Chapter 8. Try me

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I darted up from the suffocating covers sprawled across my bed. Panting heavily, the back of my hand swiped across my forehead, the soft skin meeting a pool of sweat now cascading down the side of my face. My body was burning, heating up to an insane amount and sweating profusely. Timidly, I lifted the duvet to find a puddle of transparent slick engulfing the surface between my legs. I groaned.

Oh, come on!

BEEP BEEP

I growled, both flustered and annoyed at myself.

BEEP BEE-

My fist crashed down upon the annoyance of the alarm clock, smashing it into mere fragments of its former state.

I fucking hate heats.

"Y/N!" Came a call from what I assumed was downstairs. I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, yeah... I'm coming, I'm coming. shut up already." I mumbled to nobody in particular.
"Y/N!"
"OK, OK, I'M COMING!" I slided off the side of the bed, tumbling onto the floor before rising to my feet with the support of my wardrobe. I shuffled over to the bathroom, and popped two small, pink pills into my mouth; the same ones Recovery Girl had prescribed to me the day before.

After thoroughly cleaning myself, I threw on a new, oversized band shirt, some pants and glanced over at the ruined bed stationed to the side of my room.

Nah. I ain't dealing with that shit this early in the morning.

Sleepily rubbing my eyes, I ignored the embarrassing mess and trudged downstairs and into the kitchen.
"Good morning, caveman. I see you've finally decided to join us." Mom smirked in my direction, snickering at the bed-head I had assembled in my sleep.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever - and it's cavewoman by the way." I grumbled. She just giggled at my comment and gestured to a plate of toast on the table and a warm mug of f/d. I tiredly strolled over to my seat and plonked myself down upon the wooden chair. Immediately, my face planted onto the dining table and I heard my mother chuckling from the kitchen. I groaned.
"I hate mornings." My words were muffled in the solid birch of the table but mom still seemed to piece together the incoherent sentences.
"Oh, I know honey. You make that quite obvious every day."
"Ugh. I don't even care anymore..."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't."
"Y/n yes, you do."
"I really don't."
"What are you arguing about?" Izuku had butted into the little back and forth me and mom had been throwing about the room. He had said it adorably, standing tiredly in the kitchen doorway and cutely rubbing his eyes of any remaining sleep.
"Good morning, Izuku." Mom hugged him.
"Favouritism... mornin', Izu." I mumbled. Mom simply smirked at me while Izuku took a seat beside me. I was startled at first when I felt something heavy laying on my shoulder. Izuku had lay his head on me; I just let him stay like that.
"Tired?" He nodded into my shirt and I chuckled, ruffling his hair with my free hand, the other lifting my cup to meet my lips. Mom had also given Izuku breakfast but he didn't touch it - buttered toast with jam.

He hates jam...

"Hey, you want some of mine instead?" I questioned my brother quietly so mom would not hear. Again, he nodded his head. "Here."
I pushed the plate of plain buttered toast in his direction to which he slowly took a bite, then proceeding to bury his face a second time into my shoulder.
"Not hungry?" A muffled groan was all I got as a reply. I played with his messy forest of  hair, tangling the soft, curly strands between my fingers. I chuckled lightly at his serene expression. "Okay, come on we have to get changed, Izu." He didn't budge. "Izu?" Not even a twitch. I sighed, rising from my seat and pulling the freckled boy up with me. I practically dragged him back upstairs and when he opted to following me even close to my room, I gently shoved him away.
"Trust me. You don't wanna see what's in there right now." He looked confused for a second before clinging to my arm again. "Izuku, I'm serious... you really, really don't. Izuku? Izu, what are you-?"
He pushed past me into the room and just stood there.

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