A/N: Hola! I'm back! Here to hopefully play with your feelings again lol. As for this chapter, I'm kinda proud. I really don't know what else to say except I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for reading! I love reading your guys' comments. Also, to the person who asked why I don't have ao3 yet on the last chapter, I honestly don't know either. It seems kind of intimidating, but I'm inspired to get it now. Thank you for reading my works!

Hanahaki Disease.

A disease that stems from unrequited love. The infected typically only gets it if they have fallen hard, head-over-heels hard, and even then, the chances are slim—only two percent of those who experience unrequited love in their lives will be unlucky enough to develop the disease. The patients' lungs fill up with flower petals until, if it goes unbridled, their airways become restricted, preventing breathing and eventually leading to death by asphyxiation.

There are only two ways to prevent this pitiful demise before it happens.

Either make the person you're so deeply in love with love you back, or undergo a surgery that permanently removes the flowers—but at your feelings' expense.

Basically, in most cases, the patient forgets they ever loved the person.

They mysteriously still have memories of them. Good memories, bad memories, even the ones in between, just saying hello to them in class or hanging out with them in a group of friends at a party to pass the time. But anything relating to their love for that person or how they fell in love in the first place suddenly disappears.

Ochako Uraraka didn't want that for her.

She had Hanahaki. She knew it the moment that first flower petal left her lips.

She was skeptical for a while, doubting herself, but when she began to cough up more, she knew she couldn't deny it any longer. She couldn't chalk it up to some silly little cold or some weird new ingredient Bakugou had put in the food. Nope. She was simply just dying.

A week had gone by since then. It was one of the most stressful weeks of her life.

Ochako Uraraka had a lot on her mind each day. Being a Hero in training wasn't easy—rarely did she get more than a mere moment off, and most of her time she spent studying or finishing up homework or religiously preparing for an upcoming exercise or Quirk exam All Might had prompted them. And now, on top of all that, she was dying. Her stress levels had reached their peak, and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to blow her fuse, cry, or do a combination of both at the same time.

Her condition had only deteriorated over the week. The coughing was getting more frequent, and she'd have to run the bathroom multiple times a day just to keep herself from giving her classmates a reason to worry. There was nothing more embarrassing than telling them she had Hanahaki.

And she couldn't exactly tell Izuku. She'd never confessed her feelings to a boy before! She knew this was life and death, but she still couldn't get over that fear, as she hadn't even technically admitted her feelings to the girls yet. And by admitting them, she'd make it all the more real. Sometimes she liked to believe this was all some sort of sick dream. That she wasn't about to either meet her inevitable demise or lose all feelings for Izuku.

Unless she could make him love her back, of course.

But as she walked the short distance to class, him by her side completely unaware of what he'd done to her, talking to Iida about how lightning fast he was looking after Hatsume had fixed his costume to power up his Quirk, she realized that probably wasn't going to be the case.

After all, she was already at a disadvantage. Even getting Hanahaki in the first place meant her love was unrequited.

She sighed.

She barely even recognized it when Izuku said, "Uraraka, what's wrong?"

She looked up at him, slightly surprised to see him standing there. She was honestly shocked he was even paying attention to her at all with all that Quirk talk he and Iida were engaged in. Typically, she'd be the last thing on his mind. "O-Oh, nothing, really. Just stressed."

He nodded, but before he could turn back around, she coughed.

She coughed once.

She coughed twice.

That all-too-familiar flower feeling rose up in the back of her throat. She coughed up a few petals, and, having to come up with a counterattack on the spot, she did the only thing she could think of, reluctantly hiding them in her cheeks. She'd essentially just thrown up in her mouth.

"Are you sure?" Izuku asked, moving away in fear. He definitely didn't want whatever she had.

"Yeah, sorry. You know when you have a cold that just won't go away? Well, I think that's happening to me." She smiled, bonked her head, pretended to be a bit too much of an airhead in an effort to play her atypical actions off. "I guess September's just no good for me, huh?"

Izuku gave the slightest sign of a sigh. "Guess so," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn't help but notice the significant sound of a quiver in her voice, though, its high pitch unusually unnatural.

The reality of it all was that Ochako was freaking out. She was trying so hard to work around this, these foreign flowers springing up on the tip of her tongue, but her voice was getting hoarse, and if anyone took too close of a look they'd know she was trying to talk around something. God, she sounded like a middle-aged man!

As soon as Ochako was inside the building, she rushed to the bathroom.

She pulled the flower petals out of her mouth in bunches and stared at herself in the mirror.

For a second, she simply just stood there, trying her best to calm down. Today was already starting off on a bad note. Disposing of the evidence, she balled the petals up in a paper towel and threw them away.

She once again faced the mirror and sighed.

With pale cheeks and bags under her eyes and wobbly legs, it would not take even the simplest of smarts to figure out Ochako was tired. Too tired. The kind of tired that made you sick of standing up, the kind that had you falling asleep in class, and not of your own will.

She could barely sleep at night without waking up in a coughing fit, oftentimes being rattled out of her dreams by her traumatizing inability to breathe. She dreaded it, being awoken like that. Nearly nothing was scarier.

And so half the time she simply stayed awake.

The fear of sleeping was too much. Between waking up ten times and keeping her eyes open herself with the blinding light of her phone screen on full brightness, Ochako only slept five hours last night.

And for this week, she'd consider that good.

Ochako wasn't a soul who could live without sleep. She wasn't a Shinsou or a Tokoyami, who, thanks to his Quirk, thrived during the night. If she didn't get her beauty sleep, she was cranky, her bubbly self all burned up, everyone's worst nightmare. She'd much rather go to school on an eight-hour sleep schedule than five.

She gave her reflection a demonizing death stare, perusing her features. If she was another one of her classmates, she'd look at her from across the room and think she was the Grim Reaper himself.

She thought about Ectoplasm's algebra assignments and the upcoming training she'd have to do and began breathing heavily.

She wasn't ready for this.

She'd already proven she could barely train. This past week she'd taken more bathroom breaks than she could count on two hands simply just to recuperate.

She felt the itching sensation rile up in the back of her throat again. Double-checking that no one was around to witness what she was inevitably about to do, she heaved up a few more petals.

Bloody.

They'd never come out bloody before.

She didn't even know what kind of flower this was! It could be killing her faster than she knew—usually death dawned on the infected in the following few months, but sometimes it could be as early as three weeks, all depending on the flower. And if she didn't know what that was, she had no idea as to what was her fate.

In a fiery fury of emotions, Ochako began to cry. Silent tears, they were, but tears nonetheless.

She was so busy crying she didn't even hear the door being opened.

"Ochako?"

A concern-laden voice struck Ochako out of her trance. Tsuyu.

Tsuyu immediately ran over to help her. "Ochako! What's wrong?"

Ochako wiped her tears away. She couldn't be a crybaby, not in front of her friend.

It was then that she realized Tsuyu could easily see the petals sitting there in the palm of her hand. She collapsed into her arms. "Tsu," she sobbed. "I'm just so tired, and I haven't slept all week, and now I'm coughing up blood, and I'm really scared and—"

"Ochako, is this"—she looked down at the white petals inevitably drenched in red and then back up again—"Hanahaki?"

Ochako just stood there, stunned. She stared down at the floor in defeat.

"Ochako, you need to tell someone, ribbit. It's because of Midoriya, right? You need to tell him!"

Tsuyu was shaking her. She wasn't one to show much emotion, but when her friends were involved, she could break at the drop of a hat. Ochako looked into her eyes, a strong sense of fear emanating from their deep green, and couldn't help but feel an incredible surge of guilt rise up in the back of her throat like bile. Or maybe more like petals—white flower petals slowly turning more and more red as the days went by. It was her fault. Her fault Tsuyu was like this.

"I know, Tsu, but I'm scared." Ochako balled up her fists, the wet blossoms crumbling. Their remnants fell to the floor.

"So am I! For your life, Ochako. Please. Tell him, ribbit. If not for you, then for me."

"But what good's it gonna do? It's not like he'll love me. He's got so many other things to focus on. And I don't want the surgery, either, so—"

"'Chako, if you don't want the surgery, then you need to tell him. I'm not letting you die, ribbit. At least let him be aware."

Tsuyu made a point. If worse came to worst, he should probably at least know why she'd been acting so peculiar lately, and possibly why she'd died. After all, it would technically be his fault.

But the embarrassment of it all got the best of her.

She promised Tsuyu that although she wasn't totally sure yet—of anything, really—she'd at least try. For Tsu's sake. "I'll see if I can, okay? Just… Give me a bit of time. This… This is a lot."

Tsuyu, without wind of a warning, held her close. "That's fine, 'Chako. Don't feel bad about needing time. Nobody this age should have to go through this." She eventually let go, finger on her chin as she looked up into Ochako's chocolatey brown eyes. "But don't wait forever, ribbit. I don't want to lose you just yet."

That was Tsuyu's euphemism for dying.

Ochako smiled, calmed herself down. She needed to get used to this life, this life of perpetual hell, as she'd likely be living it for a while. How long—she didn't know. She could just end it right now with the surgery if she wanted to, but she wasn't totally liking the idea of giving up her feelings for Izuku.

Giving up her feelings for Izuku would essentially be giving up her drive.

Her drive to save people.

Then, it would just be about the money.

And not to mention her relationship with him would be ruined. He was her rock, her role model, her inspiration. The world wouldn't go on spinning the same without him.

She shook her head. She first off needed to tell Izuku how she felt and see where this went. Maybe she was one of those rare few who'd caught Hanahaki simply from thinking her love was unrequited when in reality that special someone liked her back. Maybe he did like her, just not to the extent that she liked him.

That was right. She should've held her head up higher. Besides, in the eyes of her classmates, she was all about positivity. Things were just turning out a little different now that she was in the face of death.

"O-Or your parents. You could tell your parents," Tsuyu suggested.

Ochako shook her head. "Not right now. They already have enough to worry about with the construction company and all. If it gets bad, I'll bug them about it, but let's just wait awhile and see where this goes. Besides, it's only been a week."

"A week since this started, ribbit?" Tsuyu questioned, an intense look of wonder on her face.

"Yeah. Since I coughed up the first petal."

"I know this might be off-topic, but do you know what type of flower it is?"

"No. I've also been coughing up the leaves a bit, too. Maybe because green is Deku's favorite color?"

Just then, they heard the door slam, as somebody had opened it hard enough for it to go flying and hit the back wall. It was Ashido. "You guys! Homeroom is about to start!"

Tsuyu did what she originally came in here to do, fix her uniform and her hair, and then hastily headed out. Ochako soon followed.

When Izuku asked her why she'd run off in such a hurry, Ochako made up some excuse about needing to clean her clothes and then running into a friend from the General Studies Course and losing track of time trying to play catch up with one another and talking about what'd been going on in their lives. He seemed to buy into it pretty easily. On her end, she'd lied to him a few times about where she'd been over the course of the past week, but each time he didn't question it. She was either an incredibly good liar, or he was just unbelievably dense. She had a feeling it was the latter.

As she coughed a few more times during class, pulling the poised petals out of her mouth and burying them deep inside her desk (she'd throw them away and clean the desk out later—she promised she wasn't that much of a degenerate), it got her thinking. After all, Tsuyu so suddenly asking what type of flower it was did get her curious.

"White camellias?"

"From the looks of these sample petals you've brought me, Uraraka, that's what they seem to be."

Ochako held back the urge to cough up more. The name sounded familiar, but they were still as much of a mystery as the existence of extraterrestrials or the reality of reincarnation.

"But… What do they symbolize? What do they mean?"

U.A.'s biology teacher, Mrs. Chibana, was a quiet old folk. In a way, she reminded Ochako of Recovery Girl, which was why she was so eager to call on her in her time of need.

Plus, being a science teacher not only zealous about biology but also about botany, the surrounding area was filled to the brim with potted plants, lining the walls and window sills and bins in the back of the room like beanstalks, and she was bound to know a lot about flowers.

"Well, I can look them up for you, hon. But as of right now, I can only tell you as much as I know. Their color is stunningly white, and it immediately makes me think of purity. That's what white represents, doesn't it?"

The elderly woman looked at her, as if she was the one with the answers. Ochako just shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, back in my day, I have heard that a few times. I've also heard white can mean innocence and light, goodness and clarity. It's easy to see that white usually has a positive connotation, isn't it?"

Ochako nodded her head.

She wasn't willing to ask about the green, but she assumed she was only coughing up that color because it was Izuku's favorite.

"But"—and the old lady got out her computer, needing a little help from Ochako as to how to work it—"I can look up the meaning of this specific flower for you right now if you really want me to."

"Yes, please!"

Ochako waited patiently as she watched Mrs. Chibana's face fall. Her own rosy cheeks seemed to dimmer in accordance to hers in the afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Uraraka, remind me of why you needed these flowers again?"

Ochako searched for an excuse. "O-Oh, um, I found some in the garden outside my dorm and, well, I was thinking of giving a few to my friends—"

"I would strongly advise against that."

Ochako tilted her head. A knot grew taut in the pit of her stomach. "Huh? Why?"

"Because they symbolize death."

To the rest of the unruffled world, it'd seem like a normal day. The trees blowing outside, harmless and innocuous flowers dancing wildly in the wind, birds chirping and bees buzzing and butterflies flying high in the sky getting their first lick of freedom—in everyone else's but Ochako's eyes, not a single thing seemed out of place. But for Ochako, everything came crashing down.

Ever since she was little, Ochako was one to believe in things that were typically considered inconceivable—miracles, jinxes, miraculous forces of nature. Zodiac signs, ghosts—hell, even vampires. That last one was a bit of a stretch, but somewhere in the deep depths of her mind, she liked to think that maybe, just maybe, in some sort of alternate reality, there existed a world where there wasn't a barrier between ordinary life and the supernatural purgatory.

So thinking these flowers symbolizing death was just a coincidence was completely out of the question.

The walk back to the dorms that day was a weary one. She was alone, her classmates texting her where she'd been, all already back probably sitting happily on the common room couches without a care in the world.

She was on edge, knowing that the flowers pouring endlessly out of her throat were never meant to be given to anyone as a gift, as their sinister meaning was less of a peace offering and more of a big "eff you" to whoever was lucky enough to receive them.

Did this seal her fate? Was she going to die?

Maybe she'd just let herself whisk away. Izuku didn't even have to know.

But her poor parents.

Images of them flooded her mind, moments where they were happy, sad, somewhere in between. She remembered one night they were working in a neighbor's backyard and she ran out to greet them, and, her body being light as a feather—as any eight year old's would—they picked her up with ease, spinning her around and around in their arms until she couldn't see straight and, in a moment of panic, forced them to let her down. She then tried practicing with her own Quirk, saying that they didn't need to lift her up—she could do it all on her own, and she'd even become a Hero to prove it. That sure put a smile on their faces.

She couldn't just let herself perish. Definitely not for their sake.

Ochako looked up. Before she knew it, she was already back at the dorms.

Everyone greeted her as soon as she walked through the door. She, sapped of energy, sat down on the couch.

With Izuku on her right and Tsuyu on her left, Ochako, her two favorite people beside her, immediately fell asleep.

Izuku turned toward her, startled by the sudden sound of snoring. Iida turned as well, face finally out of his phone, as he wasn't scrolling through what most would assume to be social media but instead looking over Present Mic's assignments for weekend homework.

"Uraraka?" Izuku asked.

Nothing.

Izuku looked over at Iida. "How tired must she have been to just fall right asleep?"

"Very. We should probably leave her alone now, Midoriya. She must have had a long week."

Izuku watched as Ochako toppled toward Tsuyu, falling faintly into her chest. Tsuyu took it like a real professional, giving her a pat on the head and sitting her back up on the couch. "She's been… stressed," Tsu said.

Izuku wanted to ask more on that, but he had a gut feeling that maybe, right now, in the middle of a mess of all of his classmates, that wasn't the best idea. So instead he studied her, her soft features, and noticed this wasn't the usual Ochako Uraraka, the bubbly one he was used to. All week, now that he thought about it, she'd seemed out of it, as if an inevitable doom was impending on her. And now, today, she had just toppled over in tiredness.

Upon closer look, Izuku noticed her face seemed fixed in fear, ghostly white. Purple bags hung heavily under her eyes, and her eyebrows seemed permanently knitted into this upturned position, this position of worry, this position of wear. And, as she smiled in her sleep, seemingly dreaming of french fries and apple fritters and pies—as she mumbled—he came to the grim realization that this was probably the first time since Monday he'd seen her put on even the slightest hint of a grin.

Stressed was an understatement.

Izuku balled up his fists.

"I'm gonna take her upstairs," Tsuyu said. "I think she needs some rest, ribbit."

Izuku nodded, telling her to go. He gave her his condolences. "I hope Uraraka feels better."

"I hope so, too. Must've just been a bad week, ribbit." Tsuyu threw Ochako's arm over her shoulder, finally snapping her awake.

"Tsu? Where are we going?" she asked. "Where am I?"

"I'm taking you up to your room. You've been sleeping."

The two of them made their way toward the elevator, and Izuku pulled out his notes.

Instead of doing his usual writing on Heroes, however, he ripped out a page and titled it "What Could Possibly Be Wrong with Ochako Uraraka."

He made a list.

It went somewhere from fatigue and insecurities to more serious topics like wanting to drop out of U.A. or dealing with formidable financial problems at home. He added suicidal depression into the mix, just in case. Besides, he had been there too, long before his days at U.A., so if that was the case he wanted to help her.

When he looked up, he came face to face with none other than the class's buoyant ball of energy, Mina Ashido.

"Worried about Ochako, huh, Midoriya?"

He jumped back, Ashido's impulsivity scaring the living daylights out of him, a few feet away from tumbling over the top of the couch. "U-Uh, yeah, a little."

His cheeks heated up. So close!

Finally, much to his relief, Ashido stood up straight. "So am I, to be honest," she said, and Izuku knew she meant it. Much like he did, she cared for Ochako. "She hasn't been herself lately. Not enough people have noticed."

"Here, I have an idea!" she suddenly shouted out. "Why doesn't one of us ask her? Clearly something's up, or else she wouldn't be acting this way."

Iida interjected. "Ashido, don't you think that's getting a bit too involved in her personal life? Maybe we should leave this to Tsuyu."

She looked over at him in spite, attention no longer drawn to the boy she'd originally come here to talk to. "It's just hard for me to sit idly by when she's having such a tough time, you know? I wanna make sure she's okay."

Iida and her broke out into a bicker about it until Izuku decided to flee the scene.

Although, she did get him thinking—maybe, with all this worry whirling up in his mind, he should try to butt into it a bit more, after all.

Ochako showed up at breakfast the next morning wearing a face mask.

Over the course of the last night, she had stayed up doing her research. Camellias weren't a particularly big blossom, meaning her Hanahaki wouldn't become fatal any faster than it would with any other flower, but it also wouldn't be especially slower, either. She decided that for her own sanity, it was probably best to not dwell on it.

She also learned that white camellias really did symbolize death. Somewhere deep in the intricacies of her own mind, she'd really hoped it was all some sort of fever dream, but now she seriously had to give up on her last hope. She did a little more digging and learned of what surgery could do to her love for Izuku and her potential for falling in love in the future and got scared. It was then that she closed the tab.

As getting the surgery meant that she would no longer love him. And not only that, but although she'd still be able to fall in love from here on out, it probably wouldn't feel the same as it did right now. It would feel less real, so to speak. Having Hanahaki would weigh down on whatever potential feelings were blooming in her heart, leaving its own legacy, its own mark.

She definitely didn't want that.

She sighed. Honestly, at that point, if it wasn't for her parents, she'd take an early death.

The moment those elevator doors opened up, her classmates stared at her in disbelief. Sero, who had a debilitating fear of sickness—even the common cold, as he oftentimes believed it was most definitely a sign of something more deadly—was the first to speak up. "Uraraka, what's with that mask?"

"Oh, this?" she said. She played with the rubber band around her ear, wrapping it around her finger. "I've kinda caught a cold lately, and I don't wanna spread it to you guys, so I decided this morning maybe I should wear it. Sorry if it bothers you."

Ochako sat down at the breakfast table, completely calm and casual. She cut into a bundle of blueberry pancakes and, hoping to wash away the taste of blood and spring sprouting up in her mouth, she ate, moving her mask to the side. She ate fast, shoveling forkfuls in with each bite, and there was a certain alacrity in the way she cleared her plate, as if she couldn't be around her classmates for much longer in fear that something bad was bound to happen. She also needed some fuel to keep up her energy, as sleep wasn't going to cut it.

She didn't dare dart her eyes even ever so slightly to the right. She could feel him burning a hole into her back, skepticism written all over his face, and she didn't even have to look over at him to know. Izuku was supposed to be dense. Couldn't he just ignore her and totally forget about her at a time like this?

She excused herself as soon as she was done.

Besides, the urge to cough was getting stronger, and she couldn't just casually do that in front of her classmates. Halfway down the hall to her room, she got a text.

Hey.

It was Izuku.

He continued.

Can I come talk to you?

Seeing she'd read his messages but hadn't responded, he added, Please?

She looked down at her phone. Incredulous, she asked, Why?

Because I wanna talk to you. And I know something's up.

Oh. So he was suspicious.

Ochako thought back to Tsuyu's words of wisdom. It's because of Midoriya, right? You need to tell him!

She sighed. Hesitated. And then all of a sudden it occurred to her, and she thought, Well, it's now or never.

And so she texted him. Reluctantly, she pulled up her keyboard, managing to spell out an uncertain and unsure okay.

She mentally prepared herself as she sat up in bed. She took out the bin from beneath her bureau and violently hacked up a few more petals. The attacks were getting worse, what she heaved up from her lungs no longer just singular parts of a blossom but now more whole ones. She could probably piece together full-fledged flowers if she wanted to, but that would be weird, and a little bit gross. She'd rather not play around with her own saliva.

She kept one single petal for safekeeping, one not laced with blood.

A knock at her door. Curiously, she glanced down at her phone. I'm here.

She stood up, reluctance in her step, having second thoughts as she reached for the end of the doorknob, but ultimately, she let him in.

"Hey," she said. "Sorry my room's a mess." She patted the back of her neck.

"It's okay." He, a certain diffidence in his voice, was hesitant to get to the point. "I honestly haven't cleaned mine in forever. And, besides, I'm guessing you've been struggling, so…"

She decided to play dumb. "S-Struggling? What do you mean?"

"Uraraka," he said, his voice deflated, "you think I haven't noticed?"

When she didn't say anything, he looked down at the ground, twiddled his thumbs. The fact that he was in a girl's room completely escaped his mind. The silence getting the best of him, he continued. "You've… You've been coughing all week, and yesterday you fell asleep immediately after getting back to the dorms, and now you show up in the common room with a face mask, and you're looking really pale, and… Well, you get the point."

Ochako sighed. This was an unavoidable conversation, she guessed. "Deku, there's something I should tell you."

When she didn't get a response, she lifted her chin up. There he was, pacing around the middle of her bedroom floor, rambling. "And I know you said you're sick, and I might be reading too much into it, but—"

"Deku!"

He stood up straight, a slight hiccup in his voice. "Yes! Sorry, Uraraka."

She pressed her fingers together, kicked her legs at the edge of her bed. It was a nervous habit of hers. "You're not reading too much into it, and I'm not sick. Well, not in the way you're thinking of, at least. I lied."

A jolt of edgy electricity coursed through her body. There was no turning back now.

"U-Uraraka, what do you mean?"

She pulled out the bin from beneath the base of her bed. She'd hidden it there not to scare him, but now, she realized, she needed it for her explanation, or he just simply would not have believed her. "I promise it's not puke," she said. "Just… look."

Izuku was startled as soon as the scent of flowers permeated the room. He walked over to her bed, over to her, suspicious as the smell grew strangely stronger. He hesitantly peeked his head over the side of the bin.

Flowers. Loads of beautiful, cream-colored flowers, green leaves attached. Or, more accurately, petals. Some of them were bright red and bloodied.

"U-Uraraka, what—"

"Deku, do you know what this is?"

He had his guess. Although, he didn't want to believe it. "I-It couldn't be. Uraraka, is this…"

She knew what he was going to say. She nodded her head.

"B-But— Hanahaki? That can kill you! Uraraka, how? Who did this to you?" Izuku scrunched up his eyebrows, deciding to put some compassion into his words. After all, it wasn't anyone's fault, never mind the one she loved. He guessed he was just a little bit startled, was all, a little bit scared for her life. "O-Or, that means you're in love with someone, right? Who?"

Slowly, Ochako raised her hand. He watched her wide-eyed as she pointed dead center at his chest.

"You."

A/N: Okay, this is where things get real. Sorry for leaving you all on a cliffhanger, but next chapter's gonna get good. And, once again, thank you all for reading! I'm really enjoying writing this! Also, Izuku keeps trying to correct to Issue and it's annoying as hell. Like, we all already know you're the problem child! And for some reason the A/N at the start of this chapter is glitching. I'm sorry about that; I can't get it to fix. Hopefully it doesn't bug you guys too much.