#1 - Life's Not Fair(Was It Ever?)

Comfort From The Heart

Miyo wobbled uneasily on his legs, which were only just completing the reforming process from overusing his quirk, as he slowly made his way to the bar. He hasn't been feeling all that great since the final exams, so he's decided to stop by the bar for the weekend.

He passes through a large crowd waiting outside a nightclub, where most people are slurring their words, stumbling, and laughing uncontrollably already. The smell of vomit and alcohol has Miyo scrunching up his nose in disgust.

Neon signs cast blinding rays of colourful lights down onto the road and footpath.

Miyo keeps his head down as he walks, avoiding eye contact with everyone waiting impatiently to get inside the nightclub. He knows all too well how alcohol can affect someone's behaviour and actions.

His mind fogs over with memories of yelling, broken bottles, pain, and his father's heavy hands. His skin on his back tingles uncomfortably under his jumper.

His arms wrap around himself as he turns another corner, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as he keeps walking down the footpath.

His chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath, shaking off the feeling and continuing on his way, but the memories stay relentless even as Ao wraps himself around his neck, trying to offer any type of comfort.

He remembers his mother pleading with her husband to stop and her sobbing as she kissed his wounds better after his drunken father stormed out of their apartment or finally passed out on the sofa.

He remembers being 8 years old, feeling scared and alone as he cowered in the corner while his father ranted and raved, a bottle in one hand and a belt in the other as he towered over his shivering form.

Ao clenches around Miyo's throat tighter as his fear rises, and he quickens his pace, unable to push away the feeling of terror that had been etched in his memory, feeling trapped inside his head.

He desperately wishes he could just forget about it all, but he knows that won't happen—not with the physical reminders covering his body, the ridiculous habits he'll never be able to break, and the nightmares that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Blood, screaming, shouting, pain, harsh hands, the hollow voice of his mother, the boiling electricity forcing its way throughout his nervous system—

Arms shaking, Miyo finds himself standing in the same spot, unable to take another step. He's only a street or two away from the bar, yet he can't move. His feet feel like they've been glued to the ground beneath him, his arms twitch in their places around his shivering body, and his vision is all foggy.

He should have taken a jacket with him.

It's already late at night, and the temperature has dropped drastically, even though it's only the beginning of summer. His chest shudders as he takes a shallow breath; he should have waited until tomorrow to visit the bar.

He blinks, a hand grabs his elbow, and before he knows it, he's being dragged into an alleyway, down one street, and finally, not so gently, shoved onto a rickety chair in a dimly lit room. 

The air in his lungs is forced out as he lands on the hard, creaking wood and his head sags like an old forgotten rag doll. Once he gathers himself, he looks up; his pupils dilate in fear as his father reaches for him with a beer bottle in hand.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, you little demon; lucky me that your mother can't intervene anymore, huh? I'll show you, " his father slurs as he takes a swig from the bottle, "who's in charge here," he growls, lightning lighting up around his hands and arms, the beer bottle being tossed carelessly to the floor and the glass shattering upon impact. The boy trembles and tries to back away, feeling small and helpless under his father's gaze.