scrapipi

[allpromarlo]

every year or so i take a peek into what’s going on in kpop and every year i understand less

[librapjmx]

remember, my love | o1

summary: after a car accident the love of your life loses his memory. you’re deciding to keep shut about your relationship and make him remember your relationship on his own. somehow, you start to regret not telling him in first place

member: hoseok x reader

"Accidents sometimes affect a patient's mind so much that they either lose their memory or remember things very faintly."

You took a deep breath at the words of the doctor while squeezing the hand of Hoseok's mother from behind. She was sitting on the chair and you stood behind her, comforting her in the doctor's consulting room. You bit your lip as your gaze dropped to his father's place who was sitting next to his wife.

"Medically, this state is called retrograde amnesia. Patients like them lead a normal life, but they can't remember their past..." he stopped mid-sentence as he took a deep breath preparing on how to tell you, "That's just what happened to your son."

"Doctor, please just tell us what he has!" Hosoek's mother sobbed in pain.

The doctor bit his lower lip as he took a pen to play along. Indeed, he was slightly nervous and was worried about your reactions but as a doctor, he must tell you even if it's the worst news he can give to you.

"He lost his memory."

The whole world stopped right in front of you and your smile dropped. The smile which was caused by Hoseok's eyes moving and opening while you held his hand tightly. Just as he pecked his eyes open you ran up to the doctor, yelling out of happiness. It's insane how fast one's emotions can change by single words. Your vision became blurry and you stepped back, your back hitting the wall behind you.

"He doesn't remember me? His parents? His sister? Anyone?" You mumbled, your hand reaching out to the chair in front of you. You felt yourself getting dizzy as you supported yourself on the chair from not passing out.

"With great difficulty, we have convinced him that you are his family." He added, trying to make you all feel slightly better.

"Doctor, when will he regain his memory?" His sister Dawon asked, sounding extremely calm which was slightly penetrating. The day you told her about his accident she went crazy and threw all the things around her in anger and sorrow. She was crying her eyeballs out and now, she was calm which made you worry about her.

"It might take days, months or even years or maybe he will never regain his memory at all. He might have to spend a lifetime in this state. Nothing can be said for sure." The doctor was switching gazes between you four.

"We do try to make patients regain their memory by reminding them of past incidents. But you must be careful. Keep in mind that the slightest bit of pressure on his mind can drive him insane! He could suffer a brain hemorrhage. He could even die!" His tone was deadly serious, and he didn't mind telling you this ugly truth to protect his patient.

You closed your eyes as you let the tears fall, making you feel the pain even harder. You felt like it was your fault.

"If possible, take him to a place where his memories lay. His hometown, anywhere. Try to remind him of any old incidents." Suddenly, the doctor laid his eyes on you. Your heart jumped in fear as you realized that you were part of his past. You would be part of his future as well but now that you're not even in his past you must be a part of his present. But, can you tell him that you are his girlfriend? Would it cause damage? You didn't want to cause more harm and damage than he already had to go through.

"When will he be discharged?" You asked, trying to sound as calm as possible.

"He still has to recover fully but it will take at least two to three days." He nodded. You all left the office with sad expressions written all over your faces. In front of Hoseok's door, his best friend Namjoon waited. Once you made eye contact with Namjoon you smiled faintly. Before Hoseok's mother went in you held her back.

You thought deeply about this and weren't sure if you had to or if it was a decision you made abruptly. No matter what, you wanted him to be healthy and happy again even if his happiness excluded you.

"I don't want to tell him that I'm his girlfriend. Not now." You said, looking at the ground. You felt Namjoon's gaze on you as Hoseok's mother nodded, wanting to see her son as soon as possible. Indeed, you knew that this was the last thing she had to worry about now. No matter how much his parents like you, their son is more precious than anything else in this world. You knew that they are accepting and tolerant of your decision and that they never ask why. As for now, it was important for you to keep them shut about your relationship. The two of them went in and you looked up into the questioning gazes of Dawon and Namjoon.

"What are you doing? How can you not tell him something important like that?" Dawon furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

"You two shared five years together, you can't just erase those memories just because he can't remember." Namjoon stood up from the chair on which he was sitting on.

"I won't erase them," you assured him and turned around to the door as you looked through the small window, seeing him trying to smile at his parents, "I don't want to pressure him in spending time with me. For him, a stranger. I don't want him to come to our shared flat and make him sleep next to a person which he has no feelings or connections with." You felt your throat burning as you wanted to cry out all the pain.

"Bullshit!" Dawon exclaimed and grabbed your shoulder to turn you around.

"Hoseok was head over heels for you! He won't forget the love of his life and the girl he wanted to propose to if it weren't for that fucking accident!" Her voice was quiet hoarse as if she was about to break down. Your heart dropped as you remembered the night where his accident happened.

He called you, telling you that he wanted to meet you badly. You were working and happy that your shift was ending in a couple of hours. If it weren't for you to ask him to pick you up, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Perhaps, the two of you would be snuggling up to each other. Now, you knew why he was so nervous when he called you. At the same time, he sounded so happy and joyful. If it weren't for that accident you two would've made plans for your marriage.

He wanted to propose ...

You started to chuckle loudly, in between sobs and cries, not sure how to feel about this whole situation right now. You turned around to the window, your hands reaching out to him but only touching the cold glass of the window. He shouldn't be lying there. You bit your lip as your gaze landed on your hand, examining the ring finger where his proposal ring should be lying on. The ache in your heart was indescribable. You wanted to cry, but no tears left your eyes. Instead, you started smiling widely as you turned around to Namjoon and Dawon.

"I don't know what destiny decided. If we are really meant for each other or not." You looked at Dawon, "Hoseok has lost his memory and since I and his love for me are part of his memory, he will most likely forget about me as well." Biting your lip, you furrowed your eyebrows.

"If our love is meant to be then I'm sure that fate will bring us together again. If I really have a special place in his heart he will remember me. I'm sure he will. But I want him to decide at the end." You clarified, sounding determined about your decision.

"But what if..." Namjoon started but you shut him off by holding out your hand and shaking your head. You knew that if anything goes wrong and he doesn't love you again, you must let him go.

"Just please accept my decision for now. I don't want to pressure him. I just want him to fall in love with me again and not being forced to love me just because we tell him that I'm his girlfriend." The two of them nodded quite frustrated because they didn't want you to suffer from heartbreak if life chooses a different direction for him.

You turned around again and opened the door, going into the nursing room. He heard someone entering the room and investigated your direction. His eyes lit up and you smiled softly at him which he tried to return.

"Hey, Hoseok" Dawon waved her hands at him and took his hands in hers. She grinned widely at him, her eyes were red from crying as she looked at his face.

"Dawon" He breathed out and for a slight moment you thought that he regained his memory, but you remembered the doctor saying that they convinced him of who his family is. She wrapped her fragile arms around his neck as she hugged him wholeheartedly. Slowly, she leaned back and stepped back, letting him get to know you and Namjoon.

"Hoseok, that's Namjoon. Your best friend." Namjoon didn't know what to do and he felt slightly embarrassed about his behavior. After all, it's really his best friend. Nonetheless, Hoseok gave Namjoon a wide smile in return as he nodded. Once his eyes land on you, his smile dropped, and he cleared his throat. Everyone had their gazes on you and waited for your answer, curiously.

"I'm Y/N ..." you mumbled, feeling the tears coming up and your throat burning from holding them back, "We're friends." He just nodded and tried to smile which didn't happen at all. You felt his stare not leaving your direction and you hoped that he tried to remember you. Little did you know that it wasn't happening.

"I, I will leave now. I'll visit you tomorrow again." You reached out your hand for Hoseok to shake it, but he remained confused. When he realized your gesture he hesitantly grabbed it. His warmth was giving you the relaxing feeling which he always gave you. When you came home from work, a little affection and skinship would be enough to calm your senses. Now, you had to start to relax on your own. Now, you had to get used to deal with situations on your own.

"I'll drop you at home," Namjoon said and you nodded, saying your goodbyes to his parents.

You and Namjoon left the hospital quietly, not talking to each other while hopping into his car. He grabbed the steering wheel firmly as he focused on the road. The thought of his best friend losing his memory, was a miserable feeling. He felt powerless and hoped for his best friend to recover as soon as possible. To remember the old times, their childhood and their friendship.

"He will be okay..." you assured him, trying to calm him down since you felt him being tense overall. He chuckled, the sorrow was written in his cracking voice.

"I hope so."

Somehow, you felt a little selfish. Of course, the first thing you want is Hoseok to regain his memory. Nonetheless, it was an awful accident and he was lucky to survive. Him living is more important than him loving you. If he takes his breath, in and out, you'll be able to love him. You'll be able to see him anytime you want to.

"We have to be there for him, no matter what. We must help him regain his memory and remember all the beautiful moments we all shared together. He always made sure to give us hope and now, it's our turn to give him hope in recovering." You said, seeing your shared house with Hoseok from your angle.

"He is so lucky to have you..." Namjoon breathed out after he stopped the car in front of your flat.

"To be honest, I'm lucky to have him." You smiled at Namjoon, thanking him for dropping you home. You got out of the car and waved to him as he drove off.

Taking a deep breath, you turned around, slowly. You started at your door, approaching it while you remembered the time you agreed in moving together. He was so joyous and gleeful that he started looking for a flat. You left it for him to decide because you trusted his taste and eventually you started loving the one he chooses. You opened the door and felt the warmth surrounding your body as soon as you stepped a foot in your home.

Your shared home.

-

"Did you pack all of your belongings?" Namjoon asked through the phone speaker, you could hear the hurry in his voice.

"Yes, I'm waiting for you." You said as he assured you that he would be picking you up in less than 20 minutes.

You weren't going on a holiday trip or on a business trip. You were leaving with Hoseok and his family to his hometown. Gwangju.

A  couple days after his recovery, Hoseok's father decided to leave for  his hometown in hope to have him regain his memory again. Gwangju is  where his childhood lays and where his memories began. You pretty much  knew everything about him but no details about his past life, you didn't  ask him because you didn't think his past was necessary at all since  you loved the present Hoseok.

Of course, you wanted to help him  regain his memories and on the top of that, you couldn't let him go all  alone since you had a mission. The mission, to make him love you again.  Love ...

Your phone vibrated, signaling you to come out to leave.  Namjoon and you drove separately from the Jung family. The distance from  Seoul to Gwangju was far that's why you booked tickets to fly for less  than an hour to his hometown.

"You got everything?" Namjoon asked  while he helped you put the suitcases in the luggage space. You nodded,  smiling widely at him.

"Have you ever been to Gwangju?" Namjoon asked, focusing on the road in front of him.

"Before  his parents moved to Seoul we went there a few times. But the last time  was probably two years ago." You stared at your fingers which were  laying on your lap while you played with them.

"Are you worried?"  He asked, noticing the tension between you two. You and Namjoon were  good friends since you started dating Hoseok. He always supported you  two and helped you to get along with each other. Even when both of your  had arguments and didn't talk to each other, he made sure to bring both  of you together. He always was a helping hand, as a friend for you and  as a brother for Hoseok. That's why you hoped for the two of them to get   used to each other again.

"I'm fine." You lied. You weren't fine at all. Not when Hoseok was suffering and forgetting about his past.

You  got out of the car and took your luggage before you went to the airport  to meet the others at the check-in. From behind you saw Hoseok and his  sister talking to each other. He was laughing at something she said.  Something in your stomach started twirling at the sight of his  expressions, the way he laughed wholeheartedly at her. After the day  where the doctor told you that he is suffering from amnesia, you made  sure to visit him as long as he had to be hospitalized. You tried to  keep the contact, calling him and asking how he was. Just like two  strangers. After they decided to leave Seoul for Gwangju, you left  everything behind and agreed in accompanying them. That was a good way  to spend time with him.

You greeted his parents after Namjoon and  you gave the check-in your luggage and took your boarding pass. Turning  around to Dawon, you wrapped your arms around her and hugged her  tightly.

"I'm glad you will accompany us." She whispered into your ear and leaned back.

You  turned to Hoseok, smiling at him while he gave you a wide smile. He  didn't change at all. He was always so warm and gentle towards other  people.

"Destination: Gwangju. All passengers on Korean Air must  go to the gate. The plane will begin boarding in 10 minutes." The woman  called out from the speakers and all of you gathered around the  departures lounge to find the right gate, written on your boarding pass.

After  getting on the plane you sat down, right next to Namjoon who was on the  side of the window. When you turned your head to look behind you, you  saw Hoseok sitting right behind you, on the other side. He was next to  his sister and stared down at the phone, swiping left and right.  Probably looking at some pictures. Your eyes meet Dawon's who started  mouthing some words. You furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what  she was referring to. Then she started pointing towards your seat and  hers. You observed the people next to you, signaling yourself that she  was referring to you and wanted to switch seats. You shook your head   hesitantly, but she stood up.

"Y/N, let's switch seats, I have to  talk to Namjoon!" She lied, passing by Hoseok and running up to you. You  shook your head, but she grabbed your arms as she helped you up. Once  you were on your feet, she pushed you to sit down, giving the confused  Namjoon a wide smile.

"The passengers are asked to sit down and  take their seatbelts on. Ready for takeoff!" The speaker said, and you  had no other chance than to sit down next to Hoseok who was just as  confused as Namjoon. You sighed, letting yourself fall into the seat  while putting on your seatbelt.

"As a friend, you're not that happy to be able to sit next to me..." Hoseok chuckled, concentrating on the seatbelt.

"No,  it's not like that. It's just-" you stopped mid-sentence, trying to  think of a good answer. To be honest, you didn't know why you were  afraid of facing him- "It's just that I don't want you to feel  uncomfortable."

"Nah, I'm good." He clarified, staring into your eyes with a huge grin, "We're friends after all."

Friends.

You  nodded, smiling a little at him. You had to get easier next to him,  simply calmer and more comfortable. After all, he still was the man whom  you love. It felt strange to not be able to hold his hands or kiss him  whenever you want.

"Y/N?" Ah, the way he said your name was music to your ears.

"Hm?"

"Can  you tell me something about us?" He plainly asked, not hesitating. As  much as you were afraid of this question, you waited for it to come out.  That day was today. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you turned  around to him.

"Us?" Oh, I could tell you so much about us.

He  nodded. You didn't want to lie to him so much and maybe your real  encounter would help him to remember even the slightest bit. The only  lie he will think of a truth as is you being his "friend".

"We,"  Using the pronoun to specify the two of you and reassuring that there is  something between you to, means a lot to you, "As if it was planned by  fate." You started, thinking back to the time where you left the huge  building in which you were working in.

Walking up to the coffee  shop in which you were always spending your lunch break. You were  working on in a radio show as a radio presenter in 'iwishradio'. It was a  tough week since a huge scandal broke down and with that two actors got  married and you tried everything to get them to your radio show for  more quotas and listeners.

Once you entered the shop, you  were greeted by the part-time worker Yunji who was a high-school senior,  trying to earn money for her college entry. You smiled at her, stopping  behind a man who was ordering his coffee. You looked up at his head  from behind. He seemed to be very tall that's why you stepped aside to  have a look at the sweets they were selling along with the coffee.

"That's 5,000 Won, Mister," Yunji said, pushing the buttons on the cash register and waiting for the man to pay.

When  it took too long you decided to side eye the man who was touching his  chest and went through his jacket. You looked up and stared up at him,  wondering what the issue was. He let out an embarrassed chuckle.

"Where  is my purse-" he grabbed into his pockets, not finding anything- "I'm  sure I've brought it with myself..." His head turned to the side, noticing  that someone stood by. At that moment, his blood rushed up to his  cheeks, shading it in a soft pink as his eyes met your confused ones.

"Ah, excuse me, please go on until I find my purse." He stuttered in a small panicky voice.

You bowed slightly, thanking him for letting you get your coffee.

"Yunji,  I'll take the Americano as always." You said, turning around to the man  who was still struggling to find his purse. You pulled out your own  purse and turned around to Yunji, handing her money.

"Can  you take the Misters coffee on me?" You asked, handing her more money to  pay the coffee of the struggling man. You turned around to the man and  smiled, "It once happened to me as well, so don't worry about it."

He  bowed his head and smiled softly, slightly embarrassed "Thank you.  Please let me pay you back-" you cut him off, reaching for the two  coffee cups and handing him one- "Don't worry about it. It's okay, it's  on me."

He grabbed the coffee, biting his lip as he felt himself getting even more awkward.  

You  looked at your wrist, checking the time, "I have to leave already!  Enjoy your coffee, Mister!" You took off, realizing that you had an  interview ahead which you couldn't attend late. Once you reached the  building you ran up the stairs of the huge building, reaching the  presenters' room. You took a sip of your coffee as you sat down on your  chair, placing the earbuds on your ears. You stared at your director,  waiting for their signal for your start.

He had a wide grin on his face, enjoying the story you told him.

"That's  it?" He asked when you stopped telling him about the rest. You ��swallowed hard because after that it wasn't fate who brought you  together. It was the choice of you two over time, but you didn't know  how to tell him that in a non-romantic way.

The next day was a   cold winter day. It wasn't snowing but rather was it outstandingly windy  and the sky was dark and grey as if it was about to rain on the first  day of February. Showing you that winter is slowly disappearing. You  pressed your coat tightly against your chest as you entered the coffee  shop.

"The same?" Yunji as you gave her a slight nod,  rubbing your hands together. Just as you wanted to pay her, someone  reached out to the cashier and handed her the money. A shadow appeared  next to you and you looked to your side. That's when you noticed the man  from yesterday. Your mouth dropped as you wanted to say something.

"It's on me today." He smiled, taking the cup of coffee to hand it to you. You smiled as you gladly accepted his repay.

"Thanks."  Nodding, you went up to an empty chair next to the huge window,  watching the people passing by. Slowly, you started nipping at your  coffee as you examined the sky, getting a feeling that it will rain any  minute soon.

You were brought back to reality once you  heard a chair being pulled back and the man from earlier sitting down in  front of you.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned back, "Excuse me?" You mumbled, not sure of what he wanted from you.

"It's  sad to see people sitting alone, I like to accompany them-" he  clarified, bringing his coffee up to his mouth as he stared out the  window to watch the people.

You opened your mouth but  closed it right away, not knowing what to say. It was a gentle move of  him and talking down to that would be no good, so you let it slide. You  had a cheeky smile plastered on your face as you looked out the window,  not wanting him to see your smile.

"Oh," your eyes widened  in confusion as the first raindrops fell on the window, "Isn't it too  soon to rain already?" you questioned, sighing. How will you be able to  walk in the rain without getting wet?

"Then, I will get   going first," you said, standing up. When you reach the building, you   had to make sure to get plenty of time to dry. You said your goodbye to Yunji as you stood in front of the entry, wondering how you will reach your destiny.

"Why did you make it rain now?" You looked  up at the sky, obviously talking to God in your sorrow. You didn't want  to get wet but still, you had to appear on time.

"Okay.  Close your eyes and run!" You mumbled to yourself. Just as you wanted to  shut your eyes, you saw an umbrella opening in front of you. You winced  since you were startled by the sudden move. Once you looked up, you saw  the man from earlier holding an umbrella above you.

"Where are you heading to? I will accompany you." He said, staring straight into your eyes. He sure was a head taller than you.

"Ah, Mister, you really don't have to do that-" he cut you off.

"You  will be soaked in water if you don't take the chance to reach your  destiny dryly." He had a huge grin on his lips as watched you biting  your lower lip.

"Iwishradio station." You swallowed hard  as you turned your head, embarrassed to look into his eyes since his  face was too close for your pleasure. He nodded as the two of you left  for your workplace.

"Are you working there?" He asked and you nodded.

"I'm a radio presenter of iwishradio." You added and his eyes lit up.

"Oh!  Are you perhaps Y/F/N?" Your name left his lips so casually and you  felt how your heart jumped at his excitement. You nodded.

"I  love your format. The interview, your topics, it's so entertaining and  nice to listen to your decent voice." He started praising your show and  you felt your cheeks heat up at the compliment.

"Thank you for listening..." you mumbled in a soft voice.

You  reached the building fast and you wondered if you were at your  workplace this fast as well or if it was the illusion of time passing  fast.

"Thank you for your company. In the shop and until here..." you bowed slightly.

He  pulled out his hand before you left, "Hoseok. Jung Hoseok." Your eyes  landed on his hand as you hesitantly reached out for it. His warm hands  surrounded yours, giving you a soft feeling of affection and warmth on  this cold day. His gently squeeze was giving you the feeling that this  wouldn't be your last encounter.

You looked out the window and observed the breathtaking view of Gwangju as the plane was making itself ready to land.

"After  that, we met often in the coffee shop and eventually we became  friends." You brought a cut to your beginning, shorting it down to more  than a half and changing it. Once he will remember you will make sure  that he will remember the genuine rest himself. Until then the rest of  your encounter must be kept a secret. After that greeting and after you  two exchanging names your story began, not as friends but as more.

"You must be a really good friend." You heard Hoseok mumbling. You turned your head to look at him in confusion.

"What?"

"I  mean..." his gaze dropped down on his fingers, "Thank you!" He declared,  looking up into your eyes, "Thank you for coming all the way to my  hometown only to help me to regain my memories. I must've been a lucky  person to have friends like you and Namjoon." He said with a note of  relief, a huge smile plastered on his face. You returned his smile,  holding yourself back from hugging him. Turning your head to the window,  you watched how the plane landed on its gate.

You left the airport after taking your luggage and waiting for a  taxi. Hoseok's family wanted you to stay in their old apartment together  with them. You insisted on renting a good and cheap place, but they  disapproved that's why you and Namjoon followed their taxi. While you  and Dawon would be sharing a room, Namjoon and Hoseok would share a room  together. How you wished to be in Namjoon's position.

Once you  settled down, you started unpacking your items. Dawon decided to take  Hoseok out so she could show him a little around. You cleaned your room  and helped Dawon with her luggage. At that moment, someone knocked  lightly on the door.

"Yes?" You called out, your eyes on the clothes which you were folding and putting into the wardrobe.

You  turned around as you heard the person falling on the mattress which was  lying on the ground. Namjoon took a deep breath as if he was relieved  to finish his room up.

"What's up?" you giggled, concentrating on your clothes.

"I  finished." You saw from the corner of your eye that he turned his body  into your direction while supporting his head with his hand. "So, what's  your plan?" He questioned. You furrowed your eyebrows as you turned  around.

"Plan? What plan?" You asked.

"The 'Make Hoseok Fall In Love With Me Again'-Plan" He pointed out, showing you the question marks with his fingers.

You bit your lip and put the last clothing into the wardrobe before turning around and sitting down in front of him.

"I actually have no idea." You remarked, groaning loudly as you let your back touch the wall behind you.

"You're a genius Y/N." He suggestively eyed you in a mocking way.

"I know right!" You replied with a huge mark of sarcasm. He sighed as he sat up straight to look into your eyes.

"How  about you spend some time with him? Alone. You and him?" It didn't feel  like a statement, more like a question which he wanted to get answered.

"I'm afraid-"you admitted.

"Of what?"

"I'm afraid to face the reality." You whispered, looking blankly into the emptiness.

"What  reality? Y/N, you have to face it, to find the reality!" He encouraged  and of course you knew that he was right. You were in a long and deep  relationship with Hoseok and you're afraid that he wouldn't remember  your past at all. You were afraid of him not loving you, but your  mission was to make him love you again and that's why you had to fight.  Fight for his love.

"You're right Namjoon! I really have to do it." You said and stood up.

"Where are you going?" He asked you as you chuckled.

"I'm hungry, you're coming with me?" He was a little startled but stood up and followed you.

After  finishing your meal, you waited for Hoseok and his sister to arrive  since it was pretty late already. Tomorrow would be your day, you  thought. The doorbell rang, and you ran up to the door, greeting the  siblings who entered the house with a grin plastered on their faces.

"You're late." Hoseok's mother stated, looking at the time.

"We  caught up with someone," Dawon said and sat down next to her mother.  Dawon's mother furrowed her eyebrows as she waited for Dawon to speak.

"Kim  Chaeyeong? Do you remember her?" She asked. Mrs. Jung narrowed her eyes  as she tried to come up with a picture of a face, fitting to the name.  Once she remembered, her eyes lit up.

"Kim Chaeyeong? Hoseok's high school friend?" She said with conviction and Dawon nodded.

"And  guess what?" She looked at Hoseok who approached his mother slowly,  "Hoseok remembered her!" She beamed as his mother stared at Hoseok, eyes  filling with tears. Never in her life would she believe that Hoseok  would start doing progress in such a small amount of time. She was proud  of him.

"I just remembered her as a person in my life, but I  really don't remember what we did in the past or any other memories with  her, to be honest," Hoseok admitted, turning around to look at Namjoon  and you with a smile. You were happy about his small progress but  couldn't help but feel a little unimportant and agonized at his first  memory which was way back when you met him. You never heard of that name  in your life, so you thought that she wasn't important at all. Hoseok  would've told you about her if they were still friends even today.

"Ah  Dawon, you're tiring my son. Let him rest a little, yeah?" She  playfully hit her daughter's shoulder as she grabbed Hoseok's hand,  squeezing it firmly.

"I'm tired, to be honest." He admitted, stretching his arms.

"Let's  sleep then. Tomorrow will be a better day!" Dawon clapped in her hands  as she ran up to you and grabbed your arm to guide you to your room.  Once she entered the room, her jaw dropped down.

"Ah, my  sister-in-law is such a gracious human being. I'm lucky!" She wrapped  her arms around you before she threw herself on the mattress.

The word sister-in-law was making your heart flutter. You still pulled your index-finger in front of your lips to shush her. "Shh, he will hear!" You whispered and laid down yourself. Dawon didn't even change her clothes nor did she remove her make-up. Indeed, she was tired, and you didn't want to make a feel even more tired. You jumped into your pajamas and stared at the ceiling.

"Dawon?" You voiced in a casual tone.

"Hm?" You noticed that she was already half asleep.

"Who is Chaeyeong?" You asked her as you heard her shifting.

"Just  an old high-school friend of Hoseok" She mumbled, her face facing the  pillow, swallowing the words which left her mouth, "Don't worry. They're  just frie-" she couldn't finish her sentence since she fell asleep,  snoring softly. You giggled as you stood up to grab yourself a glass of  water.

"Hoseok?" You asked, a little startled once you entered the kitchen. He was looking out for something in the fridge.

"Y/N? Why are you still awake?" He questioned, closing the fridge.

"I wanted to grab a glass of water." You smiled, going up to the small cupboard to get yourself a cup. "What about you?"

"I,  I was hungry." He scratched his neck a little flustered about his  answer. You chuckled slightly, remembering how he always went up to the  fridge to grab a late-night snack. You nipped on the glass of water.

"Should, should I prepare something for you?" You asked hesitantly but he shook his hands in front of you.

"No, I, I will do it myself-"He started but you cut him off.

"It's not like I prepare food for you the first time at this hour..." You accidentally spluttered.

"Excuse me?" He surely was confused about your words. Your eyes widened as you realized what you've just said.

"I,  I mean we're friends. Of course, I prepared meals for you, as well as  for Namjoon and other friends and family who mean a lot to me." You're such a fool Y/N.

He  chuckled, being really overwhelmed by your decent behavior. You turned  around as you grabbed some ingredients to cook for a single person. He  was quiet, and you made him some ramen which was the fastest and easiest  meal you could prepare, to leave immediately. As if you two were  strangers, you tried to make yourself feel easier and comfortable around  him without getting flustered at all.

"Thank you, Y/N!" He sat down, grabbing the chopsticks.

"Enjoy your meal!" You mumbled, smiling softly at him which he returned.

Before you left, you turned around again. "Hoseok?"

"Hm?"

"Can  you perhaps leave an empty space in your busy schedule-" You looked up  into his eyes –" For me?" Biting your lip, you waited for his answer. He  giggled softly.

"With pleasure." He breathed out, smiling widely at you.

"Thank you!" The huge grin on your face wasn't leaving as you went back into your room, lying down on the mattress.

Everything will be fine ...

The  next morning you woke up to Dawon, throwing her clothes from one side  to the other side of the room. Just as you wanted to sit up straight,  you were thrown by a cloth on your face. Wincing at the sudden darkness,  you sighed as you grabbed the cloth and threw it back to Dawon.

"What are you doing this early?" You rubbed your eyes after you looked at the time which showed 7am.

"The earlier one wakes up, the better the day gets." She pointed out as you stood up.

"Bullshit!  My day was never good when I woke up at 6am for school!" You clarified  and scratched your back, bending down a little. You narrowed your eyes,   trying to get used to the light which surrounded you as you fully   concentrated on the scratch on your back.

"Morning girls!" You   heard Hoseok's voice from behind you, making you jump from his sudden   appearance. You felt the heat rising and your cheeks redden. Normally,   you wouldn't think about it and start being your casual self next to him  but now, you two were only friends who try to build up their   relationship.

"M-Morning!" You greeted him, but he was already  gone. You heard soft laughter from behind you and turned around to Dawon  who was hiding her face from laughing too much.

"What's so funny?" You asked, stepping closer to her.

"Well, you two don't feel like a normal couple-"you cut her off, throwing your hands in the air.

"Well,  excuse me. My boyfriend lost his memory." She shook her head at your  statement and turned around to look for a nice outfit.

"Yah! The  yellow shirt in your hand is mine!" You called out before leaving the  room to take a warm shower and changing into some nice and comfy  clothes.

The breakfast table was surrounded by every family  member, enjoying their meal comfortably. You sat down next to Mrs. Jung  as you started eating. Nobody talked while eating, making the  comfortable enjoyment turn into an awkward atmosphere. Suddenly, the  doorbell rang. Just as you wanted to stand up, Hoseok held out his hand,  stopping you.

"It's probably Chaeyeong. She wanted to hang out with me-" He put the last bit in his mouth before leaving the table.

You  licked your lips as you pressed them together, watching his empty seat.  Your gaze went to Namjoon, noticing the confusion in his expressions.

That's  exactly how all the other days went by. It was either Hoseok spending  time with Chaeyong or Chaeyong with him. He was barely home and forgot  about his promise. Even though you asked him about the empty space, he  promised to spend time with you the next day. On the next day, he was  again busy with his high-school friend. If this was helping him to  regain his memory, then you didn't want to stop him. He was getting  happier and each day he remembered the old times in Gwangju and you  hoped for him to remember the past in Seoul, so you would appear again.  The woman he wanted to propose to.

One day you went into his room and leaned on the doorframe. He was texting on his phone, smiling widely at the screen.

"Hoseok?" You mumbled, approaching him slowly.

He looked up and lifted his eyebrows.

"Can  I take you away tomorrow?" You asked and waited for his answer. Little  did you know that he would cancel. Just as you wanted to turn around, he  chuckled.

"Sure thing!" Your eyes widened.

"Oh, ok!" you exclaimed and turned around.

Finally,  a day where the two of you could spend some time together. It wasn't as  if you two never talked to each other within these days. He was still  coming home, and you shared funny and joyful moments. Watching series  and dramas and even playing games with each other but not just the two  of you. It was always another family member of him who joined in. His  promise was an opportunity to let you two be alone.

You prepared a   picnic-date and told Namjoon to prepare beforehand. He woke up early   and went to the park to create a beautiful atmosphere while you picked   your outfit. Today was a nice weather and a warm day. That's why you   decided to wear a spring dress. Casual but cute and it was Hoseok's   favorite dress on you. A white dress with the purple pattern. He knocked  on your door and you turned around.

He stopped in astonishment,  staring at you as if he was thinking about something. You stood in front  of him, quietly, not trying to break his thoughts or the memories  connected with this dress. He furrowed his eyebrows and had a soft smile  plastered on his face. Just as you wanted to ask him what he thought  about, he shook his head.

"C'mon!" He exclaimed and turned around again.

You'll remember me Hoseok. You'll remember us!

He  took the bicycle and hopped on it. You sat behind him and hesitantly  wrapped your arms around his stomach. Slowly, you let your head lean on  his shoulder as you remembered the times the two of you bicycled  together. Sometimes he was picking you up with his bicycle from work and  the other days you were admiring the view. After telling him the  destination he drove off.

"So Hoseok, I hope you like picnicking!" You exclaimed from behind and heard a soft giggle from his lips.

"I  love that" he chuckled and from behind you saw the set picnic. To be  honest, if it weren't for the help of Namjoon then you wouldn't be able  to do that all.

You hopped off the bicycle and led him to the  small picnic-blanket, opening the casket and pulling out small meals  you've prepared. Actually, you didn't feel like eating at all, but you  just wanted his company. He let out a deep sigh as he let himself fall  on the blanket, lying down as he watched the sky.

"Such a  beautiful sight... at those time I really am thankful to be alive" he  mumbled and smiled as you watched him admiringly. You lied down, your  faces next to each other even though your bodies looked into opposite  directions. Indeed, it was so astonishing and beautiful.

"Look at  these birds, leaving their hometown and moving in a new direction to  start a new life, a new journey at their new place..." you mumbled,  examine the sky as you pointed at the birds which you were referring to.

"And  a new story..." Hoseok added and you turned your head to look at him, a  wide smile plastered on your face. "Like mine." Your smile dropped  faintly as you cleared your throat. His eyes weren't leaving the sky,  "After losing my memory, I am also moving in a new direction. I  sometimes wonder what my past was like. Was it better than what I have  now? Or did I lose something precious?" He chuckled, turning his head to  you, "And then, I laugh it off. What is lost, is not coming back. And  what I have, I don't want to lose."

He was looking deep into your soul and you were hoping that with the last part he meant you.

"Sometimes  the past doesn't return. What's left are our memories. And if there is  lying someone precious in your memories, then I'm sure they'll return to  your life." You assured him, hoping to give him a signal for a memory  in his past which both of you shared.

You two stood in the   position of only staring at each other until the grumbling of his   stomach broke the eye contact. The atmosphere filled with soft giggles   from you two and he stood up straight. He turned around to look at you   as a chuckle left his lips before he spoke.

"I guess it's time to eat."

[attack-on-multifandom]

Fall on Deaf Ears

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Deaf!Reader

Warnings: cursing, bullying, angst, mentions of suicide

Summary: Katsuki Bakugou always wanted to be strong so to cover any weakness he’d bully other people such as Izuku, but what happens when a new girl who just happens to not be able to hear shows up?

A/N: Not too long I watched the movie A Silent Voice (which I really recommend if you haven’t seen it) and it really made me want to to write a similar situation with Katsuki and Reader so here it is! Also the ending is kinda angsty and ends with a cliffhanger so if you want a part two lemme know and I’ll begin to write it immediately!💖💗 Also feel free to tell me if I got anything wrong about being deaf because I really don’t want to offend anyone!💗

Prideful. Overconfident. Self-absorbed.

Those are three words that you could use to describe five year old Katsuki Bakugou.

He currently was showing off his newly gained quirk to his three followers friends, plus a shy Izuku who stood in the back gazing in awe, all the while bragging at how great it was and how no one in the kindergarten could even dream of surpassing him and his quirk.

The teacher came out indicating for the students to come inside, for class was now starting and it was this specific class that would change young Katsuki Bakugou’s life forever.

“Okay kids, before we start I would like to introduce a new student here; her name is (Y/L) (Y/N) and she just transferred here from a different kindergarten.”

You didn’t do anything but stand there with a kind smile and a nervous look in your eyes indicating your uncomfortableness at being a new kid in a different school. However, Katsuki would soon find out it was not as simple and you being new that caused your anxiety to be so extreme.

“Not only is (Y/N) here new but she is also deaf, can anyone tell me what that means?”

One of Bakugou’s so called ‘friends’ raised his hand confidently.

“Yes, Tsubasa?”

“It means she’s dumb because she can’t hear.”

The whole class laughed, save sweet Izuku of course, but Bakugou only scoffed and examined the new girl closely.

She didn’t seemed bothered by the class laughing, in fact, she began to laugh her self, the sound coming out a bit strangled and weird since she could not hear her own voice.

The whole class went silent until everyone began laughing again, the kind smile never leaving the girl’s face because of her ignorance to the reasoning of the rude laughter.

“That’s enough class and no Tsubasa that is not what being deaf means, please save your ignorance for outside of class,” the teacher scolded the winged boy who simply scoffed and began to complain to Katsuki about how the teacher just had no sense of humor.

“To be deaf means to have lost the ability to hear; sometimes it’s mild and you can still hear things with the help of a hearing aid, and sometimes it’s more severe resulting in the complete loss of audible noise,” the teacher explained.

“(Y/N) has unfortunately the more severe case where she can not hear a single thing so please do your best with her and don’t use the fact that she can not hear as an excuse to exclude and bully her.”

The young girl finally took a seat as the class officially began. She of course didn’t notice all the whispering around her as everyone began to talk about their new deaf student.

In all honestly, Bakugou could care less about you and whether you had a disability or not, all he cared about was being the best and nothing was going to stop him from achieving his dreams.

Although Bakugou didn’t care about you, that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to go out of his way to personally bully you just like he did with poor Deku.

Speaking of Midoriya, he soon became you’re only friend, spending time with you and even go as far as to learn sign language so he could communicate better with you.

You simply adored Izuku and his sweetness and always encouraged him that he would get his quirk sooner or later.

That simply was not the case for you.

Not only could you not hear, but you also were quirkless.

What an unlucky life you had.

You didn’t let that stop you from being optimistic and gracious that you at least had good parents, food, and a roof over your head. You were the epitome of kindness that made up for everything else that went wrong in your life.

———————————————————————

You distinctly remember the first day you first met Bakugou Katsuki.

You were playing on the jungle gym with Izuku, you pretending to be a princess in need of saving and him being your knight in shining armor.

You giggled, the strange sound not bothering Izuku in the slightest, he actually loved hearing you laugh because he thought you more than anyone deserved to be happy after all you had been through.

He quickly signed a ‘I am here to save you!’ As he finally reached the top of the jungle gym where you pretended you were being kidnapped.

‘My savior!’ You signed back as you both laughed and had a good time.

“Well look what we have here, a quirkless loser and a deaf quirkless loser, what a pair,” Katsuki joked as his group laughed behind him.

“Leave us alone Kacchan we haven’t done anything!” Izuku yelled feeling more defensive then usual because now you were being targeted and not just him.

A look of confusion formed on your features as you saw the distress on Izuku’s face and the smug look on Katsuki’s face.

You tapped your green haired friend on the shoulder and mouthed, ‘what’s going on?’

He sighed and shook his head as he grabbed your tiny hand and lead you off the play structure and away from the group of bullies.

“Hey where do you think you losers are going?!” Katsuki yelled as explosions began popping in his hands.

He grabbed the back of Izuku’s shirt and threw him to the ground, keeping his grip on Izuku as he began to use his explosions on him.

You watched on in horror as your friend was being attacked, tears streaming down his freckled cheeks from the pain and helpless he felt.

“Leave him alone!” You yelled the words sounding distorted as they left your mouth.

“Oh I almost forgot about deaf girl over here,” Katsuki said as he let go forcefully of Deku and began to focus his attacks on you.

“Why don’t you do us all a favor and never talk again, your voice is so annoying and no one can understand you!”

He finished his hurtful words by pushing you into the ground, his gang behind him cheering him on.

You stared at the ground for a second before you look up to Katsuki with a kind smile effectively making the young blonde’s eyes widen.

You intertwined your hands and made a forward motion with them, confusing Bakugou.

“What the crap is that suppose to mean?”

“I-It means she wants to be your friend,” Izuku muttered, his voice strained from the attack.

“Hah! As if I’d ever let such a helpless person be my friend! You’re useless not only can’t you hear but you don’t even have a quirk you’re just a waste of space and don’t you forget that!”

He pushed you one last time and left with his other two friends leaving you alone with Izuku.

He turned to you with guilty green eyes and immediately apologized for not being able to protect you.

You didn’t blame him at all neither did you blame Katsuki because you knew it was because of his own problems that he bullied you and you made it your personal goal to be friend him and help him with his issues.

——————————————————————

6 years later

With each passing year you tried becoming friends with Katsuki only to fail and be bullied.

He usually only verbally hurt you calling you useless and making fun of your lack of hearing, however sometimes he would take to physically hurting you either by pushing you or using his explosions.

He just couldn’t stand the kind smile on your face afterwards and the open gesture of friendship you would always extend to him.

Katsuki Bakugou couldn’t stand you and hated having to even go to the same school as you.

It was the first day of middle school and you did your usual walk with Izuku, six years never changing your friendship except that it was now even stronger then it was before.

You signed and joked as you made your way into the new middle school building.

As soon as you entered, a loud explosion went off in both yours and Izuku’s face, sending you both to the floor.

Loud laughter followed soon after that you could only tell by the way Bakugou’s eyes closed and his mouth widened.

“Wow it’s too fucking easy to send you guys flying now a days, are you both getting weaker or am I just getting stronger?” Bakugou boasted with a prideful smirk, causing Izuku to sigh and offer you a hand up.

‘Are you okay?’ He signed and you offered him a soft smile as you signed back, ‘I’m okay Izuchan thanks for asking.’

The green haired boy smiled back at you.

You offered Bakugou a small wave as you and Izuku began to walk away.

Bold of you both to assume he was going to let that happen.

For some reason when he saw you give Deku that soft smile and watched you both communicate in way that he couldn’t understand, it made his stomach churn and his heart feel weird.

He had never experienced this before and he didn’t like it which only made him angrier.

“Hey come back here you fucking weaklings!” Bakugou yelled while his ‘friends’ tried to tell him it wasn’t worth it.

It was fucking worth it if Katsuki Bakugou said it was worth it.

You and Izuku turned around only for you to be knocked down again, this time only you and surprisingly not Deku.

“Aren’t you gonna fucking say something or make that damn shitty offer to be friends, huh?!”

After all these years you had gotten pretty decent at reading Bakugou’s lips even through all the yelling.

It also gave you the excuse to look at Bakugou’s lips.

You understood every word he said which made your eyes widen in surprise.

Did he want you to ask him to be your friend?

Thinking that’s what he meant, you signed the gesture for friendship with a sweet smile on your face.

Immediately after he set explosions off on you causing parts of your shirt to be burnt and making you look like a mess.

Bakugou stood there and laughed his ass off as he walked away from the sad scene.

His heart now felt full and empty and the same time, a feeling he definitely decided to ignore.

———————————————————————

4 years later

Middle school was coming to an end and it was almost time for high school to start.

‘So Izuchan, have you applied for U.A. yet?’ You signed excitedly for you hoped your best friend would get into the school he dreamed of going to for a while now.

‘Not yet but I’m definitely going to soon,’ He signed back as you both entered the classroom.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t the most useless dorks in class,” a familiar brash voice spoke, not that you could tell how low and loud it was, but you did have a feeling that how it would sound if you could hear it.

“Kacchan could you please leave us alone for just one day,” Izuku muttered under his breath.

“Huh?! Wanna say that a bit louder shitty Deku?!”

You placed a gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder and shook you’re head as if to tell him, ‘it’s not worth it.’

The freckled boy nodded and smiled at you as you grabbed his hand and began to lead him forward.

As soon as you tried to move, Bakugou stuck his leg out and you ended up tripping over it causing the class to erupt in laughter.

For some reason you weren’t feeling too kind in that moment and abruptly stood up and pushed Bakugou back.

Oh how stupid that decision was.

Explosions began to pop out of his hands in anger as he got ready to give you the worst burns of your life, but his plans soon came to a stop as the teacher walked in and made everyone go to their seats.

Bakugou glared at you as you sat down and mouthed, ‘after class I’m going to fucking burn you so bad you’ll think before even touching me next time.’

You felt no fear at his words only sadness.

You truly wanted to be friends with Katsuki, maybe even more, you didn’t want to make him angry or upset.

Class was long that day, the only disturbance really being when Izuku stated he wanted to go to U.A. and Bakugou made fun of him, but that was just the calm before the storm.

After class, Izuku said he had to go to the restroom before you guys left together so you agreed to wait for him out in the hallway.

You looked to your right to see Bakugou and his gang laughing while a girl leaned on him and seemed to laugh at everything he said.

Who was that girl, was it Katsuki’s girlfriend?

You wouldn’t be surprised if he had one after all he was very attractive and had a great quirk, but it still hurt to even think of that possibility.

Soon Bakugou realized you were looking at him and oh dear we’re you in for it now; he hadn’t at all forgotten that morning’s exchange.

“YOU!” He yelled loudly as he began to make his way towards you.

He was too far away for you to read his lips as you began to back away from his threatening form.

He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the wall forcing a strangled scream from your throat.

“YOU FUCKING USELESS DEAF BITCH, YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN PUSH ME AROUND CAUSE YOU FUCKING CANT; IM THE BEST AND I WILL BECOME THE NUMBER ONE HERO WHY DONT YOU DO THE WORLD A FAVOR AND TAKE A SWAN DIVE OFF THE ROOF AND PRAY YOU’LL BE BORN WITH A QUIRK AND PROPER EARS IN THE NEXT LIFE!”

Silence followed after that as you just looked down at the ground.

Katsuki Bakugou had just told you to commit suicide.

All the other insults you could take even if they did slowly eat away at your mental health, but this, this really did hurt.

Tears began to spill down your cheeks as you dropped to the floor.

Poor Izuku who was clueless walking to the scene immediately ran to your side and kneeled down next you.

“Kacchan what did you do!” He yelled out as he brought you close to him.

Bakugou remained silent as he watched you weep violently on the floor.

After all those years of insults and pushing you around, you had never once cried.

You would always smile that dumb smile that he liked hated, and then you would just go about your way.

His heart pulsed painfully in his chest as he continued to watch you cry.

His hands wanted to move to move to wipe away your incoming tears but he did no such thing.

He wanted to take back what he said knowing he went way too far but he did no such thing.

He turned around hearing Deku yelling but that wasn’t was caused him to turn around, no, what did was the sound of your voice.

“All I wanted was to be your friend.”

And that would be that last time Katsuki saw you.

It would be another six years before he laid his crimson eyes on you again.

[aura-alora]

rant post

Why does everyone on the internet want to fight with me today? Am I the monster? D:

First person: They replied to a post saying a man is not obligated to continue talking to a woman if they rejected him with a comment saying that he *must* stay and make conversation because how can he expect a relationship without being friends first. And I was like...no. He made his intentions clear from the beginning, and he doesn’t owe anyone any more of his time. This woman then legit argued with me for like 12 hours straight saying everyone should be friends first and not understanding the fundamental difference between “lovers” and “friends”. I mean, I’m asexual (I think) and even I understand it’s different. But arguing with this woman was like arguing to a brick wall. No means no goes both ways, geez.

Second person: The OP was an exasperated parent that tried everything and their kid was still struggling at a mainstream school and wanted advice. So I advised the parent to get the kid checked out by a psychologist or psychiatrist and be medicated if necessary. The parent asked how they would go about doing so and I explained (with my limited knowledge of the issue, admittedly--I just said they should go to a hospital and get a prescription to see a psychiatrist, or see a social worker). First person to argue with me was about whether the kid should be sent to a psychologist or psychiatrist (wtf...what does that even matter? As long as the child is checked out it shouldn’t be an issue????). Then the next person accused me of being a bad person because I *gasp* dared to suggest the child be medicated, ignoring the fact that I said she should be seen by a professional first. Y’know, because all medicines are always bad all the time and will definitely be destructive to your kid despite the fact that...medication is like, literally needed if it’s a psychological issue???? I was getting so frustrated I just peaced out of that conversation, because all of their fuggin comments were not needed. A parent was asking for advice, I gave it, and it should have ended there. If they had alternative advice they could’ve replied to the post on their own instead of hijacking my post.

Then my boyfriend came home and said I should be grateful he came home early to come to my mom’s birthday...huh???? I was like...that is so rude...you should *want* to come to my mom’s birthday and not make it sound like I’m forcing him(cos I’m not, but he knows he would be seen as rude af if he didn’t attend). And then I sarcastically said “thanks for coming home early” and he was like “You don’t sound grateful”...uh, maybe because you tried to guilt trip me into feeling bad for you NOT WANTING TO COME TO MY MOTHER’S BIRTHDAY??????? Also cos I was already pissed from these two internet arguments that were actually nothing-burgers. 

Oh I was also angry from work because apparently the boss-man has assigned each teacher 40 periods for next year which is a RIDICULOUS work load, especially since I’m teaching MATRICULANTS (Final year of school) and I need the extra prep time. PLUS next year they’re bringing a brand-spanking new teacher in my department and I need to train that person--where am I going to find the time if I have 40 periods a day????

 I was also angry because yesterday boss-man put me in charge of debt collection and I was like, “I am not trained to do this shiz” and I had to listen to three hours worth of sob-stories from parents who couldn’t pay and then had to heartlessly tell them that if they didn’t we’d take legal action--like I’m a person who can do that. I was all Bob Parr at the desk telling them to go to the department of education and apply for an exemption of school fees. The school wanted me to take money from a grandma with a disability who was surviving on a measly pension...She gave me her last R50 and I felt so gross afterwards. I get that parents and guardians have financial responsibilities towards the school and schools take a lot of money to run properly--but don’t ask me to do this shit cos it feels gross and exploitative and I hate it. I complained about it today and they had the nerve to put me on debt-collection again despite the fact that my own register children were supposed to collect their reports--so they can’t collect their reports from their actual teacher? WTF? There was nobody to assist them so I just ducked away and assisted my kids, it seems like they found some other teacher to do the debt-collection. 

I’m also pretty sure other teachers in the staffroom are gossiping about me: I overheard the word ‘kort-sokkie’ (‘short socks’ because primary school kids wear short socks) and my name. Basically implying that I’m a kid and I don’t know what I’m doing...despite the fact that my kids all passed their final year with good marks last year (better than some of the older teachers’ kids)? Probably also because I dare to speak up against injustice, given that another young colleague was not permitted to teach the final year students because he didn’t have enough experience (3 years?) despite the fact that his kids receive excellent marks???? I basically called out their bullshit to another colleague, who probably told the story to them, (either that or they overheard me) and then they were all like, “Ah she doesn’t know what she’s talking about cos she’s young.” How ageist, right??? Well I’m just assuming that’s how the conversation went given I only heard snippets of it. I really don’t give a shit, but it’s annoying--everybody needs to start somewhere right? So give the man a little responsibility rather than just taking over and then complaining that he doesn’t have any experience. No duh, it’s because you’re not giving him a fucking chance. 

I was thrown into the deep end my entire career and I came out on top. The first day of my job at this school I was given a classroom with NO DESKS or CHAIRS. Kids had to sit on the floor. And I was given the two rowdiest classes in grade 9 that NOBODY wanted. And now? I’m teaching final year students for two years now, I’m lead teacher in the history department, and many new teachers come to ME for advice instead of their own friggin’ HODs. My HOD asks *ME* to moderate my colleague’s scripts because that is how much she trusts me (but it could also be deferring work on her end lol). I’ve done all of this within a five year period, despite not being the most extroverted person or the most amazing teacher. I’ve been trusted to mentor newbies, I’ve been trusted to do admin work like take in books or mail-merge letters, I’ve held extra-mural activities in my own class and managed them alone when other teachers dropped out, I spend EVERY SINGLE INTERVAL helping my kids--sometimes I don’t even get to eat because I’m explaining something to a kid that doesn’t understand. Many other teachers in the history department are still using activities and files and assessments that I HAVE SET UP. Five years later. So that has to count for something right?

I also know I’ve been excluded from a particular whatsapp group because sometimes people mention things to me that I’m not aware of expecting me to know about it. It kind of sucks, but I’ve no right to complain because they’re my colleagues not my friends. But when it comes to favours and wanting things they always turn to me first. How gross is that, right? But I do it anyway cos I’m a nice person *cough*doormat*cough*. I also believe that you should do nice things for the sake of being nice and not for any reward, and the more positivity you spread the more it will come back to you--though I’m just not feeling it at the moment LOL.

But let’s end this rant post on a lighter note: It’s my mom’s birthday today! Yay!~ Also all my register kids passed and most came to collect their reports (Yay!). I got a present from one of the parents (always the best feeling <3) I got to know one of my colleagues a little better. I’m doing pretty well, otherwise...

[trliteraltrash-fics]

Grin And Bear It - Chapter Five

Chapter Four: Respectfully, Fuck You

Ao3 Link

Inspired by @miss-conduct​

Summary:   You’re a 27 year old military Lance Corporal. You’d think that’d be good thing, but on a covert mission gone south, will you ever get to go home? Or will you adapt and find comfort right where you are? oh, and maybe you hadn’t heard, apparently time travel is a thing?

Catch up here! Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4

'I suggest you find a better place to nap.’ Soldier: 76’s voice echoed through your head as you sat by the window, colours thrown in a spectrum of reds and purples across the sky. Hardly anyone disturbed you here. It was quiet, and hell, sometimes you just had to get away from people. Away from the noise and the buzzing of electricity in wide hallways or places like the infirmary where there were so many devices running. Coming here had become part of your daily routine. Over the past week since your night of gaming with the ‘Tree Musketeers’ you spent each day training, going through drills and sets with 76. Thus far he had taught you basics – mostly things you already knew. It was familiar, and it brought a sort of calm as you threw yourself into it, the routine training becoming more and more like muscle memory.

After training you’d usually share a meal with the younger agents who had quickly become friends to you, more than you could consider yourself to them. Today, you had skipped the option to each with them. Watching the sunset, wanting to do so from start to finish today. The colours were more vibrant today, clouds covering the sky. You wondered if it would rain soon; you loved the rain. You sat with your arms wrapped around one knee, the other leg out straight in front of you. The world at ease for a few precious moments, these usually being the ones you would plug in your headphones and listen to Maris’ voice. Her picture sitting in your hand. Her face smiling brightly at you.

The window had almost become your ‘spot’ in a lot of ways. No one really walked by, it was just inside a blind spot of a security feed. It was disconnected from the crazy outside world of the future and it’s millions of things you couldn’t even begin to understand. Sitting there it didn’t matter if the other agents of Overwatch thought you were crazy for doing a chore or two when it needed to be done, nor did it matter how hard you would push yourself when you trained. At the end of the day, you still had this. The sunset.

Hell, if Hanzo could preach about meditation and finding peace, glorified bathrobe and all, you could certainly find it for yourself in these small moments.

You ran your thumb along the edge of the polaroid in your hand, the edges worn and middle starting to fade despite your careful folding to keep it from doing so. Her smiling face was still the most beautiful thing you had ever had the blessing of experiencing in person. The sun was starting to dip further behind the trees.

You’d find a way back home to her eventually or die trying. It was a promise you were making to yourself, you wouldn’t stay more than half a century into your future. You’d get back home and make a difference, even if that meant leaving the army, risking the loss of being paid due to the aim at the special pension reserved for soldiers who serve twenty years. You could get a real job that would still pay the bills, one that would let you spend time with your sister. Try to make up for lost time.

“Cadet.” You jolted at the sound of your Commander’s voice, his tone sending your mind reeling to images of memories you’d rather keep buried. You stood from the ground, at attention.

“Yes, Sir?” You stood with your shoulders straight and right arm up in a salute.

“At ease.” He started, you placed your arm down at your side. You were still rigid, fingers curled into fists.

You nodded at him when he hadn’t continued with your orders.

“Winston wants to see you in his lab. He’s got Intel he wants to show you.” Your eyebrows furrow as you grow confused, eyes turning towards the ground. It had been in the last week that they had stopped running scans. Could they really have sorted through everything that quickly? It was a hell of a lot of data. More importantly, what was so important that they had to interrupt you during the one thing you looked forward to each day?

“Can - - Sir, may I have a minute to - -”

“No. He wants to see you asap.” Soldier: 76 stood there, his arms folded over his chest with a coldness as though he were scolding a child making a stupid decision. You relaxed your fingers. Maybe it was stupid to look forward to something as silly as a sunset.

You nodded, a defeated sigh falling from your lips as you moved forward, following an invisible path to Winston’s lab. If it truly was that important, then you supposed the sunset could wait until tomorrow. Not like they thought much of the natural phenomenon anyway. You took note that 76 didn’t join you on your long walk towards the lab. Was it a private matter? They didn’t really exclude him otherwise.

You followed the stairs down to Winston’s lab, the electric buzzing faintly in your ears left you tense as you stepped through the doorway. Both Winston and Doctor Zeigler were in the lab, documents open on the electronic interface of the desk. The gorilla scientist looked up at you upon approach.

“Watson. Please, have a seat.” He started, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. You sat, albeit hesitantly.

“We have some concerns.” Mercy told you, her eyebrows furrowed, looking over a type of chart. Your own concern only grew as you saw document after document glowing over the desk, each one having a single name written on it.

Watson.

“You need to listen very carefully to what I’m about to tell you,” the scientist started, his gaze sympathetic. You nodded, urging him to continue. He brought up a document, your original medical report, it seemed. “When Tracer brought you in, we didn’t know what to make of you.”

“She insisted there was something special about you.” Mercy cut in, looking at the document hovering between the three of you. “She said that you were different from other civilians.”

“The tests we conducted over the past three weeks have concluded quite a few things.” Winston states, bringing up a 3D holographic image of a brain. “The first being that you have an abnormally high level of perception and processing.”

“Meaning?” You asked, wanting to prompt the conversation along when it looked like both doctor and scientist were going to hesitate.

“It means,” She sounded hesitant to tell you, walking over to lean against the desk and face you. “Your brain sorts through information at an increased rate, constantly taking in information in your environment and analysing it. Like a super computer that is constantly running, even when you’re not conscious.”

“Is that a problem?” your gaze flicked between them.

“Ordinarily, no.” She sighed, placing two fingers against her temple. “Watson, it seems that whilst your mind has amplified its ability to process information, this has also lead to an increase of each of your five senses.”

Winston separates the image of the brain into two, different levels of colours appearing.

“In the first scan, you can see that your mind is working and processing information at around thirty cycles per second whilst in your induced coma. The second shows the activity to be running at forty cycles per second.”

You looked at the images, it impressed you that your brain could be processing so much, so quickly.

“We believe this has something to do with your lost memory.” Winston adds, bringing up yet another series of scans that no doubt leads down to some chemical equation as you why you’re the way you are. “It has to do with the theory of time travel.”

You nodded. The change in subject taking your interest, they were only just now deciding to tell you even though you had already known for weeks. You weren’t sure if you should be thankful that they were coming forward with it, or offended that it took so long.

“Watson, we are under the belief that whatever happened before you were found in London, has led to travel through time.” Mercy crossed her arms, button down shirt and lab coat bunching at her elbows. “It’s both fascinating and concerning.”

“And, how does this connect to my brain?” Your question was pointed. You didn’t see how the topic concerned you other than the fact that it was your brain at work. It frustrated you. If they knew this, then what were you all siting around for? Why weren’t you looking for a way home?

“Watson,” Winston’s voice was full of compassion, hints of sympathy laced through it. “We know very little in terms of your condition or even how it came to be.”

“Why?” You stared at them, eyebrows furrowed and finger nails digging into your palms as you sat in the chair in front of Winston’s desk.

“We only know what you’ve told us. There are no records of anything that could help us to get you back to your own time. Please understand - -“

“Russia.” You ground out, hanging your head. The conversation pauses, your head felt hot, cheeks flushed with both shame of failing to keep mission details confidential, and the disgust you held. You were desperate to get home… But at this cost? The cost of potentially important information?

“What was that?” Mercy asked you, her voice so irritatingly calm.

“I was in Russia.” You bring your hands to your lap to grip onto the fabric of your pants instead of digging so hard into your palms. “I was working surveillance.”

You could hear the tell-tale signs of typing as what you were saying wa being recorded on yet more reports about you.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” You heard mercy ask, feeling as though there was a sort of condescending hint that probably wasn’t actually there.

“It’s classified. The whole mission… I’m not even supposed to tell you where I was.”

“Why?” Why? What did she mean, why? What part of classified information did these people not respect?

“Doctor.” You started, eyes trained on your shoes. “I am giving you all I can on the mission. It is my duty as part of the Australian Armed Forces to not tell you anything about it. The information I have supplied you so far would get me court-martialled alone.”

You blocked out their voices as best you could after that. You didn’t want the questions. Your heartbeat was rising, the feeling of being unsafe filling your chest as it had on day one of being in the facility. You weren’t supposed to tell them about the mission. And you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them the specifics, but you had given them a location. You were sure that was enough. God, you were so selfish. Selfish for wanting to go home instead of protecting the information as it was your duty to do. Selfish for wanting to see your little sister, for wanting to get home.

For wanting sunsets.

You slowly forced yourself back into the conversation, you had to deal with what was in front of you. Had to deal with the repercussions of leaking classified information to people who weren’t supposed to be privy to the information you just handed over. An image of blood coated the backs of your eyelids. Blood on your hands, on walls, clothes, limbs. You could practically feel your guilt sticking to you like drying blood.

You took a deep breath as you looked up at them.

“What is your point in all this?” You asked, jaw clenching, hands trembling in your lap, skin flushed in controlled anger.

“Watson, almost the entirety of your brain is working at any given time. Taking in information, analysing it, processing and presenting it to you with a speed that we have never seen before. It is simply faster than any human has been able to accomplish. It is likely that this will not ever happen again.” Winston tried to explain, hints of curiosity and excitement in his tone.

“So, what you’re telling me is that you’re focusing on my brain to see just how ‘spectacularly’ it works? See if I maybe have a few screws loose that maybe some duct tape can hold together long enough for you to just examine?” You were raising your voice, every syllable pointed with the precision of a fresh blade. Your blood felt like it was boiling, face burning with anger that you just couldn’t hold in.

“Watson, that’s not - -“

“I’m not finished!” You growled as you stood from the chair, legs scraping against the floor. “I’m not going to just hang out and wait for you to ‘fix’ me and send me home.”

“We don’t know if it was just your mind that has been affected.” Mercy tried to reason, bringing her hands forward to reach for your shoulder. You shove her hands away.

“I travelled into the – fucking – future. Which, by the way, I knew about a fortnight ago.” Your voice was venom now, acidic as your eyes focused on the doctor’s shocked expression. “But oh no ma’am. That’s not the best part! I get to have the equivalent of a ‘super computer’ as if that’s a blessing that I should be bowing down to some god for. And yet I still get to find out that you with all your fancy equipment and future tech – don’t have a single, foggy clue as to what the bloody hell is wrong with me?!”

“Watson, please, try to understand, we –“

“You What? Just want to help me? You want to try to understand my condition?” You shook your head, voice levelling out to a commanding tone. “I know your organisation needs new members because of the geographical spread of all of your soldiers. But I’m not a cadet, nor a private. I’m a fucking Lance Corporal. I don’t need to be talked to as if I’m stupid. If I have to be fucked up because of the sheer ‘concept’ of time travel, then I can sure as hell find my own way to get back to my own time and fix all of this absolute bullshit.”

You turned and stormed out. The scientist and doctor with all of their graphs, diagrams and data spread around the room had not a word to say. The display of frustration and anguish enough to silence them. It only took the edge off the amount of anger you had slowly piling on for weeks in the same halls, same rooms, same god forsaken building. You were probably less than welcome in their office now, you realised.

It wasn’t that what they said had made you mad to begin with. It was that they spoke with both the terminology of someone who was supposed to understand, and the condescending undertones of people who would regard you as stupid, or with no possible hope of understanding. A dull ache started in your chest, settling everywhere and nowhere at the same time. You pushed it down, not wanting to deal with it, not wanting to deal with anyone.

You were headed towards the window, knowing full-well that the sunset would be gone, and that you would have to last until tomorrow to see it. When you arrived at the window, the mood changed dramatically. The soldier was standing there, leaning against a wall by the window, staring out, a cup of coffee in his gloved hand. The sun expectedly gone as you approached, not wanting to back away and find somewhere else. You lent against the other wall, arms folded as you tried to compose yourself and rein in the anger before you opened your mouth and ruined things between the only other person of authority that you knew of.

After a moment or two, you felt his gaze on you. He could probably see the flush across your skin from being in the lab and snapping at his colleagues. You could feel it, even as you wondered how you would get the band around your wrist off and leave the facility. If you could find a hacker, they might be willing to get it off your arm. Although the idea was entertained, you knew it would never work, not only would you need to find a computer to do so, but you really had nothing to trade. There was no chance it would work.

“You lied.” 76 said from next to you, voice lowered.

“What?” Your gaze turned to him, the light of his visor emitting softly in the dark of the hall as he face you.

“Your name isn’t Watson.” He stated, the air turning threatening with the danger that seemed to radiate off him in waves. “You lied.”

“I didn’t lie.” Your tone was calm, level even. It surprised you how quickly the anger bubbled back up as your fingers curled to dig into your arms as you kept them folded. If he decided you were a threat then there wasn’t much of a future ahead of you, here or in your own time.

“If you didn’t lie, then what the hell is this?” He took a folded pile of paper from his pocket and held it out to you.

You took it from him, your gaze turning downwards as you unfolded the paper, reading over it. The basis of the accusation, and the information had a great many things running through you as you read over things you already knew. How the actual fuck did he get this? The man standing before you was much smarter than you gave him credit for, he had found your birth certificate, the school you went to, even the date you enlisted into the fucking army. He had the name of your little sister, Maris [L/N]. He knew who you were, and it showed in his cocky-arsed, military drilled attitude.

“Something wrong, [Y/N]?” His voice was like the distant rumble of thunder, promising lightning to come, it sent ice through your bones.

“How did you find this?” You looked up at him, was there really any point in hiding it anymore?

“Wouldn’t have had to go looking if you had’ve told the truth.”

“Yeah, because the truth is that your name is really ‘Soldier: 76’” Your voice was dripping with both sarcasm and anger. Fingers gripping onto the pages in front of you, heart beat rising. You almost regretted your decision to snap at him when he leaned down to your level.

“You’re digging yourself a grave - -“

“What? Be prepared to lie in it?” You finished for him, your entire body facing him, jaw set and shoulders straight, glaring into the ‘eyes’ of his face. “I constructed the fine print on my funeral the day I signed the enlistment paperwork. I’m already lying in it. I’m. Waiting. To. Fall. Asleep.” You hissed, shoving the papers into his chest as you turned, leaving with the last word, bitterness seeping into every last crevice of your body.

Deep down, you knew getting home was a stab in an inky blackness that could swallow you whole. Seeing your little start was as good as your chances of getting your next ‘headshot’ in one of D.Va’s videogames the next time you play. Near on impossible. If everyone around you could stop looking at you, your name and your family and start looking at your situation, maybe you would be home by now.

If they wouldn’t focus on what was important, then you would.

“Well done, mishka.” Zaryanova’s praise touched your bittersweet mood with a cheerfulness that had you feeling tired.

You had come to the training hall to blow off some steam, away from the infirmary, but still being productive, even if it was for your own gain. The Russian woman beside you handed over a water bottle as you sat up. You took it, stretching out one arm as you drank from the bottle. Your gaze turned to the weights, the total seated at about 180 pounds. Your goal was to bench 200 by the end of the month, if you were even still here at that point. You looked up when a shadow fell over your legs, looking up you saw the strongwoman standing over you, arms across her chest over a pink tank-top.

“Something is on your mind.” It certainly wasn’t a question, the stern undertone of her voice encouraging you to tell her what was bothering you in a very distinctively Russian way.

“It’s nothing too important.” You shake your head, shrugging your shoulders.

“You are happy with progress, no?” she sits across from you, taking a weight in her hand.

“My progress is fine – here at least.” You sigh, watching as Zaryanova uses the weight, doing bicep curls.

“Then, is an emotional issue.” She states, levelling your gaze with hers.

“Call it an altercation – an emotional immaturity, if you will.” You look out across the training hall, breaking eyecontact.

“What causes you to think that?”

“Over the course of the lax six hours, I’ve managed to be aggressively insubordinate.” You crack your knuckles, fingers giving as easily to the motion as you had to your previous anger.

“Is it important?”

“What?” Your gaze turned back to the woman sitting in front of you, working her muscles. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Was it a necessary argument?” She was looking down at her arm as she completed another curl.

Was it?

You were a little stunned, did you really need to have the argument? Sure, you could’ve gone about it differently, but you had been so angry. You had felt like a child, everything down to something as trivial as a sunset stripped from you. It had made you feel vulnerable, defensive. Did Winston and mercy deserve to be yelled at? No, not really. But it was something you had to get off your chest. You didn’t think anyone would listen to you otherwise. Not even the soldier who appeared to take in your every word with a critical eye, he probably fact checked everything. You nodded.

“Yeah, I think… I think it was.”

“Then what is the problem?” She looked up at you.

“I…” You pressed your mouth into a line, looking at your hands as your shoulders sagged. “I think it’s going to severely mess up my shot at getting home.”

“Home is where you make it, mishka.” You felt a hand come to rest on your shoulder. “Is not home that is problem, yes?”

“I have… A family – a sister – to get back to.” You move your gaze to look up at her.

“You have much to learn.” Zaryanova sighs, running a hand through her bright pink hair. “Brothers and sisters are here as well.”

“How do you mean?” You were confused, just what’d she mean by that?

“To live, to fight in team. Would you not live and die for them?” She asks, giving you some ‘food for thought.’ “Are they not family in arms?”

You stared at the woman in front of you, giving you sound advice. Sure, you had to figure out the answer for yourself, but really you should’ve asked yourself that before. You’d not even been here a month and yet you had already acquainted yourself with new people, new friends. Were you being selfish by not accepting what was put in front of you? Throwing away the opportunity to do better?

“You might just be right, Zaryanova.” You decided. The two of you stood, her height allowing her to tower over you without a thought. You grasped each other’s forearms, the grin on her face was brilliant as it was cocky.

“Of course, I’m right, mishka.” She pats you on the back as you turn to leave. “I’m Russian.”

You left her in the training room, a calm sitting over you as you thought about what she had given you to consider. There was a lot you had to sort out.

-

The next morning, you were standing in Winston’s, having just interrupted a meeting he was having with Mercy and Soldier: 76. Which was unbelievably convenient. The issue certainly wasn’t going to sort itself out, and you had to get it over with. Standing there now, you felt small and insignificant, your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to compose not only your apology, but also your defence as to why you had argued and yelled at them in the first place. In a way, you felt as though they expected you to apologise, not that you had much of a choice. You didn’t want any more debts to pay.

“I want to apologise, for my actions yesterday.” You started, attempting to keep your voice even with their attention pointed at you. Your hands sat in front of you, one hand holding your other wrist. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It was wrong, and immature. Especially when I’m here out of the generosity of your organisation.”

You took a breath, slowly, eyes scanning each of them to see if there was any disbelief or perhaps any hatred in the eyes of the trio that you considered judge, jury and executioner. You straightened your shoulders.

“Specifically, I wish to apologise for providing you a false name. I understand that there may be distrust of my position here, but by providing a pseudonym, I had a way to protect my identity… Not that it did much good in the end.” You looked at Soldier: 76, red visor light staring right at you. “I don’t mean you any harm. Not to your operation, families, or any information you have here. My name is [Y/N] [L/N], I am a Lieutenant Colonel of the Australian military… And I wish to formally apologise, and request that I take responsibility for my immature actions.”

Your long-winded apology didn’t go without its flaws, and you certainly hoped they would accept it, even if you highly doubted it. This was, realistically, the best wicket you had in terms of not only surviving in the future without any knowledge of how anything from income to shelter worked. It was also your best show at getting home. You didn’t know what was outside the perimeter of the facility, not with the Mad-band around your arm tracking your location.

You fidgeted as you waited for them to respond, your gaze turned down to your shoes as they looked at each other, the silent conversation running over your head. You were mentally preparing for them to drag your arse out of the facility with nothing more than what you had arrived with.

You hear Winston clear his throat. “Well, uh. This is a change of events, certainly. But your apology is accepted.”

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, you were surprised. The only other person in the room who even showed a fraction of sharing that same sentiment was 76, who had tensed as Winston spoke.

“However,” He continued. “we understand that mistakes are made, but as you said, you wish to take responsibility. I believe the best course of action would be to leave you at the hands of Soldier: 76 to levy the consequences.”

“Yes, Sir.” You nodded, turning when you were dismissed. Walking out of the lab you mulled it over; Soldier: 76, the American hard as nails Commander with a stick up his arse was going to deal your hand. Perhaps by the end of this, you wouldn’t need to find a way home after all.

-

Boots falling in step, Angela Zeigler and Soldier: 76 made their way towards the MedBay where Angela was looking to drop off some printed documents for filing. The topic of conversation was you.

“I know Watson had an altercation with Winston and I… But one with you,76? I hadn’t suspected that.” Her tone was thoughtful, her arms resting comfortable around the stack of files in her arms.

“A pointed conversation.” He clarified, opening a door for Angela to step through first. His thoughts on the content of the conversation he had shared with you.

“And that’s when you discovered that her name is, in fact, [Y/N]?”

“No. I have been looking into her from the moment she woke up.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I have a few concerns about her.”

“General, or security?”

“Mental.”

He nodded, his mind flicked to the sight of you, anger so prevalent that you had been trembling with it. Eyes holding a darkness he had seen too many times in the mirror.

“I’m not certain of the extent of her condition… It’s… difficult.” She admits, eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s certainly something of an enigma.” He agreed, watching as Angela stepped through the entrance of the MedBay.

“I will have to test for Post-Traumatic Stress…” She sighs, placing the files on her desk. “One can only wonder what she has had to do with the old ideals.”

Soldier: 76 placed his hands in his pockets, the sight of you laying against the window appeared behind his eyes. The journal page that had been damp with tears, the note to a young child, and the way you were perpetually tense whenever you were anything but asleep. If he thought about it, perhaps he was being too hard on you from a security standpoint. It wasn’t unreasonable to assume that you carried yourself the way you did due to your experience. What was it you had told him?

You were waiting to fall asleep.

He considered the implications of that statement. Being here, closed off from the outside would, admittedly, send even him stir-crazy. But he didn’t that was what it was, the only thing he really considered in your actions was that it consisted of an almost muscle memory that set you into a routine best to adapt yourself to the environment.

“Is there anything I should take into consideration, Soldier?” She was looking at him now, her tone suggesting it wasn’t just the facts she wanted.

“That soldier needs help, Angela.” He admitted, sighing. “Don’t push too much, too fast.”

“Understood.” She wrote something down, eyebrows furrowed. “I best be tending to her arrangements.”

-

You felt a pair of eyes on you as you pulled yourself up for your sixty-seventh consecutive chin-up, a weight seated on your calves that were crossed at the ankle. You had been waiting in the training hall for Soldier: 76 to show up and give you your orders. It was possibly a stupid idea to place yourself on the highest bar to do chin-ups in the training hall, however it ensured that your feet wouldn’t touch the ground. You huffed as you pulled yourself up again, adjusting the grip of your hands, feeling as though they were starting to slip. You left yourself down before pulling back up, bringing your feel up when they felt like they were dropping, keeping your focus on the bar.

“You have better form. Good to know you were listening.” A deep, gruff voice called from beneath you.

It startled you, not expecting whoever had come in to come by and talk to you. You tried to adjust you grip as your hands faltered on the bar you were pulling yourself up to. The surprise yelp you gave as you slipped from the bar was replaced with the immediate realisation that you could potentially be seriously injured when you hit the floor. You brought your arms out as if that would do anything.

The hard floor never reached you, your descent suddenly slowed to a careful halt as you heard the weight thud loudly against the floor. A pair of strong arms were around you, holding under your knees, and across your back. Your heart beating quickly to both exertion and the sudden slip. You looked up to see Soldier: 76, the red light of his visor up close not as intimidating in the light of the training hall.

You breathed in, realising that he had caught you as though you had weighed literally nothing. It would’ve made for a romantic moment if you weren’t in the army, or if the thought that he was your commanding officer only there to make sure you knew just how badly you had screwed up.

“Thank you - - sir.” You mumbled as he put you down.

“You need to be more careful, cadet.” He stated.

“Because falling for you is something I can account for.” You muttered.

“What was that?” There was an edge lace in his voice.

“Nothing, Sir.”

“Exactly. Drop and give me fifty.”

This was going to turn out just great.

You weren’t getting up there, no way your arms could pull your body towards the bar. Since when did you weigh this much? Your legs felt like mush, the muscles exhausted. Push-ups were fine, planking across two benches, you were okay with that. Fifty damn laps around the complex had left your legs turned into jelly. And after all that, you were back at square one; chip-ups. You were up to number 34 out of one-hundred. You couldn’t do it, you didn’t want to do it. But he wouldn’t let you down, not until you finished. Sweat was pouring off you in waves, making if that much harder to pull yourself up.

76 stood with his arms folded near you, watching as you pulled yourself up, grunting with the effort it took to simply pull yourself upwards. Your hair was a mess, having no chance to retie it for the duration he had been dealing with you so far. This form of cruel and unusual punishment confused you, originally, you thought he’d make you scrub the room, do laundry and other chores until he had thought you’d done enough to satisfy the grievance.

This hadn’t been what you had in mind at all. Did he enjoy putting you through training? Watch as you eventually struggled to so a basic set? You pulled yourself up, falling back to the full length of your arms before your chin could raise above the bar. Dammit.

“You can’t come down until you finish.” He reminded you, and you were sure you could hear a smirk in his stupid voice. You’d be hanging here for the rest of the century!

“I can’t get up there.” You groaned, trying again to pull yourself upward, muscles protesting with every centimetre.

“Then you’ll just have to hang there.” You pulled yourself maybe an inch higher, gritting your teeth at the comment.

“Sir?”

“What, Cadet?”

“Respectfully Sir… Go fuck yourself.” You quipped, pulling your chin above the bar.

-

“You told Soldier: 76 to – ha! That’s so great!” D.Va laughed at the comment you had made to the commanding officer hours ago, making your way down the hall with trembling muscles.

“I don’t feel great.” You groaned. He had made you clean the entire training hall after the smart-arse comment.

“Still. I wouldn’t have been brave enough to say it.” She smiled at you, “I can’t quite tell if that was a stupid or brave move on your part though.”

“Trust me, D.va, it was incredibly stupid.” You stopped at your door, the one with the sticky note on it, your name written down in neat letters.

“Hey,” D.Va turned to you, your gaze now on her. “Call me Hana.”

“You nodded at her. “Alright… Hana.”

You opened the door to your room and stepped inside. You were taken aback, it was certainly bigger than you thought, especially when you considered it housed a single person. There was a bed in the centre of the wall, too big to be a single bed, yet too small to be considered a double bed. Next to it on the right side was a desk, at the corner facing the wall, a window seated above it. The window just enough to let natural light in during the day. Next to the door was a dresser. There was still ample room for you to walk around, and have another person inhabit the space with you.

You looked at the room, your eyes widening. It might’ve been quaint, or small to some standards, but if filled you with a small sense of security. A sense of ease that came with having a space that was yours. Hell, you had your own bed.

When was the last time you had your own bed?

“At least something good came out of all this.” You sighed, walking over and running your hand along the covers. They felt soft.

“I’ll let you get settled into the new room.” You could hear the smile in her voice. “Meet us for dinner?”

“Yeah… Sure.” You nodded, hearing the door close behind her.

You turned and laid down on the covers, sinking into it, the mattress firm and holding you properly. It smelled like vanilla and something earthy. Not wanting to move, you laid there, staring at the ceiling, contemplating just how lucky you were in a lot of ways. Being here had improved you physically already, you were significantly more fit than you had been the first couple days you used to sneak off to the training hall. You had gained a sort of surrogate family born out of the battlefield rather than during the middle of it.

Tracer kind of reminded you of your sister, energetic and optimistic with an impatience that rivalled most. Hana was what you thought a ‘best friend’ should be, with her competitive nature and overly fantastic instinct to read the emotions of people. Lúcio was like a brother to you, his music was pretty good and showed not only his work ethic, but his big heart that you could see in each interaction you had. Even Zaryanova had made it into the mix, he solid advice had you in the position were in now, pushing through and trying to stick it out. To be patient and prepared for the possibility that you might not actually be able to get home.

Even McCree was on the list, only, he spent most of his time either in the firing range or doing god-knows-what somewhere else. He was always up for the company though, if you had time to give it. Your ‘acquaintanceship’ was more him openly flirting with you, like he did with most anyone (except Tracer – something about a girlfriend?) and you’d have a one-liner. It was kind of like going out drinking, without the liquor.

Your thoughts drifted to the American poster boy; Soldier: 76. Sure, he was your superior, but so was Zaryanova, and even Mercy. Both of whom would share a slice-of-life type story if it came up. With your commanding officer, there weren’t any conversations besides the regular Drill Sargent insults, and your smart-arse comments. Would he be the only one around who would almost outright avoid you outside when he had to talk to you? A small part of you hoped that wouldn’t happen. In a weird way, it felt like he could relate to you better, knew when to push you harder or to back off a bit. You shook you head, closing your eyes and sighing.

He was different to others that had trained you, sure. He treated you like he was supposed to, but there was a mutual respect there. The whole ‘I’m your superior but you’re still a human, kid.’ (why could you imagine him saying that?) You rub at your left wrist, feeling ghost pain rise up in an unexpected dull ache.

It was going to be one of those nights.

-

About two weeks into the hard and fast training Soldier: 76 had put you through since your apology in Winston’s lab, you found that you were allowed in the gun range. So far, you had been in there for about two hours. Mercy having just been by with a pair of hearing aids, only, to do the opposite to what you considered normal for your hearing. They adjusted automatically to the noises around you, gunshots scaling lower, and voices at a regular volume. You were immensely grateful to her for them, the sound of electronics in the area barely registering upon your ears now as you stood in front of a training bot that hovered above the ground.

You pulled the trigger to the rifle you had in your hands, apparently it was called a ‘Pulse Rifle’ and it had a far greater range to regular bullets. You looked at the training robot, some thirty yards away, you aimed, keeping your elbows from locking as you steadied the weapon. When you pulled the trigger, your arms moved, the force of the kick moving your hands, and the rest of you to the ground. The bullet missing the bot by a few metres, McCree chuckling to your right.

“You alright there darlin’?” He asked, a smirk in his voice as he watched you get back onto your feet.

“M’fine.” You brushed off your hands onto your pants. “Kick’s a bit bigger than expected.”

“Should’ve taken my advice.” He said, putting his cigar into the holder on an ashtray as he walked over. “It’s not enough to jimmy it against yer shoulder.”

You looked at him, eyebrows furrowing. “How’d y’mean, cowboy?”

“Well, missy,” He places his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face the bot again. He smelled of tobacco and stale liquor, whiskey mostly. “What it is yer doin’ is sitting the butt of the rifle against the wrong part of yer shoulder.”

You face the mark once again, eyebrows furrowing. “Okay, let me figure this out.”

You looked at the bot, adjusting your grip on the rifle as McCree stepped back. You moved the back end of the gun to sit better against your shoulder, and your side as you aimed it towards the bot and practice targets around it. You adjusted your stance to be more grounded, more centred as you pulled the trigger. The first few shots you tested missed. You readjusted and took to it again.

The shot hit.

Your eyebrows raised, and eyes widened as the training bots’ head exploded, the bot falling to the ground. Sure, you were adept at using weapons, or, at least those you could understand, but to actually hit a shot with this type of weapon? You were impressed with yourself. Your gaze turned to McCree, a smirk on his face.

“Looks like you’ve got the hang of it there all on yer own.”

“Yeah.” You breathed a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting it to just blow up like that though.”

“Best not stop while you’re getting the hang of it.”

You nodded, an affirmative sound coming from you as you turned to shoot, eyeing each target and shooting at it. Sure, anyone with a pair of hands could pick up a weapon and shoot, be it beginners luck or what have you, but it took training to get the amount of shots you were getting. You guessed it was perks of working your arse off when you were back home training or out on the field in a skirmish, that lead to your ability with this new kind of weapon.

A low whistle from beside you caught your attention, you lowered the weapon, looking for a way to reload it.

“Do I meet your expectations, darlin’?” you mocked his accent a little bit on the last word, raising an eyebrow as you found the release for the clip.

“Meetin’ and exceedin’. Didn’t think you’d actually start hittin’ the targets that quick.” He confessed, smiling at you when you looked at him.

“And they call you a quick draw.” You reloaded the rifle, looking back to the grounds as more targets rolled out. “Besides, I gotta set the bar somewhere.”

Aim, shoot, breathe.

-

Winston’s conversation with Soldier: 76 was going no where near the plan he had for it. The anger in the soldier’s features was evident as he presented the news.

“You want to put her out on the field?” 76 asked incredulously, voice low and seething as he stared down the gorilla from behind his visor. “She hasn’t got the training, let alone the bearings.”

“She’s been improving steadily.” The tone of Winston’s voice suggesting that he was trying to be reasonable. “She holds tremendous tactical advantage. Look at this.”

He looked at the live feed that was brought up. You were standing in the range, McCree smoking a cigar at the table nearby. You were handling a rifle half the size of you. When you took a shot and stumbled back, you turned, saying something to McCree, a smirk on your face as you adjusted your stance and took another shot. You hardly flinched with the kick, taking shot after shot.

“With her fighting for us, we could take care of Talon and its agents scattered over the globe. We could stop the largest crime organisation in the world. You don’t think she has the training? Look at her marksman skills.”

He watched as you took calculated shot after shot, until you emptied the clip. You brought the rifle down to look for the release. Just how many weapons had you tested so far? He discounted the thought. It didn’t matter if you could carry a weapon and have complete accuracy. It didn’t matter if you continued to exceed his expectations. It didn’t convince him that it would be the same on the field, he didn’t want to be the cause of more needless death. Especially when you didn’t even belong here.

“Handling a weapon in a controlled environment means nothing. It’s completely different on the field. Just because she’s able to stick something with a bullet doesn’t ensure she has the physical endurance required to take down Talon by any measure.”

“76,” Winston sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You know her, evidently more than I do, but the fact is that with her, we may have a chance at bringing peace again. Making a difference again.”

“She hasn’t got the training.” He stated.

“I’m sorry, but the matter’s out of my hands. It’s already been decided.”

“By who?” His voice was stern as he folded his arms, you shouldn’t be on active duty. He watched as Winston brought up your file, or, what he had access to.

“These scans and diagrams show that she is physically stable. 76, Angela cleared her for active duty, everything in her files, from medical diagnosis to conversations they’ve had is strictly under Angela’s clearance.”

“You didn’t look into her files yourself?”

“Angela is a capable doctor. Her decisions have come to be an advantage to us more than once.” He takes her file from the display on his desk. “She will be accompanying you tomorrow. There isn’t any risk, the mission’s only reconnaissance anyway.”

“You’ll regret that decision when her blood’s spread across the pavement.” He said, standing and leaving Winston’s lab. He had preparations to reorder.

-

The next morning, you were guided to a hanger, located in a separated building from the rest of the complex. There were ACVs – Well, kind of. You could tell they were military vehicles, due to the reinforced tyres on most of them, the thick metal shell of them suggesting that the vehicles were built to be in a skirmish. You crouched to look at the wheels of one of the vehicles, your eyebrows furrowing. They weren’t touching the ground, and nothing was connected to them.

They had hover cars.

“Stop gawking.” Soldier: 76 said, standing beside you. You got up, looking around the base again.

The hangar was big, and it seemed every car had its own designated space. Your eyes turned forward when you noticed movement, a pair of familiar faces standing by what looked to be a dropship. McCree and Tracer stood by the door. It brought a small comfort, having familiar faces on your first mission, even if this whole thing felt like a test.

You’d have to place trust into people you hadn’t long met, only one of which you had actually train with, and they would have to place their trust in you. You’d have to be ready for anything that came your way. It felt like déjà vu, like meeting your squad back home all over again. McCree like Jenks, the Texan boy with a sharp aim. Tracer like Mouse, resourceful and extremely quick. Then there was Soldier: 76, and yeah, he was kind of like Sprint, quiet and to the point, if he didn’t have the metal visor for a face, you were sure he’d always have a scowl on his face. The revelation had you feeling as though you were in good hands, and it made you want to be better.

Being in the army did that, you supposed, trusting your comrades faster than any regular person. They were the ones you had to trust like your life depended on it, because, your life did depend on it.

“Get in.” 76 ordered, Tracer and McCree walking up and into the dropship. You followed them up, abiding by his orders. He was the highest-ranking attendant to the mission as far as you knew, and thus, all orders he gave had to be followed.

You sat down across from Tracer, McCree next to her and the Commander next to you. You were nearest to the back of the vehicle, wondering what the mission would entail. You were told it was a simple reconnaissance, which explains why you were even allowed to toe in the direction of the mission in the first place. However, in your experience, nothing was ever just recon. You were hoping it was an easy in-and-out mission. That wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

Your thoughts were interrupted when the ship lurched, lifting upwards before moving forwards. You looked forward to Tracer, a recurring thought came to mind that had your eyes widening, awe dawning on your face as she laughed.

“You have hover cars.” You announced.

“Of course, love! They’ve been around for ages.”

Setting foot on ground zero had an eerie feel to it, there weren’t any people around, not that you could see. You were on the outskirts of what you were told was a rundown city, which, in all honestly just looked like the grungy side of Sydney. There was graffiti over the walls over buildings, posters over noticeboards. The more you looked at the city, which was really more a town anyway, you found that it was fairly run down. A car had been stripped of parts nearby. Windows were broken, doors broken in.

“Group up over here.” 76 ordered, placing a bag of equipment down and crouching to unzip it.

You stood alongside your companions, McCree inspecting his revolver and flashbangs, Tracer adjusting her jacket before she took her weapons from Soldier, who unloaded a rather large rifle that matched what you were coming to assume was his unspoken aesthetic. He stood, turning as his gaze settled on you. He had another rifle in his hand, a scope sitting atop it.

“Your weapon.” He stated, holding it for you to take, which you did, pulling the strap over your shoulder, letting it rest comfortable. Your commanders gaze turned to face the three of you.

“This is a monitoring, reconnaissance, mission. I don’t want buildings going down due to a lack of tactfulness, or lack of care.” He stated, turning his gaze to you for a moment as if you would send a building to the ground. “We aren’t expecting any heat on this but be on your guard. Don’t get yourself killed.”

You nodded, watching as Tracer and McCree just listened along, probably used to this kind of quick, on the job briefing.

“Report back if you see anything. Tracer, you’re headed east. Watson,” His gaze was back on you for a moment. “East. McCree and I will head through the middle. Remember to use your coms. Move out.”

From there you spread out, taking the east side as you were instructed. You appreciated the fact that you were given all the information you needed to know and weren’t expected to know when and where everything was. It gave you a sense that you were still part of the team despite the obvious difference in authority. You crouched at the corner of a building, looking around before heading inside to start clearing it, attempting to find any information that could’ve lead to the call to come out in the middle of nowhere.

You ducked through a kitchen, dirty dishes still in the sink. A teddy bear siting beside a highchair. You worked through clearing each building you could get to on the way towards the east side, not spending too much time in a building; just enough to clear it before moving on. There were a few stores that you cleared, the one you were clearing now had a door siting ajar, leading to what was probably the office. You walked over, pointing your gun towards the door. You toed it open with your boot, scanning the room.

You had to turn away.

A family had been killed in there, mother father, and two little boys. The dried blood on the wall hand your grip on your rifle firm as you worked to clear the rest of the store before moving on, only pausing to take a lone roll of duct tape from a shelf. Never knowing when you might need it as you pushed down the failure and thoughts of being so useless that you hadn’t come at an earlier time to save the people in the store. Not that there was anything you could’ve done.

It felt the same, each building was empty of anything interesting, unless you counted the body count. A common theme was occurring to you as you worked your way through the buildings. It had to be an act of terrorism, or a measure of control that had left the few bodies you found, other places with a spray-painted sigil of a barn owl. You found your way outside, weaving past bins and cars that had been stripped for parts. This town was a horror show put on display, and you had to focus.

You were probably at it for about an hour now. You were growing concerned as you searched, you hadn’t received word from the others. You reached up to your ear and pressed the button on your communications device.

“Commander, status. Over.” You spoke as you cleared the street of any possible signs of movement. All you got was static.

Shit.

“Commander, status report- -” The sound of distant gunshots ringing in the distance caught your attention.

You hadn’t been expecting resistance on this mission. The line was dead on your commanders’ end. You had no way of contacting him. You made your way towards the sound, creeping behind bin, cars, even fences to find cover. You tried your coms again.

“McCree, do you read me. Over.” Static.

You got closer to the gunshots, loud enough to tell you that the fight was going on very much nearby. You swept the area before going into the closest building. A hotel. It would make for a good vantage point. You had your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, clearing the open halls as you took the stairs, running up them as quietly as you could manage. If you could make it to one of the top levels, you’d have an almost perfect vantage point given the heights of the other buildings.

You heard shouting in the street, someone was down there. You ran into the closest room you could get to, kicking the door shut behind you. The empty living room of an apartment facing you, everything set out as though a family had lived there. You jump over a couch, rolling to land against the far wall of the room, adjusting your rifle so you could see through the scope. You sat up, using the scope to look out the window, attempting to pinpoint the location of the skirmish.

You look over the streets, your gaze turning to find movement towards the north-west. You moved your rifle to the window and crawled over to the next window, not wanting to take the chance if there was a sniper. You looked through the next window, scope showing you that the boys; McCree and Soldier: 76 were outnumbered, a group of mercenaries facing them with what was the equivalent of automatic weapons. You tried to get a clear shot, they moved behind a building, out of your range.

You groaned and hurried out the door, back down the stairs. You needed to make clear shots or you would give away your cover. You almost tripped on the last staircase, catching yourself on the rail as you made your way through the foyer, legs carrying you with an ease as you cleared corners and roads on your way to a closer building. Your eyes found a higher building as you heard how loud the skirmish was. It was rather close. You sprinted towards the building, ducking and weaving behind anything and everything in the environment you could find as you got to the entrance.

The large broken window was enough for you to jump through and find the stairs going up. You heard voices as you climbed the stairs, they sounded like mercenaries. You made your way up the stairs, careful not to make an unnecessary amount of noise. You followed the sound of the voices as you made your way up the staircase, to the fourth floor. They were being rather loud.

Kicking open the already ajar door, you were met with a group of three surprised mercenaries. You aimed at the first, the one on the right, aiming and shooting him as your muscle memory of how to operate in the situation took control. He dropped to the floor with a thud, the one on the right was a girl, her face looking young, but not for long. The middle one had scrambled for his gun. He aimed for you, but the shot was too far to the left, whizzing past your ear. You aimed and shot him, the bullet sinking into his shoulder. Gritting your teeth, you took the second shot in a rapid succession.

Dead.

You stepped inside the room, which was wrecked. Furniture and miscellaneous items scattered everywhere. Jumping over a couch and near missing some glass bottles, the smell of old, and new alcohol mixing in the air was enough to make your stomach leave you feeling nauseous at the smell. You made your way to the window hoping you weren’t too late as you set yourself up, aiming.

Looking down at the field, you saw that there were at least six targets on the ground, shooting at your comrades, another two in the lower level of a building. You looked up at the top of the building, a sniper with a long pony tail on the roof. Setting up the shot, you took a deep breath in, squeezing the trigger. The sound of your shot was like lightning cracking as the bullet you sent her way missed your intended target.

The only bright side was that her scope was broken; a heavy disadvantage in the field of ranged targets. Your attention turned down to the heat on the lower floors of the building the sniper was on. As you ducked out of the way, you felt a hot pressure graze across your arms, looking down, you saw that you were bleeding, a hole now in your jacket sleeve. You looked it over, hissing in pain, the blood not enough to worry about, you pushed your sleeve up you arm so that it could soak up more blood that would no doubt seep from your arm.

You chanced another look at the battlefield below you on the ground. Your concern not only on the talented sniper you would have to deal with, but onto your team who was being pinned down. You saw a black figure down on the ground now, a white face under his hood. You didn’t have time to think about it as a bullet collided with the brickwork at the height of your head. You swore, ducking behind the wall further. You just caught the flash of blue on the ground, a British voice calling out, signalling Tracer’s arrival to the unexpected party.

Perhaps you could use her arrival to your advantage? You looked around the room, you took note of the electronics from earlier, the nails that were sticking into the carpet and various other seemingly useless items. An idea struck you, effectively lighting a fire under you as you took to the floor, taking wiring, nails, a liquor bottle and an empty soup can, as well as the roll of duct tape you found in one of the stores earlier in your search. You crafted a ‘home-grown’ grenade, all kinds of shrapnel put inside of a device that could very easily explode. You only had one chance at seeing if it would work.

Turning to the window you saw that the figure in black had the attention of your comrades, the other targets busily reloading their weapons. It wasn’t that far, maybe fifty metres. If you could throw it at the right angle it would land and (hopefully) explode at the feet of the enemy. You stood behind the cover of the brick wall, calculating the trajectory of your very dangerous concoction.

You took a breath as you stepped out of your cover, throwing the grenade and watching it’s trajectory, landing a meter out of proportion. The confusion of the targets on the ground matched your own disappointment as your contraption did nothing, your intended targets inspecting it. It was only the span of a few seconds, but the resulting explosion in a flurry of glass, nails and liquor left a sadistic, morbid side of you satisfied with your work. The screams of pain, and the sight of fire catching to the clothes of the targets below left you – wincing? Why was there a pressure in your abdomen? You move behind the brick wall, looking down as you lean backwards. There was blood seeping over your shirt. You placed your hand firmly over the wound as you pushed yourself forward, towards the door. The crimson covering your hands a result of the wound and your physical strain as you coughed, placing a hand on the wall, blood slick hand slipping as your shoulder slammed into the wall.

It hurt.

You clenched your jaw and kept moving, towards the stairs. You knew it was a bad idea, but you started running when you saw the stairs, bringing your hand up to your coms. The resulting static signalling that they were still cut. Fuck.

Your blood pumped faster, your legs moving overly quickly as you ran down the flights of stairs. Warm liquid cooling against your hand, leaking over your arm. It hurt worse than when your hand was broken, or the time you were beaten for a long close-minded belief.

Your feet lost traction on the ground as you tripped, hands flying to the hand rail, your body slipping and rolling down the stairs into the main foyer of the building you were in. The gunshots outside didn’t hold as many numbers, it left you guessing that the targets in your sights had been neutralized. It was a fleeting, yet comforting thought as you pushed yourself up on slippery, sticky, and crimson covered arms. A harsh cough sending more blood and saliva over the floor. Your blood quite literally starting the paint the floor. Your skin felt flushed with heat. It confused you, you were losing blood weren’t you? Fear made its presence known around your rapidly beating heart.

You didn’t want to die.

You caught a glimpse of bright red outside, pulling yourself to get closer. You groaned with the effort of moving, the pain causing tears to spring to your eyes. You squeezed them shut, taking as large a breath as you could, hoping he’d be able to hear you.

“I need a medic!”

The sound of your pained voice just barely reached Soldier: 76’s ears. He didn’t want you out on the field in the first place, and yet, here you were. The explosion had certainly caught his attention, had you been caught in the blast? He didn’t bet on it, your voice coming from behind him. He shot his pulse rockets at the man before him, now known as Reaper before turning around, sprinting towards the building as Tracer and McCree distracted him. He looked around for you, unsure of what he’d find, especially from a kid who had told him explicitly that they had wanted to die.

He stepped into the foyer of an apartment building, heavy boot falls pounding against the pavement. He saw blood covering the floor and the sound of raspy, shortened breathing coming from the corner, near the staircase. He jogged over, finding you leaning against the wall, your eyes dull. He was over to your side in less than a second, the recognition on your face only followed by coughs that had your shoulders shaking, and blood pouring over your chin.

Soldier: 76 leaned over you, putting his arms under you, one under your knees, the other across your back, his rifle against his back and he lifted you upwards, turning to get back to the dropship. He could hear your shallow breathing, could see the tears that collected at the corners of your eyes as you leaned your head against his shoulder, biting into your hand when he headed for the door, just barely muffling the whimpered groan that made its way up through your throat. He made a mental note to figure out why you did that when you were safe, back at the facility.

“I know you’re lying down, kid. But don’t fall asleep just yet.” He managed to saw as he called for an E-VAC.

There was a set of hands on you, a gruff voice talking to you, a hard surface beneath you. Above you was the roof of the dropship, the face of McCree looking down at you with concern hair falling around his face. Pain was shooting through your side, the wound at your shoulder doing the amount of a paper-cut in comparison. You could feel your eyes closing, eyelids heavy. Why did you bother trying to stay awake? It was so hard. Wouldn’t it be easier to just rest? A wet hand met your face, turning your gaze to a red lit visor, something sticky attaching to your face.

“Stay awake for me, [Y/N]. Don’t fall asleep.” The man in front of you said, almost pleading undertones in his voice. Despite his robotic face, he looked how you imagined your perpetually disappointed guardian angel to appear, if you had one. Maybe he spent his days drinking? You didn’t have time to entertain the thought, a retching sound hit your ears as you jerked, a splash of saliva and blood hitting the floor, doing nothing to relieve the pain in your abdomen and chest. You couldn’t breathe.

“Bloody hell - why does she sound like that?” a British voice asked.

“Punctured diaphragm, collapsed lung. We’re going to have to stabilise it ourselves.” The white-haired man said, taking some type of tool from a first aid kit.

A hand took yours, a flask of something put to your lips as you were made drink whatever burning liquid was in it. You thought you heard something like ‘just squeeze if it hurts Darlin’’ before immense pain hit your side, the ability to breathe becoming slightly easier, something putting pressure on your lungs as the hand in yours was set in a death grip. Weren’t you supposed to be good at this?

You felt hot, what was the temperature? Did it make a difference? The pain wasn’t so intense, so it had to be a good thing, right? There was more talking, but you didn’t pay much attention. Couldn’t pay attention. It felt like you were under water, everything blurry. You could feel your vocal cords vibrating in your throat, suggesting that you were speaking, or groaning – something that you couldn’t register. You felt hot, why was it so damn hot? An intense wave of tiredness washed over you, a fleeting memory of napping in the summer passed behind your eyes. Were you allowed to sleep?

Eight hours later, Doctor Mercy Ziegler was looking at you perplexed, her confusion evident. Your wounds weren’t as bad as the amount of blood on your clothing, nor Soldier: 76’s. You had only needed a few stitches and gauze, but only because she had to take out whatever was used to stabilize your lung in the first place. It was quite the ordeal, leaving you feeling stupid for wasting resources that someone else may have needed. But, in a way, it was the lack of care you required that scared you in the whole situation. Shouldn’t you be dead?

“You were shot, yes?” She asked, for the fourth time in the last hour to which you nodded yet again. You hadn’t understood it either and you didn’t like the alienated feeling it gave you in a room with both sets of eyes on you. “Hm. And there’s no extensive damage… Perhaps... no, that’s not it..”

“It’s not, what?” You asked, gaze on the doctor who was looking back through your files. Mumbling to herself about charts and scans.

“An effect of your travel in time and space.” She said, the gears of her mind churning, you could almost see the gears clicking into place.

“So, what? I get super powers now?” You asked, a sarcastic edge to your tone.

“No, not ‘super powers’. However, it seems likely that you may have gained some physical abilities –  aside from the mental effects. Such as your apparent regeneration.” Her eyes were on your wounds. “I will have to and this hypothesis to your medical file.”

“So… I’m free to go? Just like that?” You asked, standing up and pulling your shirt down, Doctor Ziegler nodded.

“There isn’t much I can do for you now, other than suggest you take things easy and rest.” She had a rather thoughtful tone to her voice, profound confusion evident. “We may need to run another scan.”

“You’ll want to talk to Winston about that first.” You stated, seeing him as the head of all things to do with scanning and any other scientific developments in the complex.

“Yes, yes. I will.” She dismissed, waving her hands to signal that you could leave.

You walked out of the med bay, seeking a much-needed shower, hoping to get clean and release the tension in your muscles. Walking presenting a dull, but manageable ache as the stitches pulled on your side. The universe left you with more questions than answers. Was the mission a success? Was the point even surveillance? Who were the enemy? Did anyone else get injured?

What was with the sympathetic looks you got when you talked about you home country?