One-Shots [Boboiboy]

It's Your Turn

If you're seeing this, it means that I am no longer able to protect the universe.

A brunette male paused in his footsteps. It was raining, but he ignored it as the pavements were glossed with rainwater under the streetlights. A force tugged at his head into a dark alleyway, where a faint light was barely illuminating a the graffitied walls.

Slowly, he approached the source of the flickering light. His steps caused ripples to form in the pooling puddles. He knelt down to investigate.

I have not fallen, but I am broken.

Another male looked up from his desk. He placed a bookmark in his textbook before rising from his seat. Rain battered against his window, but an alien light revealed itself by his windowsill.

Eyebrows raising in curiosity, his fingers slowly pried the glass panes apart. There was an unknown voice calling out to him, and he could tell that it was this mysterious light.

Don't ask why I have given up.

Pausing his video game, this male turned around. Despite the roar of the rain, the booms of his console obscured the sound of thunder. The storm sounded angry, and perhaps even desperate. He didn't know why he felt this way. He was never so poetic in his life.

He skunked over to his bed, where a soft light was peeking through his covers. Wondering whether if he'd left his phone in his bed, he unveiled the duvet and unravelled the mystery.

It's not something I would want to share.

This male ran under the rain, searching for shelter. His clothes were caked with dirt and his boots had a splash of mud. Dodging trees and roots under the dark rain, he faltered as a tug originated from his mind. Distracted, his foot caught the nook of an old root and he tripped.

Sighing, he wiped mud from his cheek. However, the force nagged at his mind in a quite literal sense. Looking up, there was a faint source of light coming from a birds' nest. The young hatchlings were chirping in alarm. He scaled the tree and looked into the nest.

If you're seeing this—accept what I am going to give you.

These twins stopped their bickering as a force pulled at their minds simultaneously. Glancing at each other, they nodded as they approached their respective nightstands, each located across the room. The room was segregated into two, with two shades of paint serving as the partition. There was a sole window at the center, and the storm went unnoticed among their argument.

Exchanging uncertain glances, they leaned in to investigate.

I am not what I used to be.

This male paused in his routine. He thrust his hand out to steady the punching bag, lest it destroys other equipment. The rain was the least of his priorities as sweat coated him like a second skin. Despite being 16, he was aiming to be the best boxer there ever was.

Glancing at his shoulder bag, a faint glow emitted from the cracks. He opened it.

You are among the seven that I chose to continue my legacy.

I apologize for not giving you a choice.

The life you're going to choose is difficult.

Whatever you do, don't follow in my footsteps.

Keep this power a secret.

Don't tell anyone what you possess, lest my enemies will strike you down.