BNHA || white lie

10

"[L/Name], eat lunch with us!"

Somehow, Hagakure finds you right as you leave your third period, on your way to lunch. You grimace.

". . .Sorry."

She whines, flailing her sleeves up and down. She trails behind you as you go down the stairs.

"Aw, please? Everyone in class A will be sitting with us!"

You grunt. "You're not doing too good of a job convincing me."

You leave the main building, the invisible girl right on your heels. Her pleads become white noise. When you reach the gates, you stop, and turn to address her.

"I eat lunch in the city," you tell her bluntly. "So I leave campus."

She perks up. "You do? We can do that?"

"If you have an off-campus pass, sure."

"How do I get one?" You wonder how you can tell she is sparkling despite being invisible.

"I wouldn't know," you answer, opening the gates. "I don't have one."

You leave the poor girl speechless.

Hagakure watches you close the gates behind you and pouts. "Aw, I wanted to eat some American food too~"

She turns away from the front and slouches over in defeat, dragging herself to the cafeteria dejectedly.

.

.

.

"Thank you for shopping with us!"

"You too--ah, shit. . ."

You run a hand through your messy [h/c] tresses and sigh. You know that's a memory that's going to last, something to mull and grow embarrassed over during your quiet, sleepless nights. What fun.

You had ran out of dog food, and went to buy another week's stock, having stupidly forgotten to during your last visit. The metal cans clink against each other as you walk alone along the streets of LA. As always, the sidewalk is crammed with people--businessmen, women in long coats and sunglasses, tourists, students like yourself. You bury your hands in your blazer and stare down at the cement, avoiding any possible eye contact. Cars whizz by, horns honk annoyedly at each other, someone is yelling, yelling your name--

Your name?

"Excu--excuse me! Excuse me! You--! With the [h/c] hair! A-are you [Name][L/Name], the hero?"

You halt in your steps. Inside your pockets, your fists tighten. You calmly turn around to face the speaker.

He couldn't be any older than nine--a young, innocent face with wide brown eyes. His skin is slightly tanned, and his hair is black. In his right hand is a phone, clenched tightly in his fist that is excitedly pumped at his chest, his left clasped in the grip of who seems to be his mother. His face brightens.

"It really is you! Oh my god! You--you're--!"

You smile halfheartedly.

"--Atlas!"

Murmurs from the crowd around you begin to grow. They turn to each other, talking in quick whispers--

"'Atlas'?"

"Is that a hero name? Sounds like one."

"Look at the kid. He's so excited. How cute."

You try to make your smile more genuine.

"I read about them on the news. They're a new hero. Made their debut a few weeks ago, I think."

"I saw! That was crazy. You heard about it, right? It was a hostage situation, scary one, but the mission was a total success!"