Enough

The living room was quiet except for the low murmur of the television. Y/N sat cross-legged on the plush couch, her attention fixed on the screen as the news anchor droned on about the latest hero activities. Her eyes darted eagerly across the headlines, searching for any mention of her favorite hero, Eraserhead. It had been a while since he had made an appearance, and her heart sank a little with each passing report that didn’t mention his name. Still, her admiration for him hadn’t waned in the slightest. To her, he embodied a unique mix of practicality and strength—someone who worked in the shadows yet always got the job done. 

She sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions, the familiar ache in her stomach starting to gnaw at her again. It wasn’t hunger in the traditional sense, and she knew better than to hope for relief from anything she could find in the kitchen. It had been three long years since the attack that had upended her life and rewritten the rules she now lived by. 

Gone were the days when she could savor her favorite meals. Food had become a cruel joke, her body rejecting everything it once loved. It hadn’t taken long for her to figure out what she needed to survive now, and the knowledge filled her with a sense of horror and guilt that never entirely went away. She kept it a secret from everyone, including her pops. The world thought she was just another quirkless kid trying to make her way, and she let them believe it. It was easier that way.

“Y/N!” her pops called from somewhere down the hall, his warm voice breaking her out of her thoughts.

She glanced toward the sound, her brow furrowing slightly. “Coming!” she called back, reaching for the remote to mute the television. Standing up, she smoothed down her clothes, brushing off invisible lint in a nervous habit. The ache in her stomach intensified, but she pushed it down, burying it under years of practiced restraint.

She walked down the hallway, her footsteps soft against the hardwood floor, and stopped in the doorway to the room where her pops stood. He was near the front door, his steady, fatherly presence as reassuring as ever. His smile was warm, and it softened the sharpness of his features. But it wasn’t just him in the room. Standing beside him was a boy—tall and lanky, with a rigid posture and an expression that screamed indifference. 

“Y/N,” her pops said, motioning her over. “This is Kai Chisaki. He’ll be staying with us from now on.”

Y/N blinked, her gaze flicking to the boy. His dark golden-brown eyes avoided hers at first, focused instead on some invisible spot on the floor. There was a coldness to his demeanor, a distance that made him seem much older than his fifteen or so years. He didn’t look particularly happy to be here, and truthfully, Y/N wasn’t thrilled at the idea of sharing her home with a stranger. Still, she managed a polite smile.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice light and friendly. “I’m Y/N.”

Kai finally looked at her, his eyes meeting hers for the briefest of moments. His expression was unreadable, but he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Kai,” he said curtly.

Her pops clapped his hands together, breaking the awkward silence. “I expect you two to get along,” he said warmly. “Kai has been through a lot, just like you, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll find common ground.” His words were gentle but carried a weight that made Y/N’s chest tighten. She knew exactly what he was referencing—the kindness he had shown her three years ago, the way he had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go.

Y/N nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure how to connect with someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with her. “I can show him around the house,” she offered hesitantly.

Her pops beamed at her. “That’s a great idea. Thank you, Y/N.” Turning to Kai, he added, “You’re in good hands. Y/N’s been here a while now. She’ll help you settle in.”

Kai’s gaze shifted back to Y/N, his expression as neutral as ever. After a moment, he gave another small nod. “Okay.”

Taking that as a sign to proceed, Y/N gestured for him to follow her. They walked through the house, her voice filling the silence with explanations about where everything was. She showed him the kitchen, the spare bedrooms, and the backyard, pausing occasionally to give him a chance to respond. But Kai remained quiet, offering only brief answers or nods of acknowledgment. He kept his hands in his pockets the entire time, his stiff posture never relaxing.

Y/N didn’t press him. She understood what it was like to feel out of place, to carry the weight of loss and uncertainty. When she had first arrived, she’d been just as guarded, just as unsure of her footing in a world that felt like it had been turned upside down. 

Eventually, they returned to the living room, and Y/N paused near the couch, watching him carefully. “It’s not so bad here,” she said gently. “Pops is… he’s kind. He’ll take care of you.”

Kai’s eyes met hers, and for a split second, something flickered in his cold gaze—vulnerability, maybe, or a hint of hesitation. “I don’t need to be taken care of,” he muttered, his voice low but firm.

Y/N tilted her head, offering him a small, understanding smile. “That’s what I thought, too. But it’s okay to let someone help. Just… don’t push him away, okay?”

Kai didn’t respond, but his expression shifted ever so slightly, the walls he had built around himself faltering for just a moment. He turned his attention to the muted television, his brow furrowing slightly as he pointed to the screen. “Who’s that?” he asked.

Y/N’s face lit up, the tension in the room easing as excitement replaced her earlier apprehension. “That’s Eraserhead!” she said enthusiastically. “He’s my favorite hero. He’s the coolest. You’ll see.”

Kai raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, his skepticism clear. Still, he moved toward the couch and sat down, his posture as stiff as ever. Y/N followed, plopping down beside him and unmuting the television. 

For a while, they sat in silence, the sounds of the news filling the room. Kai didn’t say much, but he didn’t leave, either. It wasn’t much, but for Y/N, it was a start—a small step toward something that could one day resemble trust. For now, that was enough.

A few weeks had passed since that night, and despite her best efforts to avoid him, Y/N couldn’t ignore Kai’s presence in the house. It had started subtly—footsteps in the hallway, the creak of floorboards when he moved from room to room—but over time, he became harder to overlook. Their shared space, once a sanctuary for her, now felt smaller, as though the walls themselves were conspiring to push them together. She kept her distance, careful not to provoke him, but it was impossible not to notice him. His presence lingered like a storm cloud, heavy and charged, and while Y/N had grown used to his silence, the tension was always there.

Her "pops" had made it clear that Kai wasn’t just a guest—he was family. Whether or not Kai shared that sentiment was another matter entirely. He barely spoke to her, his aloofness tinged with irritation that made her tread carefully. She didn’t need to ask why; his mistrust of quirks, especially his own, was well known. But even as she kept her distance, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her. Did he resent her presence? Tolerate it? Or was she just another nuisance in his carefully controlled world?  

Whatever the answer, Kai wasn’t one to share it, and their interactions remained minimal at best. Despite that, Y/N had begun to accept his existence as part of her daily life. He was there, a constant shadow in the periphery, and while she couldn’t say she liked him, there was a certain comfort in knowing he wasn’t going anywhere. 

One evening, she found herself in the living room, her laptop balanced on her knees as she scrolled through news articles. It was late, the kind of quiet that felt fragile, like a glass about to shatter. Kai stood near the kitchen, his posture stiff as always, his back to her. Y/N moved carefully, trying not to make a sound as she stretched. But in her effort to avoid disturbing him, her elbow brushed against his side.

It was an innocent mistake, a fleeting moment of contact—but to Kai, it was anything but. 

Y/N froze, her breath catching as his entire body went rigid. His reaction was immediate and visceral, his gloved hand shooting out before she could even process what was happening. In an instant, her arm was gone.  

The sound was sickening—flesh tearing, bones disassembling with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed across the floor, dark and vivid against the pale tiles, and Y/N’s severed arm lay in pieces at her feet. The pain was sharp, blinding, but she didn’t scream. She didn’t even flinch. 

Instead, she sat back down, cradling her knees as the blood pooled around her. She stared at the mess, her expression eerily calm. The tingling had already begun, warmth spreading through her body as her cells worked to heal the damage. 

Kai’s breath hitched, his wide eyes darting between her and the gruesome sight on the floor. “I—I didn’t mean to!” he stammered, his voice strained with panic. “What the hell… Y/N, your arm—!”

“It’s fine,” she said softly, her tone steady despite the chaos. “I’m used to it. This isn’t the first time.” Her gaze lifted to meet his, her expression detached but not unkind. “I’ve been with pops long enough to know how this goes. It doesn’t freak me out.”

Kai stared at her, his disbelief palpable. His quirk, Overhaul, was a weapon—a tool of precision and destruction. He used it to disassemble and reassemble with ease, but always on his terms, always in control. Yet here she was, sitting in a pool of her own blood, unbothered. Her serenity unsettled him.  

Y/N managed a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You should know, Kai. I’m quirkless. The world’s not kind to people like me. So if you’re thinking I’ll panic over something like this… I won’t.”

His expression hardened, his hands twitching as he looked at the remains of her arm. For a moment, she thought he might leave—walk away and let her sort herself out. But then his hands moved, almost of their own accord. Slowly, methodically, he crouched down and began the process of putting her arm back together.

The air around them crackled with the energy of his quirk. Pieces of her dismembered arm floated upward, reassembling with mechanical precision. The sound of bones fusing and flesh knitting filled the room, and Y/N watched in silence, her heartbeat steady. She flexed her fingers as her arm became whole again, the warmth of the process fading as the last piece fell into place.

Kai straightened, his posture as stiff as ever, his expression unreadable. He didn’t meet her gaze, his hands clenched at his sides as if touching her had burned him. 

“Are you satisfied now?” Y/N asked quietly. Her tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge of sadness beneath it. “You didn’t want to fix it, did you? Didn’t want to touch me. Didn’t want to put me back together.”

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t respond immediately, but the discomfort on his face was answer enough. Kai’s quirk had always been a means of control, a way to impose order on chaos. Using it to help—especially someone like her—was foreign, unnatural. And yet, he had done it. 

“You’re not like them,” he muttered at last, his voice rough. “You’re not a rat.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his words. She didn’t know what to say. In Kai’s world, quirks were taints, and those who wielded them were lesser. But she was quirkless, an anomaly in his carefully constructed worldview. 

“I’m just… me,” she said after a moment, her voice soft but steady. “I don’t need anything from you, Kai. I’m just here, surviving. Just like you.”

He stared at her, his brow furrowed as he absorbed her words. There was no judgment in her tone, no pity—just an understanding that unnerved him. Without another word, Kai turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards.

Y/N let out a slow breath, glancing at the bloodstained tiles. The room felt impossibly quiet now, the tension lingering like smoke after a fire. She flexed her fingers again, marveling at how easily her arm had been restored.  

The world wasn’t kind to people like her, but it hadn’t been kind to Kai either. Maybe that’s why, despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to hate him.

The night air was sharp and cold, biting at Y/N’s skin as she wrapped herself in her dark cloak. She moved with practiced precision, slipping out of her bedroom window with the ease of someone who had done this countless times. The house was still, Pops and Kai both deep in sleep. They didn’t need to know where she went on nights like this, nor would they understand. 

Her bare feet padded silently against the pavement, her heart steady as she made her way through the quiet streets. She stuck to the shadows, avoiding the occasional flicker of a streetlamp or the drunken stagger of a passerby. Her path was clear—she was heading to the outskirts, to the place where she could feed.

The hunger had become unbearable in recent weeks, a constant gnawing in her gut that refused to be ignored. It was no longer something she could suppress or deny. She had tried to starve it away, to cling to her humanity, but the world was unforgiving. Her survival depended on giving in to the primal need that burned inside her. 

She soon reached the slums, a familiar and desolate part of the city where the forgotten were left to rot. This was where she hunted, where the world’s castaways became her lifeline. She navigated the narrow, trash-littered alleys with ease, her sharp eyes scanning for her prey. Tonight, she was lucky.

The body lay crumpled in the shadows, illuminated faintly by a broken streetlamp. It was a man, his pale face turned toward the sky, his expression vacant. A small pile of pills lay spilled beside him, the remnants of his final act. Y/N crouched over the corpse, her gaze cold and calculating. No hesitation, no guilt. 

Her fingers moved with steady purpose as she opened the man’s shirt, revealing his lifeless torso. She could feel the hunger sharpening inside her as she worked, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air. The organs came out cleanly—heart, liver, kidneys—all wrapped carefully in the cloth she had brought. She ignored the blood that smeared her hands, the dark stains that seeped into her clothes. This wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. 

Once her task was done, Y/N stood and took a step back, her bundle secured under her arm. She cast one last glance at the body before turning away, leaving it where it had fallen. She didn’t linger. There was no point. Survival didn’t allow room for remorse.

As she made her way back, the cold pavement pressing against her feet, a strange unease began to creep into her chest. It was subtle at first—a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder but saw nothing, the darkness of the slums as empty as ever. Still, her instincts told her she wasn’t alone.

Her pace quickened, her heartbeat steady but ready for a fight. She couldn’t afford to be careless. Not now, not with the organs she carried, her lifeline wrapped in cloth. The hunger still lingered, its edge dulled but not satisfied, urging her to keep moving. 

Then she heard it—a soft shuffle of footsteps, just barely audible over the silence. Someone was following her. She kept her stride even, resisting the urge to look again. Whoever it was, they were close. Too close. She tightened her grip on the bundle, her mind racing. Had someone seen her? Had she been sloppy? Or was this just bad luck?

She took a sharp turn into a narrow alley, her movements fluid and calculated. The air here was heavier, the stench of decay stronger. She knew this part of the slums well, knew how to navigate its labyrinthine paths. If she could just shake her pursuer, she could make it back to Pops’ house unnoticed. 

But the footsteps persisted, growing louder. Her pulse quickened as she glanced back, just for a moment. That’s when she saw it—a flash of silvery-blue hair, catching the faint light of the moon. Her breath hitched, her chest tightening. Whoever it was, they weren’t just any vagrant or drunkard wandering the slums. They were deliberate, purposeful. 

Panic threatened to creep in, but she shoved it down. She had faced worse than this. She wouldn’t let herself be caught. Not tonight. 

She broke into a sprint, her bare feet silent against the ground as she wove through the alleys. The bundle of organs pressed tightly against her chest, her lifeline to survival. The hunger still gnawed at her, urging her to stop and consume, but she couldn’t. Not yet. 

The figure behind her was fast, their movements calculated, almost too controlled for someone who didn’t know these streets. Y/N’s mind raced. Whoever this was, they weren’t just following her on a whim. They knew. They had seen her, and now they were chasing her.

She darted around another corner, her breath coming in sharp bursts. She needed to lose them, needed to disappear into the shadows as she always had. The silvery-blue hair flashed again in her periphery, closer this time. Her stomach twisted, not from fear, but from the growing certainty that this wasn’t over.

Finally, she reached a dead end. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape. There—a fire escape ladder hung just within reach. She jumped, her fingers gripping the cold metal as she hoisted herself up. She climbed quickly, her body moving on pure instinct. Below, the footsteps stopped, the figure standing still at the base of the wall. She didn’t look down, didn’t dare acknowledge the presence below her.

When she reached the rooftop, she collapsed onto her knees, clutching the bundle of organs tightly. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath, her mind racing. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the figure, but that flash of silvery-blue hair lingered in her thoughts. It was hauntingly familiar, though she couldn’t place why. 

As she sat there, staring out at the city lights in the distance, a single thought pushed its way to the forefront of her mind. She couldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop. Survival was all that mattered now. She would endure this hunger, this curse.

The first light of dawn crept into Y/N’s room, the faint orange glow spilling through the small gap in her curtains. She slipped quietly through the window, her bare feet touching the wooden floor with practiced silence. Her body ached from the long, grueling walk, and the faint, lingering burn of adrenaline from being pursued had yet to fade. The person following her had been persistent, forcing her to spend hours weaving through dark alleys, doubling back, and listening intently for the slightest sound of footsteps behind her. 

Now, at last, she was home.

The room was just as she had left it: small, quiet, and dimly lit by the sliver of rising sunlight. The faint hum of the mini-fridge in the corner welcomed her, a sound that had grown to feel oddly comforting in her chaotic life. Carefully, Y/N unwrapped the bloodstained bundle she carried, her fingers moving delicately to avoid leaving a mess. Inside lay her spoils—the organs she had taken earlier, still fresh and glistening. She placed them in the fridge, organizing them in a way that would keep them hidden behind the ordinary food stored there. 

She closed the fridge door slowly, her fingers lingering on the cool surface as her mind raced. She hadn’t been caught. That was all that mattered. Her secret, her survival—both were safe, for now. 

Still, her heart was pounding, and the unease from the night’s chase lingered, gnawing at her thoughts. She leaned against her desk, letting out a deep, shaky exhale. The silence of the room wrapped around her like a cocoon, offering a brief moment of solace. But that solace was fleeting. The reality of her situation was quick to sink back in, heavy and unavoidable.

Her gaze flicked to the clock on her desk. The glowing red numbers warned her that time was slipping away. She had only a couple of hours before school. She needed to shower and prepare before anyone in the house woke up. Pops—no, Boss—and Kai couldn’t know about her nighttime activities. They thought she was normal, just another one of Boss’s kids trying to survive in a harsh world. They had no idea what she truly was, what she was becoming.

With a grimace, Y/N stripped off her clothes, wincing as she noticed the dark, rusty bloodstains that streaked the fabric. The sight didn’t faze her anymore. Blood was simply part of her reality, a byproduct of the life she had no choice but to lead. She tossed the clothes into the corner of her room, a mental note forming to deal with them later. For now, she needed to clean herself up.

The bathroom was cold and quiet, the tiles cool beneath her feet as she stepped into the shower. She turned the knob, and warm water streamed down, enveloping her in a comforting heat. For a brief moment, she let herself relax, her head resting against the tiled wall as the water cascaded over her. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but her mind refused to quiet.

She had been so close to being caught. The memory of those footsteps behind her, the flash of silvery-blue hair she had seen when glancing back—it was seared into her thoughts. Who had it been? And why were they following her? The questions churned in her head, unanswered and maddening. If they knew what she had done, what she had taken, they might come after her again. Or worse, they might tell someone. She couldn’t afford that. Not now. Not ever.

Y/N grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed her skin vigorously, washing away the blood and grime from her nighttime excursion. The crimson streaks swirled down the drain, disappearing as if they had never existed. She worked methodically, cleaning every inch of herself, as though scrubbing away the evidence could also erase the guilt. Not that she felt guilt anymore—not really. She had stopped hesitating a long time ago. Survival didn’t allow for guilt, didn’t permit second thoughts or regret. 

When she finished, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around herself. She caught sight of her reflection in the fogged-up mirror, her tired eyes staring back at her. For a moment, she felt the weight of it all—the hunger that never truly went away, the constant fear of being found out, the burden of living with a secret so dark it could never see the light of day. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. There was no room for doubt. This was her life now. 

Quickly, Y/N dried herself off and dressed in her school uniform. The crisp fabric felt foreign against her freshly cleaned skin, but the routine was grounding. It was normalcy in the midst of chaos, a mask she had perfected over the years. She ran a comb through her hair, fixing it neatly before glancing at the clock again. She still had time. 

Her eyes drifted to the mini-fridge, where the organs sat, hidden and waiting. Her stomach growled faintly, a reminder of the hunger that never truly left her. But she couldn’t eat yet. Not here. Not now. Instead, she tucked the hunger away, like she did everything else. She would eat when the time was right, when no one could see her. No one had to know. 

With one last deep breath, Y/N opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The house was still quiet, the early morning light filtering through the windows. Pops and Kai were still asleep, their soft snores faintly audible from their respective rooms. She moved quietly, her footsteps light against the floorboards, careful not to disturb them.

As she descended the stairs, her thoughts wandered back to the silvery-blue hair she had seen the night before. It had been so brief, just a glimpse, but it had been enough to unsettle her. There was something almost familiar about it, though she couldn’t quite place why. Whoever it was, they had been fast and deliberate, too skilled to be just another bystander. She didn’t know what they wanted or if they would come back, but she knew she had to stay alert.

Y/N entered the kitchen. The city was waking up now, the streets below coming to life with the sounds of distant traffic and early risers. She watched the world move on as if everything was normal, as if she wasn’t living a double life, balancing on the edge of a knife.

For a brief moment, her thoughts shifted to Shota Aizawa, the man who had saved her once, long ago. He had shown her kindness in a world that had only ever been cruel, and she had never forgotten him. She didn’t know if he even remembered her, but she held onto the memory of him like a lifeline. It was part of what kept her going, what gave her the strength to endure. She would survive, no matter what it took, because one day, she would see him again. 

Y/N straightened her posture and prepared herself for the day ahead. Another day of pretending, of playing the part of the normal, quiet girl who fit seamlessly into her surroundings. Another day of hiding the truth. It was exhausting, but it was necessary. 

As the sun rose higher, casting its warm light across the city, Y/N pushed aside the lingering unease from the night before. She would move forward, as she always did, because survival demanded nothing less. 

The morning sun had barely crept over the horizon, casting its pale light through the kitchen window, as Y/N sat hunched over her laptop, her fingers scrolling absently across the touchpad. The hum of the quiet house was punctuated by the faint clinking of a mug being set down in front of her. She blinked and looked up to see Kai standing there, his sharp gaze distant but calculating as always. 

“Drink,” he said flatly before turning back toward the counter, leaving her with the steaming cup of coffee. 

Y/N stared at it for a moment. She wasn’t sure what surprised her more—the fact that Kai had bothered to make her anything or the fact that she was tempted to try it. Food and drink had long since become meaningless to her. Nothing tasted right anymore; everything human tasted like dirt or ash, leaving her hollow and frustrated whenever she tried to eat. Her body no longer needed sustenance, yet the absence of taste, the alien rejection of something so fundamental, was a reminder of what she had become.

But this was different. Something about the smell—the rich, bitter aroma—caught her off guard. She had never tried coffee before. It had always seemed unappealing, just another thing that would disappoint her senses. Yet now, with the mug in front of her, curiosity tugged at her. Hesitant, she wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, lifting it to her lips.

The first sip was tentative. The heat hit her tongue first, followed by the smooth bitterness of the brew. She paused, her eyes widening slightly. It didn’t taste bad. It didn’t taste like dirt, or ash, or anything her body would immediately reject. In fact… it tasted good. The richness of the coffee settled in her mouth, the faint bitter edge surprisingly pleasant. It was a revelation, and she found herself taking another sip, slower this time, savoring the sensation.

Kai returned to his spot at the counter, leaning against it with his own mug in hand. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, his face unreadable. She knew better than to assume this was an act of kindness—Kai didn’t do kindness. But whatever his reasoning, she found herself grateful for the small gesture. 

The laptop screen in front of her displayed an article about the latest hero activity. Y/N had been keeping tabs on them for months, though not out of any general fascination with heroes. Most of them, with their bright costumes and hollow slogans, held no appeal for her. But there was one exception: Eraserhead. Something about him had drawn her in from the first time she saw him. He wasn’t like the others. There was no theatrics, no grandstanding. He was quiet, efficient, and unwavering. He got the job done without needing applause or recognition. 

She admired that. She admired him.

As she took another sip of coffee, the rich warmth spreading through her, Kai’s voice cut through the quiet kitchen. “You spend too much time obsessing over them,” he said, his tone cold but laced with irritation. “Heroes. They’re no different from the villains they claim to fight.”

Y/N didn’t look up from her screen. She had heard this argument from him countless times before. Kai’s disdain for Quirks, heroes, villains—anyone who perpetuated what he called a diseased system—was a cornerstone of his worldview. She didn’t share his cynicism, but she had learned to pick her battles. 

“I don’t care about heroes,” she said calmly, her eyes still scanning the article. “I care about Eraserhead.”

Kai’s lips curled in a faint sneer. “Eraserhead,” he repeated mockingly. “You’re obsessed with him. Why? He’s just another cog in the machine.”

This time, Y/N looked up, her gaze steady as it met his. “He’s not like the others,” she said simply. “He doesn’t play their games. He does his job, and he doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not.”

Kai scoffed, setting his mug down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “And you think that makes him special? He’s still part of the problem. Just another mask for a corrupt system.”

Y/N set her mug down carefully, her fingers lingering on the warm ceramic. For a moment, she debated whether to respond. Kai’s worldview was rigid, unyielding, and arguing with him rarely led anywhere. But something about his dismissal of Eraserhead, of what she saw in him, struck a nerve.

“I’m not idolizing him,” she said softly, her voice calm but firm. “I know the world is broken. I know what I am. But he’s different. He doesn’t care about fame or recognition. He just does what needs to be done. And that’s real. That’s something worth admiring.”

Kai’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. For a moment, the tension in the room felt like it might snap. But then he exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re deluding yourself,” he muttered. “Clinging to the idea that there’s something pure in all this mess. It’s pathetic.”

Y/N didn’t flinch at his words. She had grown used to Kai’s harshness, his blunt dismissal of anything he deemed weak or foolish. But she didn’t back down, either. “Maybe,” she said quietly. “But I’d rather believe in something, even if it’s flawed, than give up completely.”

Kai didn’t respond immediately. He stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he picked up his mug and turned away. “Do what you want,” he said over his shoulder. “Just don’t expect me to care.”

Y/N watched him go, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. She picked up her mug again, taking another sip of the coffee. The warmth of it grounded her, its taste a small comfort in a world that often felt alien and unforgiving. 

This was the first thing—*the only thing*—that didn’t taste like a reminder of what she had lost. It was small, almost insignificant, but it felt like a victory. For the first time in what felt like forever, she had found something that felt… normal. 

As she turned back to her laptop, her thoughts lingered on Eraserhead. On the way he moved through the world, unbothered by the noise and chaos that surrounded him. Maybe Kai was right. Maybe she was clinging to something foolish, something that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. But she didn’t care. 

In a life that often felt like a series of compromises and secrets, this was hers. A quiet admiration, a belief in someone who didn’t need to be perfect to be worth believing in. 

She took another sip of coffee, savoring the taste. For now, it was enough.