Silence

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I laid back down on the bed. I wanted to relax. After what just happened, anyone would want to relax.

But then again, after what just happened, who could?

I messed up big time. I messed up even more than the last time I messed up.

This was bad.

I noticed that the fluorescent lights on the ceiling were lighting up the room. Unlike when I woke up previously, it was now night.

I kicked out Izuku in the dead of night.

Way to make yourself feel better, (Y/n)...

I heard two pairs of footsteps getting closer to the room. They pushed open the door and revealed Recovery Girl and Mr. Aizawa. I moved to sit back up but Recovery Girl waved her hand to signal me to stay down. I complied and stayed still while the two separated and stood by me on the separate sides of the bed. To my left was Mr. Aizawa, to my right as Recovery Girl.

"We passed Midoriya on the way here, " Mr. Aizawa started. "He seemed...deeply upset. Did something happen?" Mr. Aizawa's gaze burned into me and pressured me to answer. Izuku must have been in bad shape for Mr. Aizawa to comment about it.

"No, nothing happened. We just had...a deep conversation." Bending the truth isn't lying, right? Mr. Aizawa looked at me a second longer before nodding in response. I turned to Recovery Girl and asked, "so how am I, Recovery Girl?" Her expression remained the same, but the aura around her turned tense and serious. I glanced at Mr. Aizawa and he was also exactly like her. Recovery Girl grabbed hold of my hand and softly held it.

"(Y/n), your disease, Black Blood, has gone on for too long now. To the point where confessing is the only option if you want to live. It has been the only option. Seeing as you are now, you probably only have a week at most." I looked between them both, confused. Obviously, they were sharing something with me that just flew over my head.

"Wait, hold on. A week for what?"

"A week to confess." Mr. Aizawa answered with a strange constriction in his voice. I thought for a second. Why would I only have a week to confess? I should be able to have time to confess unless I was going to—

Then it hit me.

"Am I...going to die...?"

Silence.

Crushing, miserable, devastating silence.

No one answered.

"I am going to die." I let out a weak chuckle at my pitiful state. Here I was, flaunting that I wasn't going to confess, that I'd rather die, that everything I did was so wrong.

And now, here I was, being indirectly told that I was going to die and having to connect the pieces myself.

What a stupid way to be told you're going to die.

I slipped my hand out of Recovery Girl's grasp and covered my face. The room was too bright to be told this dark news.

"I still have a few things to tell you, " Recovery Girl gently spoke. "It's something your dad wanted me to tell you. He wanted to tell you himself, but both of your parents got called last minute to an emergency trip while you were in school." She explained.

What could possibly be more urgent then your dying daughter?

"What did my dad want to tell me?" I asked.

"He never thought he would need to tell you this because he never thought it would get this far." She paused and examined my facial expression. Empty. "When the person who was Black Blood has reached the final phase and is in their last week, a one-sided confession won't save them anymore. It has to be mutual love. A two-sided confession if you will." I lay there confused. Why hadn't my dad told me this? Did everyone really think I would confess?

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