Red Like Roses // BNHA × OC //

{1} Call Me Rose

   "In the end, the hero defeats the villain and saves the day. By the final chapter, they stand victorious over all of their hardships and tribulations with unmatched triumph."

     My fingers grazed across the pages of the novel in my hand as I put the story to an end myself. I tilted my head back and let the ending set in. Despite there being numerous times the protagonist questions their own strength, no matter what, they had always finished off their heroic journey in success. It was a given that, at the end of stories, heroes would beat the villains.

    A little impractical if you ask me.

    Who decided that villains were destined to failure? Or that heroes were born to go on quests and fend off the villains? In half of these stories, the protagonist started off as an ordinary person just trying to get by. What if they never chose to go on any dangerous quests?

    Would they still be a protagonist if they decided their own destiny?

    My eyebrows twinged at the sting of a small headache. I had been awake too long to fall into any philosophical rabbit hole. I rubbed my palms over my eyes, and when I blinked them back open, I was met with the same scene as before. I was still laying on the couch of Q's living room at 1:58 in the morning.

    I was into the third or fourth month of being fostered by Professor Q. I adjusted to the change just fine; however, I found trouble falling asleep that particular night. I just couldn't relax. Every time I shut my eyes, my brain told me there was time being wasted. I tried to combat these anxieties by reading myself to sleep, but the cliche narrative I chose only had me thinking more.

    The workaholic in me had to get up and move. If I couldn't fall asleep, then I could at least make use of my time by starting Q's pot of coffee for the morning. I slumped off the couch and walked across to the kitchen and the coffee pot against the wall. I had lived in that house long enough that I didn't need to turn the lights on to start brewing. I was usually up and ready before Q, so I typically gave him a hand with his morning routine in small ways like this.

   As the quiet beeps of the machine eased me in the moment, I leaned my head against the kitchen cabinets and gently shut my eyes. My room was only a few doors down, but I knew that if I moved myself even an inch, I'd be struggling to fall back asleep for another hour. I made use of the chance to rest, unknowing of how it wouldn't last.

   Footsteps from behind my back caused me to open my eyes, feeling the hairs against my neck stand. Cautious and hesitant by my lack of sleep, I leaned my head around to the dark hallway. A breath of relief passed through my lungs while I saw no dangerous figure. Yet.

   "INTRUDER‽" Q's dramatic and frightened proclaim of danger was enough to send me jumping back, screaming, and clutching the countertop for my life. I grabbed the collar of my sleep shirt over my heart and caught my breath.

    "No! It's just me and. . ." I trailed off while glancing over the glowing, blue rod Q had burst in swinging during his jumpscare. "You thought someone was breaking in, and your weapon of defense was a fake lightsaber?" As a weapons-specialized inventor, I was disappointed.

    Q paused at my observation before he looked down and deactivated his saber. "Sure, let's call it fake." He cleared his throat before I could follow up on one of many questions. "So I'll mull over the fact you're awake at this hour, but I must say that you do seem awfully skittish this morning."

    That's because you just gave me a freaking heart attack.

    Before I could voice my blunt remark, Q continued with his own theory about my jumpiness.