Enough

Y/N sat with her back rigid against the plush cushions of Hawks' couch, her arms folded tightly over her chest as if to shield herself from his prying eyes. She stared blankly at the untouched cup of tea on the coffee table before her. Its warm steam curled upward, but the aroma of it felt distant, irrelevant, like everything else in this moment. She wasn’t interested in the tea, nor was she interested in being here at all. The feeling of frustration that had been building ever since Hawks had brought her here swirled around in her chest like an unwelcome guest.

Across from her, Hawks seemed to be in no rush. He leaned casually against the wall, one wing partially unfurled and twitching slightly, like it mirrored the agitation he refused to show outwardly. His golden eyes studied her carefully, searching her expression for a crack, a sign that she was more than the hard exterior she wore. For once, his usual cocky smirk wasn’t present. Instead, there was only a calm, measured expression, as though he had finally realized that pushing her too hard wasn’t going to work.

“You’re not going back to wherever you came from,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. His voice had an edge of concern beneath it, but it wasn’t soft like it usually was when he was teasing or flirting. This time, he meant it. “Not tonight, not in this state.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped up, the edge in his voice biting through her resolve. She was still angry, still deeply frustrated by how this situation had unfolded, but she couldn’t deny the exhaustion tugging at her, both emotionally and physically. She pressed her lips together and responded sharply, trying to push him away with her words, even if she couldn’t quite manage to do so with her body. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” he responded, his tone flat, not buying it for a second. “Because bleeding all over an alleyway is totally fine, right? Not to mention—”

“Stop,” she cut him off, her gaze snapping to him, her glare sharp as a blade. She refused to look at the bloodstains on her clothes. They were a reminder of what had happened, of who had done it, and she wasn’t ready to relive any of that right now. “I told you I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

Hawks raised an eyebrow, looking completely unbothered by her sharp tone. “Oh yeah? Is that why you called me earlier, asking for help? Because you’ve got it all handled?”

Y/N’s fists clenched at her sides as her jaw tightened. She couldn’t tell if she was more frustrated with him for pressing or with herself for needing him. “That was… different.”

“Sure it was,” Hawks said, his voice taking on that teasing quality again, but there was something more serious behind it now. “Look, I’m not trying to pry—okay, maybe I am—but it’s not just about you, alright? You show up at the UA entrance exam covered in blood, looking like you’ve been through hell. That’s not something you just brush off.”

Y/N’s gaze dropped to the floor, the weight of his words hitting her harder than she expected. She wasn’t fine. She knew she wasn’t fine. But that didn’t mean she was ready to talk about it, especially not with him. “I already said I’m fine,” she muttered, keeping her voice low.

Hawks sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to stifle the frustration creeping in at the edges of his calm. “Alright, fine. Let’s say I believe you. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. What happens if you go back to wherever you’re staying and it happens again? What if you don’t have time to call someone for help next time?”

“I’m not talking about this,” Y/N snapped, standing up abruptly, the movement sharp and sudden, like she couldn’t stand being in one place for too long.

“Then let me help you another way,” Hawks countered quickly, his voice lowering, almost gentle despite the frustration underneath. “I’ve already helped a little, you know. I sent in a recommendation letter for you to UA’s business school.”

Y/N froze in place. The words took a moment to register, and when they did, she felt her heart skip a beat. She turned to face him, disbelief flashing across her face. “You what?”

“Yeah,” Hawks said nonchalantly, his usual smirk back in full force, though it seemed a little softer than usual. “I’ve got connections. I figured you’d ace the exam anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to have a little extra support, right? You’re welcome, by the way.”

Her jaw tightened, a mix of anger, confusion, and something else swirling inside her. Something she couldn’t quite name. “Why would you do that?”

Hawks’ expression shifted. The teasing, lighthearted air about him disappeared, replaced by something more sincere, something almost vulnerable. “Because I believe in you, Y/N,” he said, the words spilling out without hesitation. “You’ve got potential, and you’re smart enough to know it. You just need someone to remind you that you’re worth investing in.”

Y/N felt something choke in her throat, the unexpected kindness breaking through her defenses for just a second. She swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said quietly, her voice softer now.

“Maybe not,” Hawks replied, stepping closer, his voice becoming gentler, but his eyes held the same unwavering intensity. “But I did. And I’m not letting you go back to… wherever it is you’re trying to sneak off to. Not until I know you’re safe.”

Y/N glared at him, a surge of frustration hitting her all over again. “You can’t keep me here, Hawks. I’ll leave if I want to.”

“Yeah?” Hawks said, his voice darkening, but his eyes still filled with that same concern. “And if you do, I’ll have no choice but to get the police involved. You show up like that to an exam, covered in blood, and you expect me to just ignore it? I don’t want to do that, Y/N, but I will if it means keeping you safe.”

The weight of his words slammed into her. She knew he wasn’t bluffing. He wasn’t one to make empty threats. And the last thing she needed was the police digging into her life—or worse, her brother’s. Her chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat as she fought to keep herself composed.

“Fine,” she finally muttered, her voice barely audible, as though the words themselves were dragging her down. “You win.”

Hawks’ expression softened, though there was a touch of sadness behind his smile. “I’m not trying to win, Y/N. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She turned her head away from him, staring at the wall in front of her. Deep down, she knew he meant well, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. The weight of everything—of what had happened earlier, of her brother, of the things she couldn’t say—was too much to carry alone. And yet, she felt as though she was being dragged into something she wasn’t ready for.

For now, though, she’d stay. At least until she figured out her next move.

The living room was bathed in a soft, dim glow, the only light coming from a small, flickering lamp on the side table. Y/N sat curled up on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her as she stared at the screen of her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She hadn’t touched it all day, not since the chaos of the exam and everything that had happened after. Hawks had gone to bed hours ago, after a final unsuccessful attempt to convince her to sleep in the guest room. She had insisted the couch was fine. In the end, he had reluctantly relented, though not without some muttered complaint about her being stubborn. The last thing she wanted was to sleep in a room that felt too much like being caged, even if the space was large and comfortable.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, pulling her from her thoughts. She glanced at the notification, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name at the top of the message. Izuku. She hadn’t opened his messages yet. In fact, she hadn’t opened them at all today, and the guilt that hit her immediately was a heavy, suffocating weight. She had been so wrapped up in everything else—everything that had gone wrong—that she hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. She hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen, before reluctantly opening the conversation.

The flood of unread messages hit her all at once, each notification a silent reminder of how much time had passed without a word from her. She scanned through them quickly, her chest tightening with every line she read.

Izuku:
Hey, are you okay?  
Y/N?  
Did you make it to the exam?  
I was waiting for you, but I didn’t see you anywhere…  
Are you mad at me?  
Please text me back. I’m worried.

Her stomach churned at the sight of his frantic words. It wasn’t like her to go silent, especially when Izuku had been looking for her. She knew he’d be worried. He always worried, even when there was no reason to. But this time, there *had* been a reason, and now here she was, stuck in this mess of guilt.

With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair, staring at the screen. The weight of it all felt overwhelming. It had been a rough day—a terrible day—and Izuku didn’t deserve to be left in the dark like this. Slowly, she began typing a reply, the words coming as slowly as the thoughts in her mind.

Y/N: 
Hey, I’m so sorry for not responding sooner. I didn’t mean to worry you.  
The business school exam was in a different location than the hero exam. I was running late and didn’t have time to explain.  
I saw your texts after, but things got… complicated.  
I’m sorry for missing our meet-up. I really didn’t mean to.

She stared at the message, her finger hovering over the screen. Was that enough? Would he understand? Part of her didn’t want to explain everything, not tonight. It was too much, and she wasn’t ready to talk about the chaos of the day, the blood, or the confusing feelings she had been trying to push away all day. But it was Izuku. He deserved better than that, especially since he had been waiting for her, worrying about her.

After a few moments, Y/N took a deep breath and continued, pushing herself to be a little more honest, to let him in, just a little.

Y/N:  
I’m fine now, but it’s been a rough day. I’ll explain everything later, okay?

As soon as she hit send, she felt a sharp pang of guilt—what if that wasn’t enough? What if he was still worried? But before she could second-guess herself, the reply came through, almost immediately, as if Izuku had been waiting on the other side of the phone.

Izuku:
I thought something bad happened! I was so worried. Are you sure you’re okay?  
I didn’t see you at all, and you usually answer right away…

A wave of relief washed over her at the sight of his concern. It wasn’t the usual “are you okay?” It wasn’t the usual “don’t worry about me.” This time, Izuku had been genuinely worried, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. Her heart softened, and she quickly typed a response.

Y/N:
I’m okay, I promise.  
I really am sorry for worrying you, Izuku.

She set the phone down for a moment, looking at the words on the screen. Part of her was still hesitant, still afraid of burdening him with too much. She had no idea what to say next. How could she explain the chaos of the day without it feeling like a confession she wasn’t ready to make? The truth was that *everything* had been overwhelming, from the exam to the things she couldn’t talk about, to the strange feeling that she was drifting further away from everyone, including Izuku.

But when her phone buzzed again, she couldn’t ignore the way his name lit up the screen.

Izuku:
I’m just glad you’re okay!  
I hope everything went okay with the exam.  
I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you… I was so nervous about it, but I tried my best!  
You’ve always been so strong, Y/N, I know you’ll do great too. Just don’t keep me in suspense too long, okay?  

Y/N smiled faintly as she read his message. Even though she hadn’t been able to meet up with him like they had planned, Izuku was still doing his best to cheer her up, to make her feel better even though he was the one who had been left hanging all day. The way he never doubted her, how he always seemed to find the bright side, it was one of the things that made him so special. She was grateful for it, even if she wasn’t sure how to tell him that.

Y/N: 
You did great, I’m sure of it. And thanks, Izuku. You always know how to make me feel better.

They continued texting for another hour, the conversation flowing easily between them. He told her about how he’d managed to get through the exam despite breaking a couple of bones along the way, and she teased him lightly about his tendency to push himself too hard. The tension between them seemed to dissipate with every text, until they were both laughing over silly jokes about recovery strategies and Izuku’s fear of hospitals. 

Eventually, their conversation came to an end, and Y/N found herself typing out a final goodnight message, the kind that felt both comforting and bittersweet.

Y/N:
Goodnight, Izuku. I hope you sleep well and wake up feeling even better. 

She set her phone back on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, feeling the weight of the day catch up with her. The guilt over not answering him sooner was still there, but it didn’t sting as badly anymore. She had done her best to make things right. 

As she stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts turned to Hawks and his insistence on helping her. She couldn’t stay at his place forever, but for tonight, the couch didn’t seem so bad. Maybe it was just because she was tired—so very tired—but for the first time that day, she felt a little lighter. The space around her felt a little less suffocating, and the thought of facing whatever came next didn’t feel as overwhelming.

For now, at least, she had time to breathe.

Izuku sat cross-legged on his bed, the soft, cool glow of his phone casting shadows across his face. His fingers hovered over the screen, his gaze locked on Y/N’s messages. He’d read them again and again, his mind running in circles as he tried to piece together what had happened. His brow was furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin, tense line. The same words kept echoing in his head.

Y/N:
The business school exam was in a different location than the hero exam. I was running late and didn’t have time to explain.

The words struck him hard. It wasn’t like Y/N to be vague, let alone lie. She had always been so upfront with him—honest, straightforward, in her quiet, subtle way. So why had she said this? He knew exactly where the UA Business College entrance exam had been held. He’d looked it up weeks ago, eager to know every little detail about her exam as they’d planned their days. He wanted to be there for her, even if it meant he’d be focusing on his own exam in a completely different part of the campus.

The Business College building was close to the venue for the hero exam, but it was in a separate building. So why had she made it sound like it was elsewhere? He replayed the conversation in his head. Could it be a mistake? No. He was sure of it—Y/N wasn’t someone who mixed up locations like that.

His mind reeled, replaying the hours before the exams. He’d spent most of his time running around preparing, but he’d checked in with her. They’d made plans, after all. They had talked about the exams, joked about how stressful it all was, how they would meet up afterward to talk about it, and how they both hoped things would go smoothly. But then, he never saw her at the hero exam site. She hadn’t texted him until much later in the day, and by then, he had already been searching for her.

The nagging feeling twisted in his stomach again. He couldn’t shake the thought: Why lie to me?

Izuku leaned back against the headboard, placing his phone on his knee. His messy green hair fell into his eyes as he let out a long breath. He didn’t know what to think anymore. The frustration was building up, the uncertainty gnawing at him. He hated not knowing, especially when it involved someone he cared about so deeply. Y/N was his closest friend—the person who had always been there for him, even when he was quirkless. She had supported him through all the years when no one else would. It didn’t make sense for her to lie to him, to push him away now.

He couldn’t help but think, Maybe something happened. Maybe it wasn’t as simple as a misunderstanding or a lie. What if she had gotten caught up in something she couldn’t explain? Maybe there was more to her situation than she had let on. But even then, the thought of her being in danger or trouble terrified him. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

Maybe she doesn’t want to go to UA with me. The thought came unbidden, and it hit him like a punch to the stomach. His chest tightened painfully. His breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t considered that possibility before, but now it hung in the air like a weight pressing down on him. Could it be true? Was Y/N trying to distance herself from him? Had he done something wrong? He couldn’t understand why she would, but he couldn’t deny that the thought lingered in his mind.

No. He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to dispel the thought. That doesn’t sound like Y/N. She’d never just abandon him. She had always been the one to stand by him, even when things were tough, even when no one else was there. She had never given up on him, so why would she give up on their dreams now?

Izuku closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. There had to be a reason. He trusted Y/N—he knew her better than anyone else. She would never just shut him out like this. There was something she wasn’t telling him, something she didn’t want him to know. But what? What could it possibly be? And why wouldn’t she just tell him?

He turned the possibilities over in his mind, but they all felt incomplete, half-formed. Maybe her family didn’t want her to go to UA. He knew how controlling her father could be. He’d heard her mention him before, always in passing, always with a sense of discomfort in her voice. But would her father really stop her from chasing her dreams? And what about her brother? She rarely mentioned him, and when she did, she always changed the subject quickly. It wasn’t like Y/N to hide things like that, but maybe it had something to do with her family. Maybe they didn’t want her to leave. Maybe they didn’t understand why she had chosen this path, why she had chosen to follow her own goals instead of what they had in mind for her.

Y/N... Izuku whispered under his breath, gripping his phone tighter. It was all too much. Too many questions, too many uncertainties. He felt like he was spiraling.

He couldn’t stay here like this, sitting in the dark, unable to figure anything out. He needed to see her, to talk to her face-to-face. But for now, all he could do was wait for her to come to him. She had to come to him eventually, right? He needed to hear the truth from her, to understand what was really going on.

As much as it stung, he had to trust her. She wouldn’t lie to him without a reason. Whatever it was, it had to make sense. She had always been honest with him, and he believed that deep down, she was still the same person he had known all these years. The same Y/N who had been there when he had no one else, the same Y/N who had always encouraged him, even when he felt like giving up.

“I’ll figure it out,” he muttered to himself quietly, almost as if saying it aloud would make it true. He set his phone aside and collapsed back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He tried to focus on his breathing, but sleep didn’t come easily. His thoughts were too loud, too chaotic. All he could do was turn over the events in his head, searching for the answers he didn’t have.

And when sleep did finally claim him, his dreams were restless and full of worry. In his dreams, Y/N was running away, slipping further and further from his reach. He could hear her voice calling out to him, but each time he reached out, she was gone—vanishing into the distance, just out of his grasp.

The soft light of morning crept into the small apartment, casting a warm, golden glow over the modest living room. The air smelled faintly of sizzling bacon and freshly cooked eggs, a comforting scent that stirred something deep within her. Y/N stirred slowly on the couch, her body still heavy with sleep. Her mind was foggy, disoriented, as if she had just woken up from a dream that had already begun to slip away.

The lingering scent of breakfast seemed to coax her out of her slumber, her senses gradually waking up to the world around her. She mumbled groggily, “Kai… where’s my coffee?” Her voice was thick with sleep, hoarse and barely above a whisper. She rubbed her eyes with one hand, expecting to hear the familiar clink of a coffee cup being set down beside her.

But then, reality hit her like a slap to the face.

Her eyes shot open, heart racing, as her mind caught up with the situation. This wasn’t her home. The walls were unfamiliar, the furniture different. This wasn’t Kai. She wasn’t at his apartment, or anywhere that felt like the comfort of familiarity. The events of the previous day came rushing back in a blur—her arm, the alley, the chaos of the exam, the confrontation with Hawks. The pieces all clicked into place, but the rush of confusion and shock only intensified the knot in her stomach.

Y/N blinked rapidly, glancing around the room. It was simple, but neat—an apartment that clearly wasn’t her own. The leather couch she was on seemed far too comfortable, and her bag was neatly tucked beside her, as if someone had taken care to make sure everything was in its place. She was still wearing his oversized jacket, the sleeves hanging far past her hands, the fabric soft and warm, but far too large for her small frame.

The sound of a voice called from the kitchen, breaking her out of her thoughts.

“Morning, Miss Quirkless!” Hawks’ voice rang out, lighthearted and teasing as ever. It was far too cheerful for someone who had been involved in the events of yesterday. “Breakfast is almost ready! You want some eggs? Bacon? Or do you just run on caffeine?”

Y/N groaned in response, dragging her hands down her face. “Coffee,” she muttered, her words muffled by the weight of her exhaustion. It was all she could think of—coffee to ground her, to clear the fog in her head.

“Coming right up!” Hawks called back, his voice still carrying that playful energy as he moved around the kitchen.

Y/N leaned back against the couch cushions, closing her eyes for a moment. She tried to collect herself, trying to piece together her scattered thoughts. The strange, aching feeling in her chest intensified as she realized just how easily her brain had defaulted to Kai. The name had slipped from her lips without thinking. *Why?* She had just been through a whirlwind of chaos, yet her mind still clung to him. It was like a bad habit, a reflex she couldn’t break, no matter how much she wished she could. 

“Stop thinking about it,” she whispered to herself, rubbing her temples. She had to focus, had to push away the memories that were threatening to overwhelm her.

A moment later, Hawks appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a plate piled high with eggs and bacon in the other. He flashed her a grin, his golden eyes sparkling with that same mischievous glint. He was too casual, too cheerful for someone who had witnessed everything that happened yesterday. Y/N felt a brief flicker of irritation, but it was quickly pushed down as she reached for the coffee.

“Breakfast in bed—or, well, couch service,” he said, setting the tray down on the coffee table in front of her.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, her exhaustion not enough to mask the slight annoyance creeping into her voice. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

Hawks shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the arm of the couch with an easy confidence. “What can I say? I’m a gracious host. Plus, you looked like you needed it.” His grin softened a little, but it didn’t quite lose its playful edge.

Y/N ignored his teasing tone, instead reaching for the coffee. She took a long sip, feeling the warmth of the mug seep into her hands and the bitter taste of caffeine grounding her in the moment. Hawks watched her, his gaze steady, his smirk turning into something a little more thoughtful, a little less mischievous.

“You had a rough day yesterday,” he said, his voice quieter now, more serious. “You okay?”

Y/N didn’t meet his gaze. Her eyes remained fixed on the mug in her hands, the steam curling upward. “I’m fine,” she said shortly, the words coming out clipped. She didn’t want to talk about it, not yet, not with him. She barely knew how to talk about what had happened, let alone with someone like him.

Hawks didn’t press her. Instead, his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, before he pushed off from the couch and straightened up. “Well, eat up,” he said, his tone light again. “You’re gonna need your energy if you’re planning to sneak out of here later.”

Y/N nearly choked on her coffee, a startled laugh escaping her. She glared at him over the rim of the mug. “What makes you think I’m sneaking out?”

Hawks raised an eyebrow, that grin of his spreading even wider. “Oh, come on. You think I don’t know you by now? You’re already plotting your escape. Just don’t forget to say goodbye this time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned her attention to the plate of food, cutting a small piece of bacon with her fork. She wouldn’t admit it, but Hawks was right. She had no intention of sticking around longer than necessary. It was better this way—being on the move, not settling in one place for too long. But something in her chest twisted at the thought of leaving. She couldn’t stay here, no matter how strange the sense of safety was that she felt in Hawks' presence. It was fleeting, but it was there.

As she ate, Hawks leaned against the doorframe, his expression thoughtful, as though he were considering something. After a while, he spoke again, his tone softer now, less playful. “You know, you could stay,” he said, his voice low, almost tentative. “At least until you’re ready to deal with whatever it is you’re running from.”

Y/N paused, her fork hovering just above her plate. She didn’t look up at him, didn’t respond. The words felt too heavy, too loaded with meaning.

Hawks sighed, the sound almost imperceptible. He pushed off the doorframe and stepped toward the kitchen. “Just think about it, yeah?” he said quietly, almost as if he was speaking to himself more than to her. Then he disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts.

Y/N clenched her jaw, her mind racing. *Stay?* The idea gnawed at her, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. As much as she wanted to run, to escape everything that had happened, there was a part of her that didn’t want to leave this. The strange comfort of Hawks’ apartment, the slight warmth in his words, it was more than she had expected or wanted. She could never admit it out loud, but the small, stubborn part of her that wanted to feel safe, just for a little while, couldn’t ignore the pull of his offer.

For now, though, she’d focus on the food in front of her. One step at a time. Finish breakfast, then figure out the rest.

Y/N stood at the bathroom sink, clutching the edge with white-knuckled fingers as her stomach twisted painfully. The sensation of the food she had eaten churned in her gut, making her feel more foreign in her own body than she ever had. The bacon and eggs, simple and nourishing to most people, felt like a betrayal to her. It wasn’t just food. It was something *else*, something she wasn’t supposed to consume, not like this. It was never right. Never.

She retched, her body responding instinctively, and before she could stop it, the food she had just eaten was expelled from her stomach, splashing into the sink with a wet sound. The nausea lingered, making her shudder as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her breath came in shaky bursts as she leaned against the cold, sterile tiles of the wall. The bathroom felt smaller now, as if the walls were closing in on her with the weight of her own discontent.

The need to maintain appearances was something she had grown used to over the years. But it was exhausting, hiding the truth behind a mask of normalcy. She had to pretend she was fine, that everything was okay, even when her body felt like an alien thing. When everything inside her screamed to be rejected, her mind forced her to play along, to eat, to act like she was one of them. She wasn’t.

The sound of soft footsteps outside the door made her stiffen. It was faint, the quiet shuffle of shoes on the hardwood floor. She knew who it was. Even before the voice came, teasing yet laced with a thread of concern, she could feel his presence hovering just outside. It wasn’t a surprise. It was like he always knew when she was struggling. It was a curse and a blessing, depending on how she chose to look at it.

“You alright in there, Miss Quirkless?” Hawks called through the door, his tone light, but there was an underlying note of concern that cut through the usual teasing.

Y/N’s breath hitched, and she closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to steady. She didn’t want to be seen like this—not by him, not by anyone. She couldn’t explain what had happened, couldn’t explain why she felt so wrong. But she couldn’t let him in, either. Not now.

“Yeah,” she replied, forcing her voice to sound normal, as if everything was fine. It was a lie, but it was all she had. “Just fine.”

There was a brief silence, a stillness that made her feel even more exposed. She could practically feel him on the other side of the door, weighing whether to push further. He always knew when she was holding something back. The problem was, she didn’t know how to let anyone in. Not now. Not with him.

Finally, she heard him exhale softly, a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken words. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” he said, his voice softening. The usual bravado had melted away, replaced by a gentler tone. “I’ve seen worse. It’s okay if you’re struggling.”

Y/N flinched as if he’d slapped her, her fingers tightening on the edge of the sink. She hated it when people saw her like this—vulnerable, raw. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, not from him, not from anyone. She didn’t need it. Not now. Not when she was barely holding on.

“I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time, though the tremor in the words betrayed her. She didn’t look at her reflection in the mirror. She couldn’t. She didn’t need to see the exhaustion in her eyes. The pain she had been trying to bury for so long had a way of finding the surface, no matter how hard she fought against it.

Another long silence stretched between them. She could feel him there, lingering in the stillness, unsure of whether to press the issue. The air in the bathroom seemed thick with all the things left unsaid. Y/N could hear the soft rustle of his wings as he shifted his position outside the door, and her stomach twisted again, though it had nothing to do with the food.

“You sure about that?” Hawks asked, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. The way he said it made her feel like he was reaching out, trying to pull her from the place she’d buried herself in. He wanted to help, she knew that. But she couldn’t let him.

Y/N didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. The words were lodged somewhere deep inside her, but she couldn’t speak them, not here, not now. She wasn’t ready to break down, not in front of him. She wasn’t ready to explain why everything felt wrong, why her body rejected the simplest things, why she couldn’t let herself feel *normal*. So, instead of responding, she turned the cold water on, splashing her face, hoping the sharpness of the chill would drown out everything else—the pounding in her chest, the frustration, the vulnerability.

It didn’t help. It didn’t make the feeling go away, but it was enough to mask the cracks in her exterior, enough to hide the truth, if only for a few moments.

“Just… leave it alone,” she muttered, not caring whether he heard her or not. She didn’t want his sympathy. She didn’t want to explain why she couldn’t *be* normal. She just wanted him to go away, to stop looking at her like he could see the weakness in her that she fought so hard to conceal.

For a moment, there was no response from him. No sound of his wings, no shifting of his weight. Just silence, thick and suffocating. Y/N stood still, her fingers still gripping the sink as she tried to steady her breath.

Then, finally, Hawks spoke again, his voice softer than before, as if he’d made a decision in the silence. “Alright, Miss Quirkless,” he said, his tone carrying reluctant understanding. “But if you need anything, I’m here.”

Y/N’s heart pounded, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come, not when she felt so… broken. She didn’t want his help. She didn’t want anyone’s help. She didn’t need anyone to see her like this. Not even him.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, the words coming out louder this time, more certain, as if saying them aloud would somehow make them true. She didn’t want him to see her falling apart. She didn’t want anyone to see.

Another moment of silence passed, the quiet heavy with the weight of everything unspoken. Then, she heard the soft sound of Hawks’ footsteps fading away, the rustle of his wings as he moved further from the door.

Y/N stayed in the bathroom a little longer, letting the cool water run over her skin as she tried to push the feeling of weakness away. It didn’t help. It didn’t make her feel better. But it was enough to keep the cracks hidden—for now.

And for now, that was enough.

Y/N sat curled up on the couch, the soft hum of the room surrounding her as she stared at her phone. Her fingers hovered just above the screen, uncertain of the message she was about to send. The weight of the words felt heavier than they should have, each letter a small step towards a truth she wasn’t sure she was ready to share. She had told herself she needed to keep moving forward, even if it meant making small, cautious confessions that felt like they could shatter her if she wasn’t careful.

Her thumb finally hovered over the keyboard, her thoughts swirling like a storm. She had to do this. She owed him that much. It was important to let him know, even if it hurt. She knew the truth couldn’t stay hidden forever, even if it made her feel like she was standing on shaky ground.

Y/N: “Hey, Izuku. Just wanted to let you know… I’m not living with my brother anymore. I’m in the process of moving. Not sure where yet, but I’ll figure it out soon.”

She paused after pressing the send button, staring at the words, almost willing them to dissolve into the screen. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth, either. She could already feel the weight of what she had left out—how everything had changed between her and her brother, how things had escalated to the point where leaving was the only option. She had done what she could to keep it vague, to make it seem like just a change in living arrangements. But the truth was, she had fled. And there was no going back.

There was so much more she wanted to say—so many details about why things had shifted. But the words felt too dangerous. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him, not yet. Not when there was still too much hurt, too many unanswered questions swirling in her mind. The memory of her brother’s betrayal lingered like a dark shadow she couldn’t shake. She couldn’t risk him finding her again. Not after everything he had done.

The phone buzzed in her hand, and she instinctively picked it up. Izuku’s reply came through quickly, filled with concern and care that she could feel even through the cold glass of the screen.

Izuku: “Y/N, are you okay? If you need a place to stay or anything—”

Her breath hitched as she read his message. She knew he meant well. Izuku was one of the kindest people she knew, and his offer was genuine, his concern evident in every word. But she couldn’t bring herself to accept it. Not yet. She appreciated the offer, but it wasn’t something she could take from him, not when her whole world was falling apart and she didn’t know how to put it back together. She didn’t want to drag him into this mess, not with everything going on. Not with the chaos that still clung to her like a second skin.

Y/N: “I’m fine, Izuku. Don’t worry about me.”

The words tasted like ash in her mouth. She knew she was lying, but it was easier this way. Easier to pretend everything was okay, to play the part of someone who had it all together when the truth was far more complicated. It wasn’t just about moving anymore. It was about the fact that she couldn’t go back to the life she had known, that everything felt unfamiliar now. The only thing that was certain was the weight of her own loneliness, the knowledge that no matter how much she told herself she didn’t need anyone, a part of her still yearned for something more. Someone who could understand, someone who could help her carry the weight of all the things she couldn’t say.

She sighed softly, placing the phone down beside her as she leaned back against the couch. The silence in the room was almost suffocating, the stillness of the space reminding her of how small and isolated she felt in the world. She couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that she didn’t belong here, that this wasn’t where her story was supposed to end. She needed to keep moving, to keep putting one foot in front of the other, even if it meant walking a path she couldn’t fully see.

As she sat there, her mind drifted to Hawks and his words from earlier. “I’m here if you need anything.” She hadn’t given him the satisfaction of a response, had brushed him off as though his offer didn’t matter. But deep down, she wondered if she had made the right choice. He had been kind to her, too, had seen something in her that she wasn’t sure anyone else had. It was easy to shut people out when you were used to being alone, but there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when she felt the weight of her solitude and wished it didn’t have to be this way.

She looked at her phone again, seeing Izuku’s name on the screen. He had replied once more, his message so sincere it almost made her heart ache.

Izuku: “I’m really glad you’re doing okay. I hope we both pass the exam. And remember… you don’t have to face everything alone.”

Y/N’s fingers lightly touched the screen, her heart tightening as she read the words. There was so much in that simple message—so much kindness and understanding, and yet it felt like a reminder of everything she didn’t want to acknowledge. She had spent so long convincing herself that she was strong enough to face things on her own, that she didn’t need anyone’s help. But Izuku’s message struck a chord deep within her. It made her question whether she was really strong enough to do it all alone, or if maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there who could help her carry the weight of it all.

Y/N: “Thanks, Izuku. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

She hit send and set the phone back down beside her, the weight of his words still lingering in her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she wasn’t okay, that the world felt like it was spinning too fast, and she couldn’t keep up. But in that moment, she also realized that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry it all alone. The thought was both comforting and terrifying.

The room was quiet again, the hum of the world outside pressing in against the stillness of her small space. Y/N glanced around, feeling like an outsider in her own life. She wasn’t sure where she was going or what the next step would be. She didn’t know if she could rebuild everything from the ground up. The uncertainty stretched out before her like an endless horizon, but she couldn’t stand still. She couldn’t remain here, in this moment, forever. She had to keep moving.

And yet, as much as she told herself that she was fine, that she could handle things alone, a small part of her couldn’t ignore the truth: maybe she didn’t have to. Maybe there was room in her life for someone else to help carry the burden, even if that someone was just a friend.

For now, that thought was enough to keep her moving forward.