𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇 || ʜᴀᴡᴋꜱ

18➟ In which I am proud.

   Have you ever wanted to see what was going on in a narcissist's head? Well, I have.

It was one of the worst things I've ever done in my life.

My quirk allowed me to latch onto people's nightmares, their biggest fears. Sometimes people had thousands- it was like a twisted pick and mix. A little arachnophobia, a scoop of claustrophobia, oh! coulrophobia, classic, and, maybe if I'm lucky, a bit of thalassophobia.

Keigo Takami's nightmares were nothing like that.

I shouldn't say I was surprised, but I have to be honest, part of me thought that I was being overdramatic when I saw what the guy was scared of.

On the surface, there was a fear of losing popularity. There was no doubt that he cared about his fame, but that wasn't something I could easily manipulate to scare the guy and make him back down. Not enough of a fear of it either- the illusion would probably look like a single fangirl telling him that she didn't like him anymore. Not very scary personally, maybe to Hawks, but I doubt it.

Under that, was quite a bit of anthropophobia, or, as it's more commonly known as 'fear of rejection'. Rejection from parental figures, fans, friends, lovers. But again, there was still so little of it at that moment, there wasn't much I could do with it.

It was under that, that I found what I was looking for. Part of going through with it was down to my dislike toward him at that moment. A lot of my mind was clouded by the fact that I'd beaten him at something. I'd found one of his biggest fears that I could manipulate to my advantage- and I was proud at that moment.

The thing about my quirk was that it allowed me to see exactly what was happening- everything in its beautiful, gruesome glory.

Sometimes it was enough to give me nightmares.

But after all that time, I'd forgotten about that.

All I had to do was picture it, and I knew it had worked when I saw his silhouette begin to fall.

It started off as a kind of silent panic. A look behind him, a stray hand reaching out behind him, trying to grab onto something that wasn't there.

"I'm guessing you got him?" Delphi was back in my head with a front-row seat to the show, "Is your quirk okay?"

"Of course it is," I smirked, sparks of victory sizzling inside of me.

That's when I remembered that I could see what my victim was seeing.

It wasn't bloody at first, but that's because I only looked in the first few seconds. The blood started to fall like a bloody waterfall. There was no way there could have ever been that much in reality, but it didn't feel like that.

Hawks began to spiral, holding himself up with one wing as the other lay limp, the vermillion of his wings burning brighter than ever before, drowned in this excess of red on the floor. The bone that had once connected the feathers to his back twitched, like a drowning fish, caught on a hook whilst the blood continued to spout out of the open wound on his back.

The lines of the HSPC logo that wrapped around his shirt like golden ropes were now encrusted with rubies; rubies that kept on multiplying and falling from the sky like some contaminated rainfall.

He visibly struggled to keep himself in the air, but he was thrown off by the lack of equilibrium on his back, the spiralling speeding up and up and up, the look on his face becoming more panicked with each second. His remaining wing dragged above him, slowing his descent ever-so-slightly.

"[N/N] he's going to hit the ground, you can stop now."

You can't if you don't want to.