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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— THE NEWS STATIONS blared reports about last night's events, dubbing it as 'the kamino incident' or the 'kamino nightmare.'
i breathed slowly, focusing my eyes on the ground.
izuku wore a worried expression all the way to the police station, clutching my clothes or my hand like it was a lifeline, as if i'd somehow bring me an ounce of comfort. or, like i'd disappear if he let go. in another situation, i'd find it sweet, but now it just felt annoying.
"syd," he murmured, holding his hand out as i stepped back, "maybe they'll let me go with you—?"
shaking my head, i push izuku's hand to his chest. "i'll see you later."
izuku opens his mouth to respond, but the police officers quickly step between us to push me towards the entrance.
i let them throw an arm around my back, a loose grip on my elbow as bakugo and i walked. i was too tired and my neck hurt too much to shoot one last glance back at our classmates.
the police station, located farther inside yokohama city, was tucked discreetly off the road. we were tugged through the lobby, the distant stares of other civilians burning into my back as the officers whispered to each other and the receptionists turned around to look at us. their conversations brushed past me.
not long after we'd walked farther into the facility, bakugo was whisked away by a different pair of officers.
at the end of a long and chilly hallway, a door clicked open, and i was immediately met with more cool fluorescent lights— the kind that made my head spin. the room resembled the place you'd sit in inside a doctor's office. it was small, with short counters on one wall, nearby a stadiometer and a scale.
nose scrunching, i have to blink several times before my vision clears, looking around apprehensively. why do they have a place like this inside a police station?
the officer gestured to a chair— metal, with a white plastic seat and backing.
i sunk into it, wincing at the hard plastic as the officer stands arms-crossed in the corner of the room.
then, a woman walked inside, flashing me a kind smile.
she set her bag down on the counter shuffled around the cabinets for first-aid supplies, before pulling something out of the bag and turning her body to face me. twisting the bright orange cap of a drink, the soft crack of it separating from the tamper band filled the silence before she handed it to me.
