COntRol

16

-ARC TWO-

⚡COntRol⚡
Chapter 16

Three months before...
[Kaminari's POV]

I slowly slip into consciousness. There wasn't much to it. Nothing interesting that had happened.

This was probably the calmest I've felt in a while. As if I had no problems, no pain and no care for anything. Or maybe calm isn't the right word for it.

Dead.

That's how I felt. Like I no longer mattered. Like I was fading away; forgotten; invisible.

I still remember what happened, and where this all started. Kirishima - the boy who I love. But none of the pain mattered to me. All that did matter was his kindness, and his laughter and smiles and how perfect and amazing and beautiful he is. 

It was then only that I began to think - is this what love really feels like?

I've read novels and watched movies plenty enough times to know that romance always ends in heartbreaks and a vortex of pain, but the chords played that leads up to it are what I tend to ignore. Maybe that's what love actually is? Maybe love is what I'm feeling - seeing Kirishima in a different light and cherishing every moment I've spent with him in the past, and memorising his perfections. He is... the most perfect person to exist.

Yet, at the same time, I felt no purpose for myself. I had no reason to exist. My existence, alone, made no impact to anyone.

I know what I thought of was wrong. But the more I think about it, the more I'm swayed to believe that it's the truth.

My quirk is out of control: I can't deny it, can't stop it, can't hide it. That alone is a clear truth. No time for lies, Denki. I'm worse than useless, without a working quirk and without a smart-enough brain.

Even Mineta is smarter than me - I really am the underdog of Class 1-A.

I want to get better. I want to get back on my feet and make this pain go away, return back to normal as if nothing happened. Work hard and get rewarded with good grades, some good recommendations and opportunities at becoming a side kick, or maybe work for an agency as a pro hero.

But, now, those all look like dreams.

Dreams that remain behind drawn eyelids.

I've accepted defeat, giving up too easily. I know its cowardly, but I had no energy left.

I'm so... tired...

The first thing I notice is the poster above me, one I had failed to notice before. It was placed right beside the clock that was too fuzzy to read, its corners peeling off from the wall, the red colour emphasising the writing in white. Judging by the boldness and colour scheme, it was probably another "PLUS ULTRA" poster. Maybe, if I had more will, power and energy, those words would be held closer to my heart.

I then notice the IV drip, this time attached further up my arm. For some reason, an uncomfortable crawling from around where the needle entered my bloodstream made me yank it out, the life-saving liquids spilling across the floor. It was selfish, to waste such vital fluid, but even this served it a better purpose.

Only when I looked at the clearer-looking clock had I noticed it was around 4am in the morning. I was probably knocked out for a while, which explained my throbbing headache, and there was only a scarce amount of light illuminating the surroundings. The curtains were closed but, through the small gaps, orange sunlight still leaks through, washing the infirmary with a soft tint. I wish I could call it hope, or a warmth to the cold, but all I could think of were the foreboding shivers prickling up my spine.