.・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・．
.・゜-: ✧ :- -: ✧ :-゜・．
but you didn't get the opportunity to tell izuku. it seemed like anytime you had the chance, something or someone would get in your way.
finally, a week had passed with you still trying to get the boy's attention. it wasn't until the end of the day on friday that you actually got some time alone with him.
"hey izuku, can i talk to you?"
you watched as a flicker of fear flashed in his eyes. but it left as quickly as it came. "yeah, what is it?"
you looked around the classroom. class had just ended and no one was really listening to you, in reality, you could've just told him then and there. but you decided that when telling him something important like this, it would be best to say it in a private setting. "can we talk somewhere els–"
"DEKU."
and even though katsuki wasn't talking to you, both you and izuku felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "hey, kacchan... what's up?"
"you and i, we're training. now."
"excuse you." you moved from behind izuku who was covering you. "we're having a conversation?"
katsuki didn't even acknowledge your presence and just grabbed izuku by the arm and dragged him away.
you looked at katsuk in disbeliefi. you were annoyed, but not surprised. he always did what he wanted anyway.
"i'm sorry, we'll talk later!" izuku said as his voice got quieter as he got farther.
so there you were, just standing in the back of the class being interrupted by yet another person obsessed with your boyfriend.
you groaned and walked out of the classroom.
after walking around, you decided that it would be best for you just wait in the art room for izuku until he was done training with katsuki.
you knew that he knew that he could find you here.
and once he was done, you could finally tell him what had been on your chest.
you looked around the room. here's a secret, you're really talented when it comes to art. you could paint, draw, or sculpt for hours on end.
to you, art was your biggest stress reliever. and as any good artist knows, it could also induce it from time to time.
you sat on a stool, set up a canvas, pull out your paints and begin painting till your heart's content. or until your fingers cramp up.
you didn't even notice it, but the place you've painted is familiar.
only to you, that is.
the colors of blue, white, and a light hue of yellow were splattered across the canvas. the painting looked like it was in motion.
light seemed to shine off of the portrait from the wet streaks of paint that covered the canvas.
until the painting developed into maturity, everything would appear to be splattered across the board. but every drop all had its place where it belonged in order to make the piece come to life.
you would turn away for a second to recollect yourself. and once you looked back at your art, it was complete.
and you were reliving everything that happened in that specific moment.
in that hospital room.
your canvas was a portal of those memories.
you could feel the cool breeze of the window on your face. the way the hospital gown would gently caress your skin as it mimicked the movement of your hair. you could even recall the exact moment when the anesthesia wore off. and the sharp pains from the iv, that was inserted into the vein of your left hand, coursed throughout your body.
it was all so vivid.
just seeing the painting of the hospital window in completion brought all of those feelings back.
and the only thing that would bring you back to reality was the smell of the paint, drifting off of the canvas, and into your nose.
you placed the brush down and took a step back.
"wow."
abruptly, you turned your head to the sound of the voice.
you watched as ochaco stood at the door with a tender smile on her face. "it looks like a photograph. beautiful."
you turned back to face the canvas and nodded. your voice came out meekly, as you said this to yourself. "it practically is."
ochaco walked closer to you and pulled up a chair. "can i sit?"
you gave her a look of approval and she sat down.
what you didn't know was that ochaco had a reason to come here today. she had been noticing that something was going on with you all week, and wanted to help you. because, it's what you would've done for her. "y/n, i feel like there's something you've been wanting to say all week long."
you look up at ochaco. you nod at her and that when you see it. her eyes, they're so welcoming. and a warmth, one that you haven't felt in forever, was just exerting from her.
"i'm sick."
and with those two words, tears slowly fell from your eyes. you're sick. something you knew, but refused to acknowledge.
you covered your mouth. because without it, anyone who was left inside the hallways would hear it. hear that with every breath you took, it was interrupted by the loud sobs that attempted to escape from your mouth.
as you sat there crying, soon, that warmth that you felt radiating from ochaco would now encapsulating you.
the girl sat there and she cried. she cried. and cried. and cried, with you. until you felt whole.
𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝟹 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘
"i'm sorry mister and missus l/n, but your daughter cannot be healed."
you watched as the color on your parents face drained through the soundproof glass.
earlier that day, you had coughed up blood.
from late primary school, you would have coughing fits. the fits were always nasally and congested, but never blood. still, you went to see many, many doctors, but no one could ever tell you what was going on.
many assumed that it was dust, others thought it was the result of pollen allergies.
but no matter how much your family cleaned the house. or how often you stayed inside during pollen season, the fits did not stop.
and so it got to the point where you were put on medication from 5th grade in order to minimize these fits. the medicine did work. you would have these fits less and less.
that was until your last day of secondary school.
school had finally ended and you were excited to get back home and see your results to see if you made it into ua.
you opened the envelope in your room and saw a projector of all might congratulating you.
you were so excited to the point where you thanked the holographic video over and over again. it ended but your excitement was still there and it caused you to jump up and down all throughout your room.
and then it happened. a coughing fit, which hadn't happened for months, appeared. but this one appeared to be more serious than the others.
your parents ran into your room, only to see you crouched on the floor, while desperately looking for air. all in a small puddle of blood.
frightened, they ran you over to the hospital, where they finally found out what the problem was.
tuberculosis.
the real issue was, ever since the awakening of quirks, diseases that targeted the cells have been very rare. especially in people who possessed powerful quirks, such as yourself.
as the quirk developed and grew up with the child, it would need to physically enhance the cells throughout the body to the point where it could withstand their quirk. and naturally, this caused the cell targeting diseases to no longer stand a chance.
this was the reason no doctor had been able to detect it.
from primary school, your quirk was fighting off the cells as best as it could, but the disease eventually won. and as a side effect, it caused your quirk to harm your body more than it used to.
you watched as your parents walked into the room.
they both pulled up a chair beside you. and even your dad, who was never a very touchy man, placed his hand on your shoulder.
it was gentle. and it scared you.
"y/n...you have a s-sickness..."
you looked at your mom whose voice just came out in a whisper. her eyes were glossy, by tears. "is it curable?"
with those words, she burst into tears and her palms found their way to her face.
"honey..." your dad called out to you, "...it's terminal..."
in that moment, everything stopped. you could feel absolutely nothing.
and everything.
you don't know how, but your eyes found their way over to the beautiful window. the breeze was the only thing cooling you down in the heat of the moment. "oh."
»»——⍟——««
❝Your eyes, they're like green stars...❞