Maximum Charge | MHA | Gay

004

   I'm not a villain, nor a vigilante. I am either in between at those. I'm a rogue, or many would say a runaway. Unlike those others who has a permanent home to sleep and a family to spend time with, I just wander around, seemingly living the bland life.

   Sometimes I think to myself, am I satisfied with my current life?

   Am I satisfied?

   It bothers me somehow. It feels odd to live freely each day despite those terrible experiences. There wasn't a single day where I wouldn't blame myself for doing that, for killing them.  The idea of living freely and witnessing as the sun rises down and the moon dims the night sky is nerve-racking, knowing full well that I'm responsible for something so sinful. As I live the presence of life, they remain stuck in that hellhole, and will always be. Although it concerns me, as each day passes, I slowly start to feel unbothered. I don't have the right to be comfortable in life.

   After I finally left the usual spot where I would admire the city's skyline, I decided to stroll down the roads where people would barely go, seemingly being bugged with my conscience again.

   I keep reminding myself that I deserve to be this lonely in life. At any case, my conscience was telling me that I don't deserve to live a kind of life where I could smile as if nothing ever happened.

   And I accepted it wholeheartedly.

  Let the flow of fate decide the obstacles that are yet to come. I feel relief in my mind knowing that atleast I was being punished for the things I've done.

   What I usually do in my life now, like I stated, was to wander around, doing nothing, and doing anything as I please while also maintaining where to cross the lines.

   At day, I mostly stay at the places where I normally sleeps, in an abandoned house, building, or any other structures that could protect me from weathers that doesn't reek of people. And during the night, is where I would mostly walk around the city, finding myself some amusement to appeal my sense of self-awareness.

   I'm not entirely anti-social. I sometimes talk to people, though, only for certain crucial matters, but mostly, I isolate myself. I like it that way. I don't really intend to socialize. I just want to live a lowkey life where nobody recognizes me. If I'm being honest, I'm hiding from them, those pesky Heroes.

   I find myself frozen in front of a middle school, one of the main schools of this city. Despite knowing that there were guards patrolling this school every night, I still decided to step inside, stealthily. One of my main hobbies was to play with people jokingly. Sometimes, I would scare the guards that I stumble upon, or those addicts that mostly hid behind the alleys. I like their screams and the panic of fear. It makes me feel full and warm inside my heart. This one was no different, I rarely step inside this school. I don't even know its name, not that I care.

   Back to the topic, I dislike Heroes.

   One of the many things I found interesting was how quickly people adapted and treated the appearance of quirks as the new norm. Now, we live in a society where society is heavily categorized: the quirkless and those with quirks. Kinda like the haves and the have-nots.

   I observed what my eyes can see, I can process things that are happening in front of me. The quirkless were treated as nothing but a hassle in society, a creature treated as a defect that wasn't meant to live. A mistake. They were an imperfection to the frame of this new norm.

   Which is kind of absurd knowing that those "Heroes" that society looked up and depended to aren't even doing anything to stop this endless, silent torment. They only cared for themselves and their fame. The concept of Heroes was to protect society from evil forces, they were designed to do heavy and dangerous tasks in order to maintain peace in society, but now, it was nothing but a bland term used for famous people that causes havoc among the daily lives of civilians, with the same and stupid reason of stopping the villains; people who are misunderstood or treated unfairly by society.

   I could hear them. Their silent calls for help, their pleas of hope, waiting for something that wasn't coming.

   Heroes were nothing but an obstacle to me. While many thought they were the ones maintaining this order of complex tranquility, deep down, they were the ones that are causing all of this.

   I'm not siding with the villains. I just hold personal grudges against those heroes. Some peacekeepers they say. I feel so bad for those hopeful kids that are aspiring to be one of them. They were being raised to fend off people who were mistreated and misunderstood.

   Nobody will see it. People will look at you from the things they heard about you.
  
   Suddenly, I feel a presence hastily coming my way, causing me to look up and quickly step behind.

   "*Splat*"

   I stared wide-eyed and speechless.

   In front of me was the body of a teenager, barely the same age as me. He wore a school uniform, which I can only distinguish was from here. I could see blood seeping out from his head and his body, while his entire body was positioned in such an awkward angle that I was sure that every bones in his arms and legs broke.

   What bothered me was his eyes and his chest. His chest was rising back and forth, trying to grasp the air it could get, and his eyes wavered around as if he was confused, before sternly landing straight at mine. I remained frozen in my position as every ounce of life in his body started to leave. He struggles to breathe air, but fails unsurprisingly. I try to grasp my current situation. As I looked up from where he fell down–up on the rooftop.

   I could only assume for the worst. This boy jumped from the building.

   I stepped back when the puddle of blood nearly touch my feet. I glance at his lower body, instantly confirming my conclusion; he wasn't wearing any shoes. I hear him cough, the hint of pain evident in his tone. With one last intake of air, his breathing silently stopped and his eyes suddenly lost colors;his eyes were no longer radiating its fascinating emerald-green iris. I could no longer observe his chest moving.

   I could observe his body just instantly tensing up. I slowly walk towards him, unbothered by the pool of blood I was now stepping onto. As I try to feel any pulse from his neck, I felt nothing.

   This boy was officially dead.