𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐧𝐡𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬

[17]

Two of hearts

17

___

"Is everyone good and ready?! The event's about to begin!"

Y/n sat in the prep room, the air thick with tension and anticipation. Her head rested against her hand, fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on her temple. The weight of her father's morning proclamation hung over her like a storm cloud, casting a shadow on the excitement of the impending Sports Festival.

"Not allowed to fail," his words echoed in her mind. The pressure bore down on her shoulders, threatening to crush her joy for the competition. It wasn't just about proving herself to the world; it was about meeting the expectations that her father had meticulously carved for her.

"I wish I coulda' worn my costume." Mina huffed.

"They're not allowed, in the interest of fairness."

"But Y/n has her flamethrower thingies!"

Y/n glanced up, her brow slightly furrowed. "Because I literally can't use my quirk without them." She explained firmly, her tone dripping in slight annoyance.

Mina, taken aback by the blunt response, blinked in surprise. Y/n continued, her irritation evident, "Do you expect me to go out there and be basically quirkless?" The stress of the situation, coupled with the weight of her father's expectations, seeped into her words.

Immediately recognizing the tension she caused, Y/n ran her hands through her hair in frustration, regret etched across her face. "Sorry... I just– I need a moment..." she mumbled, hastily exiting the prep room.

Outside the prep room, the narrow hallway felt confining as Y/n grappled with the mounting stress. She paced back and forth, her steps echoing the rapid beat of her heart. Fingers clenched, she instinctively sought solace in the habitual act of biting her fingernails. Each anxious nibble was a small outlet for the pent-up pressure inside her.

A few strands of hair escaped from the messy bun she had hastily put together that morning. Unconsciously, she began to grip and pull at her hair, a physical manifestation of the mental tug-of-war between her aspirations and her father's expectations. The tension in her shoulders and the crease between her brows spoke volumes about the internal struggle that threatened to consume her.

Y/n felt the world closing in on her, each breath becoming more difficult to draw. Panic surged through her veins like an electric current, causing her chest to tighten and her limbs to tremble. It was as if the weight of her father's expectations had congealed into an oppressive force, suffocating her.

'You cannot fail. You cannot fail. You cannot fail.'

She staggered backwards, desperately seeking a semblance of stability. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing thin. Her vision blurred, and the sounds around her morphed into an indistinct cacophony. The room felt like it was spinning, and her attempts to ground herself were futile.

'Let them fear you.'

Her heart pounded relentlessly, echoing the chaos in her mind. Each beat reverberated through her, intensifying the overwhelming sense of impending doom. Cold sweat coated her palms, and she clutched at her chest as if to slow the frantic rhythm within.

'You need to be exceptional.'

Y/n's frustration reached its peak, a turbulent storm brewing within her. Without a second thought, she swung her fist toward the nearest wall, a raw, unbridled rage propelling the blow. A resounding crack echoed through the air as her fist collided with the unyielding surface.