BNHA || white lie

16

Aaron had stood up suddenly, his chair pushed out behind him. He looked irritated. "I have to use to restroom," your gray-haired friend mumbled before stalking away, leaving behind a confused you and suddenly sullen parents.

"Maybe we shouldn't have brought it up," his mother said with a sigh, picking at her plate. Her husband nodded in agreement, disappointed.

"You mean heroes?" you asked carefully. "Does Aaron have something against them?" If so, you wanted to reassure him it was alright. You did too, after all, so you didn't know why he would be shy about it.

His parents exchanged glances. "He's embarrassed," his father spoke. "We're actually sidekicks, have been ever since we graduated college. We take the hero license registration exam every year, but we have yet to pass it."

"I think it's actually discouraged him a bit," his mother added, saddened. "He thinks that if we couldn't do it, how could he? I try to tell him time and time again just to try, but. . ." She sighed. "Aaron's surrounded by people with unique and powerful Quirks. To become a hero you need a strong and flashy individuality. It's just a fact."

From the other room, lying on her bed, Athena let out a tiny whine. Not knowing what to say, you took another bite of your dinner, the meat cold and stringy from being left out too long.

.

.

.

You got a call one day, while you were lounging at home with Akiko. It was one of your mentors, a pro-hero called Storm. His Quirk was aerokinesis. His voice, rasped with age, was frantic.

"[Name]," he asked quickly. "Where are you?"

You were just as quick to answer, telling him you were at home.

"That's good," he sighed in relief. "Come as fast as you can to the address I'm going to text you. There's been a situation. A group of villains has attacked a local warehouse and taken all workers hostage. We were able to help most of the workers and apprehended all but one villain. He has two of the hostages still."

You were immediately up, scrambling for your hero costume. Akiko could sense the tense atmosphere and quickly helped you into it, silent with apprehension.

"I'll be there soon, sir. What do you need me to do?"

The other end was quiet. You could hear voices in the background, but none were Storm's. "Sir?"

He finally spoke up. "I'm not sure myself," he admitted quietly, his voice almost guilty. You wondered why. "We just need to you come here. We'll figure it out when you do."

You stopped pulling on your large sleeve. "What do you mean? Why do you even need me to go there?"

"I wish I knew," Storm replied. You furrowed your brow. "That's the thing. The villain inside. . .he's asking for you to save them, [Name]. No one else."

You didn't say anything in return, not for a while. Instead you turned to Akiko, and smiled in hopes to ease her worried blue eyes.

"You'll be okay?" she whispered.

You can only hope.

"Tell me everything when you get back," she told you. You smiled.

"Everything," you promised, and gave her hands a soft squeeze. You brought your phone back up to your ears, relieved to see Storm still on the line.

"I'm on my way," you murmured.

.

.

.

The heroes told you it would be easy. Quick, just get in, get the hostages, get out. The heroes would do the rest, the heroes who had trained you. The heroes, who had dealt with situations like this countless times. The heroes, who you had foolishly trusted.

It was supposed to be simple. To be nothing. That's what the heroes said, before you went in, reassured by their words and plastic encouragement.

(But things don't always seem to go as they are supposed to, you came to learn. You were never supposed to become a hero, but you did. You were never supposed to have a Quirk, but you did. He was never supposed to be there, but he was, and your entire life fell apart.)

It was hard for you to speak. Hard to even register anything, really. You wondered, briefly, if maybe it was just a strangely elaborate dream, only a fantasy, because everything at that moment seemed so surreal and bizarre that you couldn't find any other way to explain it.

But the cold metal on the back of your head, the terrified looks on the two hostages before you, the bloodstains on the cold cement floor, they were all too real. Reality is cruel, you decided, and suddenly you wanted more than anything for him to just pull the trigger and let you sleep, let you live an eternal dream where everything went as it was supposed to. Where you didn't have to carry your own world anymore. Where you were no longer Atlas, only [Name], and nothing more.

He told you to turn around, and you did, every move robotic and painful. Your head throbbed with an incoming headache, but it was ignored.

You broke down when you saw his horns. Three on his left, one on his right. So achingly familiar.

"Aaron," you sobbed, "why?"

(You never really believed in fate before, but after everything it suddenly occurred to you that perhaps things were supposed to be this way. Maybe your life wasn't really yours, every choice predetermined and intertwined with everyone else's, every movement and breath planned and set, and the thought brought you a sick sense of comfort. Your world wasn't really your weight to carry, in the end. It was the future's.)

Reality is cruel, you decided, but fate is crueler.