Black eye (L. Garmadon x Reader)

t h r e e

The apartment was enveloped in an unsettling silence, a hush that pressed down on (Y/N) as she lay in bed, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through her window. The soft, flickering light cast dancing shadows across the walls, but despite her exhaustion, sleep remained a distant prospect. Her mind raced, buzzing with thoughts not just about the coffee shop, but the weight of everything else pressing on her.

High school.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she turned over, burying her face into the cool, soft fabric of her pillow. In just a few weeks, she would be stepping into Ninjago City High—a completely new environment where she didn't know a single person. The mere thought of it sent a fresh wave of anxiety surging through her. That alone was nerve-wracking enough, but the part-time job at Aromá added an extra layer of stress that twisted her stomach in knots. How was she supposed to balance both? Working to help support her parents felt like a monumental task on its own, but school, too? It felt impossible.

She envisioned the grueling days that lay ahead: early morning shifts at the café, rushing off to class, burning the midnight oil to finish assignments, and then waking up to do it all again. The prospect of falling behind in her studies terrified her more than she dared to admit. What if she couldn't keep up? What if she failed at both?

And it wasn't just about her. Her parents depended on her to help with the bills, to ensure they didn't slip behind again. The thought of quitting her job, even for school, lingered in the back of her mind like a tempting escape. But they needed her, and the idea of letting them down was unbearable.

What if it was too much?

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut, praying for the anxiety to fade, but it clung to her like a shadow. She hadn't even stepped foot into high school yet, and already the pressure felt suffocating. Everyone warned her that high school was challenging enough without additional burdens piling on top. How could she possibly manage it all? Would there be time for anything beyond work and school? For friendships? For herself?

With a groan, she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, her small room—its cramped space filled with a bed and bare walls—felt like it was closing in on her. She had hoped that starting the job would alleviate some of her worries, that a routine would bring her a sense of control. Instead, it had only magnified her stress.

With a sense of dread coiling in her stomach, (Y/N) reached for her phone, her heart pounding as she hesitated, fingers hovering above the screen. After a moment, she finally opened the calendar app, the glow of the numbers stark against the darkness of her room. Counting the days until school began, her anxiety surged with each swipe, each passing number a reminder of the time slipping away. Two weeks. Just two weeks to untangle the chaos swirling in her mind and figure out how to manage it all. A heavy weight settled on her chest as she fixated on the date, the looming deadline pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket.

"I need to go for a walk," she muttered under her breath, the words barely breaking the stillness of the night. Glancing at the clock once more—1 a.m.—she frowned. It wasn't the safest hour for a midnight stroll, but an inexplicable tugging in her chest urged her to step outside, as if the night itself beckoned her.

Quiet as a whisper, she grabbed her jacket, the fabric whispering against her skin. Tiptoeing across the floor, she navigated the familiar layout of her room, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that threatened to announce her escape. Slipping out of the apartment, memories of her life in Jamanakai Village began to surface, mingling with her apprehensions.

She didn't blame her parents for the move—they had struggled financially, and she understood their decision—but the thought of starting over in a new city felt daunting. Being naturally reserved, (Y/N) couldn't shake the worry that making friends in this unfamiliar place would be impossible. Transferring to a school where everyone had already formed their cliques left her feeling like a ghost among the living. Where would she fit in? The idea of intruding on established friendships haunted her, igniting fears of becoming the outsider—the one who couldn't read social cues and would end up isolated, the subject of whispered conversations that questioned her presence.