What would you do if someone broke into your house? Would you scream? Would you fight? Would you run? What if you couldn't run? What if you could barely fight? Would you piss your pants? Would you cry? Would you pray?
"It's the face, isn't it?" The man named 'Dabi' asked, leaning forward and scratching his purplish chin. "Too terrifying for you?" His crystal colored eyes glimmered the brightest of blues, twinkling with a certain kind of darkness, a familiar singe of insanity that was almost inhumane. "What's wrong, Smokey?" He cooed, reaching for me. His fingers brushed against my cheek making my stomach churn as his touch gently trailed down my face, tilting my chin upwards so our gazes would lock."Cat got your tongue?" I could feel the water crease my eyes as I fear settled into my skin like poison. Why do things always seem to happen to me? The kind of things that make or break a person. Why am I constantly being tested by fate? I shut my eyes, scrunching my nose up, driving out the sound of my pounding heartbeat that was consuming my eardrums.
Fight or Flight.
A response of the sympathetic nervous system to a stressful event, in which the body prepares to fight or flee.
And well.
I can't run.
I yanked away from his touch, opening my mouth and clamping down on his pointer and middle finger as hard as I could. Before the taste of him could settle on my tongue, Dabi yanked his hand up to his face, inspecting the bite mark I gave him, giving me a moments time to gather my thoughts and come up with some kind of plan.
Plan A: I scream at the top of my lungs, hoping that maybe some neighbors hear, whilst making a beeline for the door.
Problems: Dabi is a man of taller physique, his body is blocking off the entire doorway for someone like me, who is in a wheelchair. I won't even make it to the doorknob.
Plan B: I make a dash for a weapon. Being in a pro heroes apartment there are many tools and weapons laying around. Regardless of Shota's playthings, the kitchen is not too far from me and I know there are plenty of knives I can use there. A bit inconvenient, but if I fight him off with it I'm guaranteed his DNA for the police, and an injured man is less likely to completely whatever mission his heart is set out on.
Problems: Being the kind of hero Shota is the tools he has are less than perfect and locked away in a secure place that would take me more than seconds to get to. The kitchen knife was my best bet and it wasn't ideal. I feel like if I do any serious damage to him, he will start to react like a injured animal with its back against the wall. Nothing is more dangerous than that.
Plan C: Call for help.
Problems: My laptop has already shut down, rendering it useless because the power up time is extensively long. My cellphone is across the table, reaching for it will be a pain, I'd probably have to dive onto the table to get to it fast enough, even if I do that the unlocking process will probably take too long and he will snatch it away before I have a chance.
Plan B seems like my best option.
I flipped myself around, pushing my wheelchair towards the kitchen of Shota's apartment. I need to get my hands on one of the knives beside the stove. A small pang of fear shot through my chest as I thought back to the way his lips curved when saying the word, 'Oniichan'. I can only imagine the perverse things he wants with me. Between that and my inability to defend myself, I'm at a big disadvantage.
"Where you going, imouto-san*?" I heard Dabi snicker, his hand wrapping around the back of my wheelchair, stopping my movements before balling up the back of shirt in his fist and tossing me to the floor aheaad. I gasped, being sent flying out of my chair and headfirst into the kitchen cabinets below. I tried to break my fall with my hands, but my face still managed to slam into the wooden doors, a burning pain pulsing through my nose. It hurt. I could feel my eyes water as I groaned, pulling myself to face the man who had already advanced closer to me with his hands shoved in his pockets. It hurt. "I didn't want to do that." He sighed, watching me as I reached up, grabbing the edge of the counter I was smashed into. I can't give up, I can't give in now. "Can't you be a little nicer to your Oniichan?" He hissed behind me, a spiral of blue flames were hurled forward, crashing into the wooden cabinets around me. I screamed, I finally screamed, losing my grip on the counter and falling back down to the ground. I scrambled to press my back against the wall, tears now welling in my eyes as I finally accepted the fact that I couldn't do anything. That playing hero with Shota was just that. I was playing. Harbinger isn't a hero, I was a fool to think I could even become something like that. I can't even protect myself. Not without my legs. "Now that I have your attention.."
"Who are you?" I blurted out, my voice cracking at the ends of my words. I can keep him talking, I can stall. This is now my only option. "What do you want?"
"You already know who I am, (y/n)."
"I don't-."
"Say imouto-san*, don't you ever wonder how your mom died?" He asked, scratching the back of his head. What? My eyes widened at the mention of my mother. Why is this random guy, who broke into my house, asking me if I know how my mom died? I do know how she died. I killed her. Didn't I? Why would he imply anything else? Dabi kneeled down across from me, a sinister smile playing on his burnt lips. "The truth will set you free." He hummed, extending a hand for me to take. I blinked away the tears, staring up at the man and suddenly captivated by what he had to say.
"W-what?" I stuttered.
"All you gotta do is come with me and I will explain everything." He smiled gently, his scary features softening as he tilted is head. What does he know that I don't? And how far am I willing to go to find that out? How does he even know about my mom? My lips trembled as I felt my eyebrows furrow together in fear, no, in desperation. I want to know. I need to know. I rose a dainty hand, almost daring to place it in his as I began to forget all about Shota, about my life here. Standing on the brink of throwing it all away over some possibility, some fucking shot in the dark that maybe this guy knows something about the person I hurt the most.
Spark.
The tiniest feeling shot through my body. Something I would never notice if I hadn't been immobile for months at a time. An audible gasp escaped me as I pressed my palms against the tiled floor, pushing up with all my might as Dabi watched intently. Is it fate? Is the god of this world finally giving back to me? Slowly, weakly, the soles of my feet moved as they should. Making it so I could stand. So I could walk. My legs shook underneath my own weight as I rested my hands on the counter to help hold myself up. I'm standing. I'm actually standing. I let out a sob, tears scrolling down my cheeks as I reached out, hastily pulling a knife out from Shota's kitchen set and managing to turn myself back around, so I was facing my attacker. But the battle isn't over yet. My right leg gave out a bit, causing me to stumble and catch myself again. Dabi smirked as he watched me stand for the first time in months. The weight and pressure a bit too much for my newly working legs. I drew in a sharp breath, my lips quivering as I let out a sigh.
"Get out." I said shakily, pointing the tip of my knife at Dabi. He smiled widely, extending his fingers forward to touch me.
"C'mon (y/n), is that anyway to treat your own blood?" He said, his voice was smooth like aged whiskey but hasty sounding, kind of like how someone sounds when they're scared. I sliced forward, my blade catching his skin, opening a wound. His eyes widened as he retracted his palm to inspect the damage.
"Don't touch me." I growled, still leaning against the kitchen counter desperately. Dabi let out a small chuckle under his breath, running his free hand through his hair.
"You sure are like your mom." He snorted, making that sickening feeling return to my stomach."When she had it all together, that is." All together? What does that mean? How does he know my mother? I pursed my lips together, my eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. I shook my head, finally working up the nerve to ask.
"What-"
Before I could even get a handle on my words, the front door was kicked down and Shota stood in the doorway, panting with panic livid in his eyes.
"(Y/n)!" He shouted. Relief. Everything inside me crumbled, my strength, my determination, my front. My legs gave out and I went crashing into the ground below letting out a horrific sounding sob. Shota was here. He made it in time. I'm still alive.
"You're a bit early." Dabi sighed, turning towards Shota. Shota didn't hesitate, his capture weapons shooting out as his hair gracefully rose. The straps of his scarf wrapped around Dabi, strangely causing him to physically fall apart. Dabi was melting into mud and muck before our very eyes. "Looks like I'm out of time." He managed to say as his skin slipped down his face turning his gaze back to me. His crystal blue eyes radiating brightly. "Till we meet again, imouto-san*."
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*imouto-san: little sister in Japanese / at least that's what sources on google said, please correct me if I'm wrong!
- Also, thank you for 50k! Reading your comments makes me so happy, I'm so glad I've given you all something worthy of being enjoyable to your tastes :)
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Fanfiction"...we both want the same thing." "Which is?" "A distraction."
