bnha imagines

running with the wolves // e. kirishima; werewolf

  "we're gathered here to today to mourn the death of a wonderful soul."

you'd sat on the steps of the church with a heavy heart in the pouring rain, just a simple hoodie over your head.

"an angel who was taken from us too soon."

tears dribbled down your cheeks, small sobs racking your insides.

"they were only nineteen, with their whole life ahead of them, but god had chosen a different path for them."

there was a bitter taste on your tongue as you listened to the priest prattle on about your friend.

"while only here a short time, they'd touched the hearts of all of us here."

it was supposed to be a simple, short, and fun camping trip.

"please join us in prayer as we say goodbye to our beloved angel."

the worst that could happen was you forgot the tent and had to sleep out under the stars, or they'd forgotten the bug spray and the two of you would complain about the mosquito bites for the next week or two. not some wild beast tearing through your campsite and ripping your best friend to shreds right in front of you. not leaving you alone in a hospital for weeks as doctors attempted to heal your wounds, both mental and physical.

the church doors began to creak open, and you stood in a haste, taking a random direction down the street and hurrying away before your friend's parents could see you. they didn't blame you, they never would, but you did. you blamed yourself, and you could never forgive yourself.

especially since you became the thing that killed her.

it had been the first night out of the hospital, almost a month after the attack when you'd had the first transformation, the only transformation so far. it only made you wish even more that the beast had finished you off before fleeing as the park rangers appeared.

bones breaking and clicking back into place, your skin ripping apart and pulling back together, your body lighting itself on fire and a wave of ice coming to ease the flame. five whole hours of excruciating pain; of bones breaking, skin tearing, skin alight, and head exploding. you'd never felt so powerless, so helpless, so weak than that first transformation.

the memory made you flinch, and you shook your head to be rid of it.

down the street, you could smell the bakery on the corner, and just a little ways further the flower shop you'd worked at in high school, and one shop down from there the deli. in the opposite direction, there was the fast-food chain restaurant your friend and you used to frequent, and then the bitter old woman who lived above a pawn shop who had tomatoes growing along the porch. all of which, you could smell despite still standing a couple blocks down from each shop.

you could hear the employees in the coffee shop shit-talking customers from the back of house, and the businessman yelling at his secretary for buying the wrong gift for his wife from the firm a couple hundred feet away on the sixth floor, and the homeless man and police officer chatting down the alleyway just down a few buildings clear as day.

it was a symptom that came with the disease of turning into a beast once a month. every single sense was heightened; sight, sound, taste, touch, smell. one of the many, along with quickened healing, faster metabolism, enhanced stamina, agility, and strength.

the rain continued to pour from the sky, and you dipped into a random coffee shop to take cover. it wasn't too crowded, just a few people seated here and there. most had their laptops out, a few notebooks; they must have been college students. coming into the coffee shop to finish up assignments and studying for upcoming midterms.