All My White Lies | bnha

prologue

THE HOUSE WAS COLD. It always was. Dimly-lit, tragically sad, I swear if you stood from a distance in the driveway the doors would shape a frowny smile. The window eyes would frost over with tears and stare at you as if you could solve its problem. However, it didn't help to know that it was beyond saving.

Both it and the people that lived in it.

The frown-door clicked open when I put in the key, the mahogany wood flicking back as it created an eerie squeaking noise when it began to swing. Dad looked up, eyes flitting towards me with disinterest before they dropped back down to the book in his lap. I had no idea what he was reading this time.

It always seemed like the same red-paperback novel was set in between his knees like he believed that rereading the same book over and over would somehow keep himself in a time loop. I guess it was easier to get stuck between pages than remember your wife and son.

However, I preferred a disinterested parent. At least he left me alone. "The mail came in," There was a squeak at the stairs as if the wood had stopped to yelp when my mom's footsteps trailed down towards me. Her lips were pursed with annoyance, eyes frozen in an almost stale expression.

She wanted to seem indifferent like Dad. That would never work. "Your acceptance letter," The venom in her voice was abhorrently clear and I didn't say anything, kicking off my shoes silently to the side. "You didn't tell me you applied to Yuuei." I looked back at her, adjusting the grip on my backpack.

"I didn't see the point. If I told you I did, you'd be disappointed anyway."

"You're not good enough for Yuuei, I told you that."

"I'm not doing it for you," I snapped, my tongue clicking against the roof of my mouth. As soon as my sneakers hit the floor, I stepped towards my room, pacing up the stairs and heading into my bedroom. My parents were vile and neglectful, but they weren't intrusive; they wouldn't waste their energy on me like that.

That's how I knew the letter would be untouched on my desk. I ripped it open with my bare hands, reading it over. Congratulations! We are happy to. . . I didn't bother reading the rest. "Are you happy now? You got what you wanted. You can leave this stupid family and take that godforsaken thing with you."

I hadn't even noticed she was idled up against my bedroom door, arms crossed in anger as if I hadn't just been accepted into one of the most prestigious hero schools of all time. "They'll kick you out, you know? Your quirk, you lack talent; they want a real hero candidate."

I ignored her words at first, sliding the letter out of her sight into a more safe area of my desk. I knew she wouldn't touch it anyway; she was too prideful to snoop through my things. I looked at her, lips pursed. The tension between her muscles, her furrowed brows; it looked like she was closing in on herself.

That if she distorted just a little more she'd disappear with a little 'pop'.

"Why would I listen to you?"

"Because I'm your mother,"

As if that title gave her any validation.

I looked over my shoulder blankly, my mouth running over the dried ink that still stuck to the back of my teeth. "You always make me feel like I'm not good enough," I swallowed hard, hoping that the blackberry juice taste washes away the feeling of my words choking up in my throat.

"Kioshi never did."