Where did you go wrong? How could you have ever known?
Nobody saw this coming. No one truly did. You never thought they would be possessive, obsessive.
But really, to them, all that matters is that you're in their arms at the end of the day, becaus...
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"If you keep on getting injured dear, you're not going to make it far as a hero."
A steaming mug of hot tea and a small pack of crackers are placed in front of you, all on top of a dull gray tray. The school healer, known as Recovery Girl, had been taking care of you after you carelessly sprinted in to help the elderly civilian when completing a task for your Provisional Hero License. The effects of your quirk had left you aching all over and exhasuted, nearly collapsing in front of everyone.
"I know," shaky hands reach for the crackers, tearing the plastic wrap open to reveal the graham biscuits. Bruised fingers delicately pick up the crunchy snacks, quivering as they move the sapid sweet treat to your lips. "My body moved on its own. I saw someone in danger and rushed in headfirst."
Chomping down onto the flaky delight, a raptured sigh escapes your mouth at the feeling of food filling your empty gut and famished body. The healer smiles softly at the sight of your satisfaction, a tired chortle leaving her throat.
"I can only do so much for you before damage becomes irreversible. You're lucky you didn't severely damage anything, there's just some minor strains," she lectures, waddling over to the gray chair beside your bed. Turning to the face the computer, she finishes, "Anymore damages to those muscles and bones of yours and you'll be out for months. Your quirk is a lethal one to the receivers, but also to yourself."
A small nod is the only response you give, a solemn look crossing your countenance. Your quirk had a lot of potential, but it was dangerous and deadly. One wrong move and you could severely harm yourself or others.
Distant memories of being constantly monitored as a child crossed your mind, the pitiful look your parents gave you as they helplessly watched officials inform you that you would have to constantly wear a quirk-cancelling bracelet until you managed to gain complete control over it. The days you had spent laying down in your bed, staring up at your ceiling in despair slipped between the cracks of your mind, resurfacing as it occasionally did.
The memories were almost tangible; you could picture your old room now, the minimal decorating and bland gray walls. The sterile white ceiling fan that would spin for countless hours, the incessant dinging of the cheap plastic cord against the likewise fan panels. The gut-wrenching feeling of hopelessness that resided in your stomach and plagued your bloodstream like a festering disease.
If you closed your eyes, you knew you could just—
"You should drink your tea before it gets cold," an unfamiliar voice pierces its way past your mental blockage, penetrating past your painful thoughts. Your head snaps up towards the direction of where the noise came, your startled eyes meeting dull gray and icy blue ones.
