Butterfly [ ON HIATUS/MIDORIYA ]

011. navy, woe is me.

★

I tried to be there for every step of the way. And I practically was, if there wasn't a villain terrorizing the city. I had been helping her for two weeks now, our routine becoming easier every day.

I woke up and would help her to her physical therapy appointments. Then, I would wait around and take her to her psychological appointments. Every day, she would find a new way to bury herself in the hollows of my chest.

A laugh here, a smile there. (y/n) wasn't just the only one I couldn't save, but also the only person that managed to make me feel this way.

I could see her getting stronger. One day, she even invited me to watch her walk on her own. She looked so excited, giving me a twirl. Her nurse wasn't happy about that, but I was.

"Where are we going?" I asked. (y/n) had been given specific instructions to walk without wheel chair assistance. They said if it went well, she wouldn't have to return. So far so good for the past couple of days.

"The mall, of course!" She said, smiling in the passenger seat of my car. "I have to find a dress."

"Why?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.

"Wada has an event coming up and I don't want to disappoint him," she said, looking down at her hands.

I noticed what she was wearing. A long sleeve shirt, high neck. Long pants. It wasn't very cold out that day, but I knew why. It hurt my heart to know the reason. I sighed, shaking my head.

"You won't disappoint him," I said. He had come home from his business trip, only to hop on another one.

He left her alone so often. I had come to pick her up for a therapy appointment one day and she hadn't gotten out of bed yet.

I was growing to really not like the man.

"Do you think he'll drop the whole plastic surgery thing?" She asked, cautiously. "I— I don't really want to do that."

I was pulling into the parking lot. The hints of pain in her voice made me want to yell or something. I didn't know what I wanted to do. (y/n) looked out the window, pulling her sleeves down to her palms. It was something she did when she was thinking. Or when she was nervous.

I parked and turned to face her. "You can tell him no. There's no reason you need to go into the operating room again."

She looked back at me. Her hair was pulled back, but strands laid around her face. The sunlight poured in through the window. A smile grew on her face.

"I know I can, but I want what's best for both of us," she said, opening the car door.

"Best for him or best for you?" I asked without thinking.

"You're starting to sound like my brother."

I snapped back into action, getting out quickly and moving around the car. I offered my arm, which she took to hold steady. She stepped down.

"Sorry, I just don't agree with him," I said, rubbing the back of my head while we walked toward the shops. She clutched a purse close to her body.