𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐘.
(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand, or suddenly become conscious of something that is important to you.
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 - sydney suzuki learns that home can be a person, too.
✧.* i. midoriya / original chara...
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- WHEN I OPEN my eyes, i see white.
pain shoots through my skull, the aching in my bones becoming all too apparent the more i adjust to consciousness.
the first thing that comes back to me is that i'm strapped to a metal chair. my hands are captured, sweat pooling at my wrists as the metal digs into the clammy skin. a strap is wrapped around mine and bakugo's waists, keeping the backs of our chairs pressed together, and metal cuffs secure my ankles to the front legs of the chair.
my pupils dilate under the dim light, the pressure in my head fading and quickly replaced by a burn in my stomach- my refusal for the league's food coming back to bite me in the ass.
i look down to the pressure at my shoulder, a clean split on the outer side of the sleeve where toga's knife had dug into the fabric and sliced the muscle. under the split, a clean white bandage wrapped over where the wound would be. the sleeve was stained a rusty brown with dried blood.
my skin tingled with numbness as i wiggled my toes from inside my sneakers, wincing at the sudden burn.
worry swirls in my gut, twisting like a knife as i think about izuku's injuries, violet colored arms blotched with crimson, his face white as a sheet in heavy contrast to the deep red line of blood trailing from his head. he smiled at me upon arriving on shoji's back, that damn smile that struck my heart and somehow made the stabbing pain in my thigh and sting in my shoulder a lot more bearable.
i bite my lower lip, ripping the chapped skin until the taste of iron floods my tastebuds as my vision sways, becoming unnervingly focused on my breathing, my heart beating inside my chest, the sting as my teeth bite the inside of my cheek, anything that tells me i'm not dreaming.
my breath catches in my lungs, swelling them uncomfortably in such a way that makes me feel as if they'll pop like a balloon out of my chest. eyes blurring into focus, i glance around the room and reacclimatize myself with it.
it was cold. too cold. brown brick walls surrounded us- hardwood floors, a bar counter extending down the south wall, with a wide-screen tv on top of it.
the bar counter was clean, as if it had been recently wiped down, several bar stools with bright red cushions on the other side. behind it, a display with an array of bottles. by the way the light shone through some of the glass, many of them were empty- or, almost, at least.
the some of the barstools were turned, as if someone had recently slipped out of them. the cushions pressed down from when toga would prop her elbows on the wood and stare at us, occasionally giggling as she skips over to me, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear and tapping my nose when i glare weakly at her.
