who’s that?”

“Hello, Midoriya and Bakugou. This is my sister Fuyami. We were visiting our mom earlier and decided to unwind and come here. I guess we’ll join you since we’re here.”

I swear you could kill a hundred people in front of him or even die and he wouldn’t change his emotion.

Izuku pumps his fist into the air and pulls me over to the game called Pac-Man. It was obviously one of his favorites. He hands me a couple of coins.

“What the hell is this for? Do you want a fucking snack?” I asked, completely serious. The others burst out laughing, exception Todoroki, who just smiled a little.

The one called Fuyami spoke. “So you have the coins, yes? Do you see the little slot on the front of the machine? Put the coins in there.”

I did as I was told. “Now what?”

“Do you see the yellow ‘start’ button? Press it then grab the joystick. Once you hear the music start, move the yellow pie and eat the white dots. Make sure to avoid the colorful ghosts because they cause you to lose a life. You only have three. The big white dots turn the ghosts blue and you’re able to eat them for extra points then. If you see a fruit, eat it. Does that make sense?”

I nodded and went over the instructions she gave me. I pressed the start button and began making the little yellow shit eat white dots. It was actually kind of fun. A cherry appeared on screen so I began moving the yellow thing to it, not really paying attention to the things around it. Then, Izuku and Fuyami began yelling at me to turn around. One of the little blobs was coming right for me. I didn’t move fast enough and lost a life.

“That’s ok. You have two more. You can do this, Kacchan!” Izuku yelled. I smiled to myself and began again.

After that first failure, I began to get the hang of it. I finished up the first level in no time. The second and third level went even quicker. Izuku cheered me on.

Before we knew it, I was on level 50. A small crowd had gathered around me at this point. They all cheered me on despite not knowing my name. It was exhilarating. It was…fun. I did my best for all of these strangers but mostly for this small, green-haired boy right next to me.

I had reached level 114 very quickly. I had only one life left at this point but it didn’t fucking slow me down. I wonder if this was how arcades were forty years ago?

Izuku was bouncing up and down as I progressed further. He was happier than I was. I found the thought comforting.

I was nearing the final level when something went terribly, horribly wrong. I don’t know if it was the excitement or something else entirely, but Izuku collapsed. The people gathered around me looked very concerned. I yelled for Todoroki to call an ambulance. The background dissolved into nothingness as I panicked and tried to find out what could’ve gone wrong. Maybe it was the pills from earlier. Did they do something to his insides? Or was it an existing condition? Whatever it was, I hated it and it needed to die.

I convinced the EMTs to let me go to the hospital with Izuku because his mom was dead and his dad had disappeared years ago. I couldn’t focus the whole way there. I was too busy worrying about Izuku and what might happen. I tried asking an EMT what was wrong with him but they wouldn’t listen to me. I decided to call my mother instead.

“What?” she answered with.

“It’s Izuku. He collapsed while we were at that old arcade. I’m in the ambulance going to the hospital with him now. I might not be home for awhile,” I explained.

There was silence for a while. “I’m joining you there. Izuku is like a second son to me and I haven’t seen him since Inko died. I’ll meet you there, Katsuki,” she said before hanging up. Well, I didn’t plan for her to come, but if she wants to, that’s fine. I don’t really care.

When we arrived, there was chaos. I remember being told to sit in the waiting room, so I did. At some point, my mom arrived. One of the teachers from the school did as well. He is like a hero to us so the school dubbed him ‘All Might’ (after a famous comic book character). I don’t think anyone knows his real name.

I felt the presence of someone near me so I looked up. It was All Might. He asked me, “Bakugou, was there anything that might have caused this? Even the smallest detail would help.”

I took a breath. “There was a lot of excitement before he passed out.” I hesitated on the next part. It wasn’t any of my business but this could mean more than I think. “I also saw him take some pills earlier today. I don’t know what kind or how many but they were in the orange prescription pill bottle. That’s all I can think of. Sorry…”

He pats me on my back. “Thank you. Midoriya is like a son to me and it would destroy me if he was to die. I’ll go tell the doctors what you told me.”

I’m left in silence after that. My mother sits near me but says nothing. What is there to say?

Hours pass with no information. I periodically ask for anything but they won’t say. They’re actually trying to find any of Izuku’s living relatives right now. I imagine it’s not easy. His mom’s dead, his dad’s gone, and he never mentioned any grandparents, aunts or uncles, cousins, or anyone else really. I expected that they would turn to either All Might or my mother next.

When night falls, there’s a glimmer of hope. A nurse approaches my mom and me and says, “We were unable to locate any remaining relatives of Midoriya Izuku. How close are the two of you to him?”

“Well, he came over to my home many times in his youth when his mom had to work. My son is a close friend of his from childhood to now,” my mom answers. The nurse nods in response and beckons for us to follow her.

She takes us to Izuku’s room and then tells us his condition. “He’s stable now. Midoriya collapsed from exhaustion. We’ve been running tests and found that he has a form of—” A buzzer sounded at this moment. “Excuse me,” she says before rushing into the room.

“Well, that fucking blows,” my mom states.

“That Izuku is waking up?” I questioned, looking at her, puzzled.

“What? No. That she didn’t get to tell what’s wrong with Izuku.”

“Actually, I don’t think that he wants anyone to know. When I saw him taking pills earlier, he hid them when he noticed me. I don’t think he wants anyone to worry about him.”

“The boy is so nice, I’ll believe that. Oh, yeah. Isn’t his next piano thingy in a couple of weeks?”

The thought had completely left me. Izuku loves the piano and I know that he’s hate to miss this. “I forgot. I’m sure he’ll be fine by then. The preliminary is over and he’s going directly to the semi-finals because of how he ranked.”

The nurse exits the room now. She looks at me. “Midoriya would like to talk to you.”

I enter the room not knowing what to expect. Would he be mad at me? Sad? Have tubes coming out of his body?

“Dandelion!” Izuku says as soon as I close the door behind me. He’s sitting up in bed with a wide grin on his face. Seeing him like this makes me happy and my heart dance.

“You fucking scared me, you piece of shit!” I half-yell while walking over to him.

Izuku laughs. “Whoops! Guess that was a bit too much excitement, huh?”

“Hey, I was winning and you decided to steal my spotlight, fucker,” I replied with a smirk.

“Eh, fair enough. So are you just gonna keep standing there or can I kiss you? I’m sure you feel the tension as much as I do.”

I wasn’t even thinking about it until he mentioned it. I could feel it. Ever since we were young, I had felt that I liked him a bit differently than I liked other people. I was young, so I didn’t think much of it. When I really turned against him in middle school, I partially did it because I found out why I felt so weird around him. I liked him. I hated myself for it. The people I was around condemned that sort of thing so I thought I was doing something bad. I repressed my feelings for Izuku for a few years. Then, all of a sudden, we were having drinks at a café and my feelings came back stronger than ever, yet I still repressed them. And now we’re here, in a hospital room, facing a huge decision.

Do I risk the awkward moments afterward or not agree and never mention this again? What does Izuku want? What do I want? What do we want?

Izuku patiently waits for my answer. It’s not like he’ll be leaving anytime today. I carefully think over the pros and cons of both choices. I decide that one has very little compared to the other. I approach him.

Now, before I do this, let me say that I have a lot to risk and a lot to gain from this. It could be either the best or worst moment in my life but I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

I reach the side of Izuku’s bed and grab his hand. He knows my choice and smiles. I choose him. I lean closer and—

“Midoriya! Are you ok? We— Bakugou? What are you doing here?” It’s Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki, of-fucking-course. Can’t the universe let me have one moment without fucking it up?

I jump back and act like we were just having a nice discussion before they came barging in. “Hello, have you heard of, um, fucking knocking?” I yelled.

“I told you it would be rude to rush in, Uraraka!” Iida said.

She scratches the back of her neck. “Well, uh, I thought it’d be a fun surprise! And…um…surprise?” Todoroki throws confetti from God knows where.

“Thank you! I love this! My best friends are all here! But knock next time, ok?” Izuku smiles to show that he is unbothered. I immediately feel uncomfortable. These people aren’t my friends. I don’t know shit about them. I begin walking to the door to give the four privacy. Izuku is the only one who would want me there, anyway.

“Dandy? Where are you going? Do you have to be somewhere?”

“Sort of, but—” I start saying.

“Let him go, Midoriya. He’s an ass,” Iida announced.

I look back at Midoriya. His eyes plead for me to stay but I know I can’t. I’m no longer welcome. The only one of them who may have stood up for me alongside Izuku is Todoroki because he saw how I was earlier, but he stayed out of it.

“I’ll text you later,” I said before leaving and shutting the door behind me. There’s only silence as I walk home.

I don’t bother texting him later, either. I had my chance and I blew it. It wouldn’t be easy to explain what happened to Izuku. I don’t go to school Friday and stay home all throughout the weekend. I get many texts from my friends and a few from Midoriya but I don’t look at any of them.

My mom enters my room. “You can’t stay here forever, Katsuki.”

“Watch me,” I mumbled.

“It’s Sunday afternoon for Christ’s sake! You’ve been in here since Thursday evening and only left to use the toilet. You’re losing a bit of weight! I’m actually worried about you.”

“Thanks for caring, but can I please go back to isolating myself?”

“A few of your friends have come by asking for you. I told them that you were sick. You were even left a flower with a note.”

The flower part caught my attention. “Let me see,” I say. The only person who would give me a flower would be either Mina or Kaminari, both as a joke. She hands me the flower and note.

It’s the kind of flower, or weed, that catches my eye. It’s a dandelion. I unfold the note next. It reads as follows:

‘Dear Dandelion,

I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable at the hospital. Todoroki and I scolded Iida and Uraraka for their behavior. They apologized, but I know that it means very little to you.

I don’t know your mind as well as I would like to. You’ve changed since we were kids. We’ve both gone through a lot. I know you don’t do well around people and I should’ve made my friends realize that and given us our privacy. You left before I could go with you. I was discharged two hours after you left. I was mad at my friends for ruining what could have very well been the end of our beginning.

I’ve been texting you to try and go out on a date but you didn’t respond. Honestly, I got worried. I love my new friends and all but I’ve known you longer. If something were to happen to you, I might die. And I mean that in a literal sense.

Speaking of death, that nurse didn’t tell you about me, did she? I asked the hospital long ago not to tell my condition to anyone without my approval. I know that you know that something is wrong with me at this point. You saw me taking pills and saw me pass out. Those aren’t the actions of a healthy person. I would tell you but I hate to have people feel sorry for me. When my mom found out, she began spoiling me. Remember when I got a new game console? That’s why.

I’m writing a second letter to you that explains everything I’ve just told you in detail and other things. I hope you never have to read it.

Sincerely, Izuku Midoriya

P.S. I’ll be at the café at three pm on Sunday. If you don’t want to come, I won’t make you.

Three pm was thirty minutes ago! If I’m going to go, I better go now. I quickly change into a t-shirt and jeans and begin running to the café. If I’m lucky, I’ll make it before Izuku leaves. I’ll be there in about eight minutes at the rate I’m currently running at. I just hope that Izuku decided to wait an hour for me.

It’s nearly four when I arrive. I search the building for Izuku. When I don’t see him, I ask the barista if they’ve seen him and she said that he left ten minutes ago. I thank her and begin running to Izuku’s house (the only reason he still leaves there and not a foster home is because he lies about his dad).

When I get there, I frantically knock on the door. It wasn’t Izuku who answered, it was Uraraka.

“Oh! Hi. I thought you were Iida. We’re having a study session and… never mind. Um, come in!” she greets. I shove my way past her and run up to Izuku’s room. I swing open the door and he’s sitting on his bed. I let out a sigh of relief.

“Dandelion! You’re here!” he exclaims with a large grin. “I thought you died.”

I laugh nervously. “I’m fine now. I had just gotten really bad anxiety after the hospital. I got your note at 3:30.”

“I’m so sorry! Was it my fault? I should’ve been more considerate of your feelings before asking—”

I cut him off with a long overdue kiss and in that moment, everything was perfect. The world was made just for us. Izuku wasn’t sick, I never bullied him, and his mom never died. You know people always describe first kisses with someone is like fireworks? Yeah, fuck that. This was like the part on a roller coaster drops you: exhilarating, a little scary,.  but a lot of fun.

When I pulled away, I heard a familiar, commanding voice and a very feminine giggle. Izuku looked at the door and laughed. I turned to confirm my suspicions.

“It was Uraraka’s fault! She told me that we should check up on you but then she noticed your moment and watched! I apologize,” says Robot Nerd aka Iida.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I guess. But how could I not watch? You both looked so happy and peaceful and in love! I was going to take a picture to show your grandkids, but Iida said no,” Uraraka says with a pout.

This time, I don’t feel uncomfortable. Izuku can tell. He smiles at me and I smile back.

-· Oh, how the good die young ·-

It’s the day of Izuku’s next piano contest-recital-thingy. He’s going to play one of Bach’s musical things along with everyone else there. He told me that he wouldn’t play it as his story but instead, he would play for me. Nice things like this made me forget that Izuku would die one day.

Izuku put more emotion into this performance than his last one yet it was much more peaceful. The last one was the ocean but this one is a lake. This was tiring him out though. He was sweating and struggling to stay in tune but he managed. Watching was like magic.

When everything was done, I met with him in the foyer. Somehow, Izuku wasn’t as happy this time. He appeared scared. When I get near him, he hugs me tightly.

“I can’t do this, Dandelion! Toward the end, I thought I was going to pass out. The doctors gave me a brand new medication but it’s worse,” he says. When he looks up at me, tears are falling down his face.

“What? You were fine a few weeks ago!” I exclaim.

“That was before the collapse. Please, I... I don’t want to say anymore. I can’t have you feeling sorry for me as my mom had. It’s not good for you.”

“Ok. Alright. I just want us to be happy in the time we have.”

And we were.

Dear Bakugou Katsuki (aka Dandelion!!),

How are you? Probably not the best if you’re seeing this, I guess. I hope we had many good memories and I hope you keep them alive. I know that we had a rough history and that’s ok. We broke past that and into the future.

The best possibility is that you never read this and I’m cured. However, I know that can’t happen. The survival rate for what I have isn’t very high. I have (or had) terminal brain cancer. You probably wonder why I never had chemotherapy. Well, I did and was sick for days afterward. They didn’t do it again. I’ve passed out in the past, just never in front of a crowd. I know most of my nurses and doctors by name. That’s how often I go. There. That’s my sickness.

I wish I could’ve stayed with you longer. You’ve made me both the happiest and saddest person on Earth. Earth… This calls for a space analogy!

There are stars, galaxies, nebulas, planets, black holes, solar systems, and all kinds of things we don’t know about. I think of you as a nebula— beautiful, definitely dangerous, but a place for growing up and change. I consider myself a star— also beautiful but only from far away. Up close, you see that I’m dead. However, stars are “born” in nebulas. Before I met you, and I mean really met you, I was lost. I didn’t have a clue what to do with my life. Then, you changed that. You helped me feel normal again, if only for a short time. Remember the arcade? I hadn’t ever felt that alive.

Though we don’t have a future, we do have a past. We’ve laughed and cried together. I happen to find this nice. The future is a scary place full of many uncertainties; the past is forever. No one can ever take away our memories. Whenever you miss me or feel sad, think of those days. Don’t let them fade into nothingness. Keep them alive and I’ll never truly die. It’s like when people say that you’re never truly dead until you’re forgotten. I believe in that.

I don’t know what you’re going to do with your future. Maybe you’ll become someone who studies cancer or a father. Whatever you do, know that I support you all the way. I do ask one thing of you: live. I don’t mean “stay alive”, I mean live. Live each day as if it’s your last. Leave behind no regrets. Cause chaos, save people, party, enjoy yourself. Just live! That’s my one regret. I spent all my time in self-pity and the piano when I could have been just forgetting my sickness and living. You don’t have to do this!

Don’t let my legacy die and yours stop from existing.

Love, Izuku Midoriya  

https://youtu.be/Wpv-vGScrvU

#boku-no-secret-santa #bakudeku