KamiJirou-Dreaming

Dreams and Affection

Denki felt a light as a feather as he ran across the countryside, the grass tickling his bare shins as he sprinted after a unknown person. But for some reason, although he did not know who this person was, he felt safe and comfortable, the smile on the person's face as she turned around to look at him somehow familiar. Warm. That was the word. She glowed with warmth.

Then Denki tripped and suddenly he was sitting in a rocking chair in the lap of a man whose face seemed on the tip of his mind. But just like with the woman, he didn't feel uneasy or in danger, he felt at home and he felt like he belonged. He trusted the unknown man. The fireplace flickered as the man's lips moved, silently telling a story Denki already knew.

In a flash he was walking down the mall's huge corridors between both of these warm yet uknown people. Denki seemed less than 5 years as these two people towered above him. But in their shadows, he didn't feel cold or under pressure, but free and happy. He felt light taps as he skipped along while holding their hands. 

They turned their heads and looked at him, eyes full of warmth, love, and comfort. 

"Denki, you've done so much good," a voice seperate from theirs echoed as their lips moved, "You are growing far beyond our expectations; we are so proud and remember, we love you and we'll always be with you."

As the last syllable echoed like a howl in the night, Denki fell through the black hole that appeared beneath his feet.

And he kept falling, the light and smiles becoming distant. And he continued to fall. And fall. And fall.

He fell until the darkness had swallowed him. It was so dark, and so cold. And he never felt so alone. He felt his little body curl into a ball, trying to keep his warmth in and the cold out. But that didn't stop the lonliness.

He was alone, and he had forgotten what had saved him before. 

That's when a hand cracked through the dark hole. The light shined from the newly-made hole in the void. Warmth surrounded Denki as the small hand gripped his. Denki uncurled. His long lanky body had replaced his younger self as he floated to the exit. The hand tugged him along, and although he couldn't see the person, he knew who's hand it was. The way the hand gripped his in a careful and delicate balance of gentle strength. The calluses on her hand from the hours of guitar practice. The dark nail polish that he sometimes applied when she felt like being nice.

"Kyouka."

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Again, a pristine white room, but this time( Denki's heart sinking slightly at the realization ) no sleeping Kyouka. But he shrugged this off. He looked out the window unto the bright afternoon. Judging by the time, the winner between Bakugou and Tokoyami would've already emerged, and the schedules updated. 

It was only the least of his worries. He felt a tug in his heart as he remembered every subtle detail of his hallucination. The warm smiles, the caring eyes, the warmth and care of true parents. Denki had forgotten. And tears came up as he realized... he had already forgotten what his mother and father looked like. He had forgotten the voices that had so aided him 7 years prior. He forgot the melodic laughter his mother emitted when his father told one of his terrible puns in his deep, rich tone. He forgot the stories of heroes, villains, and damsels in distress. He had forgotten the warmth of snuggling in bed on a cold Christmas evening. He had forgotten the taste of his mothers potato and meat stew, or his father rice porridge.

In the span of 7 years, Denki had forgotten it all, never to regain it again. Denki felt the tears fall on his thick sheets as he heared the distant echoes of the last words before his fall.