All My White Lies | bnha

eleven | unsung hero

DINNER WITH NEJIRE'S MOTHER WAS AWKWARD, especially when her first instinct had been to pinch my cheeks into oblivion and scream about how it had been so long since she had last seen me. However, when she had reached over, she instantly pulled back, gasping and holding my bandaged side tenderly.

Yui Hado was always a bit of a hero, a generous woman who saved people day and night within the constraints of a hospital. She'd recognize the signs of abuse within seconds, but she opted to keep her mouth shut. Not for my preferences, but for my safety. It would hurt more to speak on it than to act like it didn't exist.

Ignorance is bliss.

That's why I wasn't surprised when she didn't question me. She simply pursed her lips in understanding while listening to her daughter's explanation before settling with us at the table for dinner. "We do have a guest room, Y/n," I looked up from my plate that I had been messing with. Chunks of potato and carrot doused in curry buried within heaps of rice.

Nejire had made sure to make my favorite. I looked at her and then at her mom, the blue-haired girl jutting her knee against mine, as if urging me to answer. Maybe to accept. "No, it's alright," I shook my head, stabbing at the potato more than I should've been. "I can handle it."

I lied straight through my teeth; the first of many. Yui looked me up and down briefly, assessing me before turning back to her food. "Alright, well if you ever need anything," Her words trailed off, fruitless. I always listened, but never took it to heart. Nejire slightly shook her head in her mother's direction.

She knew I'd decline, that I'd rather die amongst a cold sidewalk than give into someone's hospitality. I wasn't sure what was more of a curse then, my pride or my concern over feeling like a burden. Her phone rang against the table and Nejire's mother excused herself, quickly taking it and walking upstairs.

I stabbed at my potato some more before shoveling a spoonful into my mouth. Nejire was gazing at me, trying to understand me in the same way that her mother was. "Am I really that obvious? You two just know I'll always reject your offer?" I mused, only speaking after swallowing.

Nejire looked taken aback, lips parted in slight awe as her brows knitted together, confusion etching her features. "You're not obvious. You're just. . . reserved," She replied. I could tell it still bothered her. The way her fingers twitched, the subtle uptick of her upper lip, the movement of her eyes drifting back to her half-finished plate.

"Does it annoy you?"

Nejire paused, contemplating her answer. "To be honest, yeah," She poked her fork against a chunk of carrot, swerving it across her plate and coating it with the curry. "But I'd do anything for you. And if being patient is part of it, I won't mind." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

And I knew this wasn't just an answer.

It was a confession.

I stared at her, now left speechless. "Besides, you're the first person that I've ever talked to that's like this," Nejire remarked. She didn't have to finish her sentence for me to know what she was going to continue with. The emo, artist, laidback type. She grinned at me as if sensing that I already knew.

That's what was especially terrifying; I already knew. I didn't want to forget; I wanted her here, for gravity to tug us closer until there was no space left. My leg subtly brushed against hers, a pink flush dusting her cheeks at my action. Our conversation fell apart quickly, however, when her mother strode back into the room.

She looked tired, thin lips set in a slight frown. "Sorry, work," She excused, slumping into her seat. The room was flooded with light yet it seemed like someone had stolen all of the light from her eyes. She had the expression of someone who had just seen the reaper, scythe and all as it robbed yet another person.