Chapter 40

Mom still couldn't get up out of bed the next day, too winded to get up and too exhausted to sleep without having another seizure to wipe her out, so I spent the next morning mostly lying in bed. And then the next, and the day after that that. I told myself I should have been using it to be more productive, like working on my comic or doing laundry, but I just didn't have the motivation to get up. My stomach ached not in sickness but rather that I had put off going downstairs to grab something to eat. It was already past lunch right now and my lips were starting to crack from the lack of water. I wrinkled my nose. I had worn the same PJs for the last three days, not bothering to change out of them even after I had started to notice my BO from inside my Purdue Boilermaker pull-over. This funk came after I made the mistake of picking up my phone when I became too internet starved and reading the notifications on my phone.

I saw a large burst of notifications on Facebook about the lightsaber academy drawings expecting to see compliments, something that I fed on when I was feeling low. Instead I saw comments teasing me about my new relationship and asking what the comic drawings were of. Horrified, I quickly went into the post and I saw my mistake before editing which photos I had meant to upload, but the damage had already been done. Instagram was going nuts and Patre0n was even worse. For the last couple of days, I had been slammed with PMs and community posts about what was up with the latest pages. At first, I had thought they hadn't uploaded. Then I saw what I had done. One of the pages had been what I meant to post, and the other had been one of my personal sketches, the one of Izuku and I kissing on the beach. What made the situation even worse was that I had accidentally posted the pages for all tiers to see, so not only was I getting comments that pointed out my mistake but comments from enraged readers pointing out a massive spoiler, even if it was only partially. Thank god Webtoon had a cap on how many early access episodes a reader could access, otherwise I would have been screwed there too (I was still an arc and a half ahead on there).

After writing a quick apology post on my Patre0n, I quickly took down the picture and replaced it with the correct page, but it was already too late. Pictures and screenshots of the drawing had already started cycling around on my Twitter, even turning it into memes, saying Hareraiser had hit the villain so hard that he punched the second page into another reality. I had spent the whole morning scrolling through my phone and my various social media and art pages trying to do damage control. Now, I was just trying to numb the pain a bit by losing myself in the void of badly written fan-fiction.

Billie Eilish's "lovely" was playing continuously in the background while I lay there curled up on my bed. I didn't really care for the artist, but I remembered listening to the song on a mixed CD Jo-Elle had made that we listened to every morning on the way to GenCon. My autism had a bad habit of making me hyper-focused on things- a song, a show, a quote, a moment, a smell. It didn't matter if it fit the mood of the situation or didn't relate at all to the current way that I felt. I didn't get to pick what stuck, but whatever grabbed a hold of me held on so tightly that I could go for months, if not years, doing the exact same thing and never getting bored. Case in point, the song I was listening to had a play-count of two hundred and forty-three. The monotony was probably what drove Jo-Elle to march into my room.

"Okay, this has got to stop," Jo-Elle declared with exasperation, popping in to see I was still exactly where she had left me, which was buried under five blankets. I narrowed my eyes at her before pulling the fallen covers over my shoulder. Like the lyrics of the song I was listening to, I felt like I had aged one hundred years.

"If you're here to give me a lecture on what a horrible, lazy person I am, I'm already aware so I don't need to hear it from you," I sighed with a low grumble, "Just leave me alone to die."

"Don't be so dramatic. No one's died and you're not dead yet." I ignored her. "Seriously, Alyssa, this isn't healthy."

"I didn't ask for your opinion. It's not like I roll over and tell you to just get over it when you're upset. Just let me grieve." You didn't just screw up your whole life with a handful of words. You didn't just fall in love with a guy you've only known for a month. You didn't just get your heartbroken.

"Have you talked to Izuku?"

"No..."

"Has he seen the drawings?"

"...I don't know."

Jo-Elle let out a soft breath through her nose, causing it to whistle slightly. "I know you've heard me say this before, but I really think you should consider seeing a therapist."

"Why? Because I'm so broken?" I grumbled, rolling over to give her a sharp glare.

"No, because they can help," she corrected, frowning at my defensiveness. "It's okay to ask for help and not be okay all the time. I've done it. You should talk to someone who's a licensed professional to help you with this kind of stuff. They can help you come up with strategies and coping mechanisms and make you feel better."

"Right. Like I have time to go see a therapist."

"They're are online ones. I used a couple different apps before I found out which therapist I liked more."

"You make it sound so easy." Anxiety could be 'cured' with medicine, but there was no cure for what I had. There was no fixing a mental disorder, especially one as complicated as autism, especially when it created so many problems that I faced like anxiety, hypersensitivity, social ineptness that resulted from misunderstandings and 'lack of common sense' as my boss Masako liked to put it.

"Giving up and accepting how things are isn't going to make things better with Izuku. You're only making things harder for yourself."

Instead of answering her, I just laid there, too exhausted to argue with her. Jo-Elle stood there for a moment and then sighed before leaving. She didn't get it. It wasn't just about Izuku anymore. I was dealing with a pile of other worries. What if people put two-and-two together and found out who I was? What if my mom found out? What if SmallMight had seen the post? His review had been absent from the slush pile of comments I had received- which I knew after sifting through each and every question, praise, critique, and troll -so it was possible that he hadn't seen it. Then again, he was good-natured enough to recognize when a mistake was made and not hold it over a person.

As for Izuku, I was too scared to see what his response would be. Nothing new had come since the first day, so maybe he hadn't seen them. Still though, maybe it was possible he wouldn't make the connection yet. Tons of people reposted artwork online everyday. Tumblr made its living off of reposts. Paranoia rising to the surface, I found myself looking back at my older messages from him again.

Which hospital

Where are you?

Are you okay?

Alyssa?

I'm sorry.

I never meant to lie to you...

I'm sorry things got so messed up in the end. I never meant to overstep my boundaries. You're right. I never told you who I was. I never told you a lot of things. I'm sure deep down I didn't want to because I enjoyed not being Deku in that moment with you so much. If you don't believe you can trust me anymore, that's fine. Just know that my feelings for you were real.

I hope you can forgive me. Sorry to bother you.

I reread these words over and over, wondering what his thoughts had been when he had sent them. Of course, that had been before I had gotten slammed with the other notifications and basically risked my anonymity with one stupid, emotional slip-up. I thought often about replying out of courtesy, but I couldn't just say 'sorry' and have everything go away but the longer I waited to respond, the smaller the window of opportunity shrank for me to fix our relationship, if there was anything left to fix. What if I took everything back now only to have it all be for nothing, or worse what if it was going be a problem again and it was be held over my head months later after a single mistake? That's how all of the fights with my mother had ended up. That was just how we Blakes were. Forgetful, yes, but we had long memories and it was hard to release grudges once they held on.

Revulsion and self-loathing flooded through me, upset that I couldn't even find solace in the one thing I had felt socially comfortable in indulging in when the rest of the world rejected me and my way of thinking. I hated that I couldn't 'adult' properly, that I had to be told how to be a human being. It should have been simple to socialize with people in real life, to be more organized, to be hygienic. It should have been the easiest thing in the world to do the right thing and say 'I'm sorry.' Children were taught that at a very young age, but I had interpreted it as 'don't say you're sorry unless you really mean it' because people rarely ever meant it if they kept doing it over and over. I had been punished for false sorrys, both my own and in broken promises. If I wasn't autistic, I wouldn't have had this level of social anxiety and would have processed my emotions better rather than flipping out over a routine getting messed up. If I wasn't autistic, I wouldn't have misunderstood so much and felt shamed and stupid for my lack of awareness. If I wasn't autistic, I would still be with Izuku right now instead of lying around in my own filth feeling sorry for myself, hating myself.

After running around in this cycle over and over for the last three days, I had run myself into the ground from emotional exhaustion and apathy, finally hitting that strange level of tiredness from not doing anything. I didn't want to feel this way anymore. I stared at the mess that surrounded me and, in a moment of clarity, dragged myself out of bed and started cleaning. I began shoving piles of clothes into a laundry basket and peeled off my pajamas before jumping in for a hot shower and started scrubbing three days worth of filth from my body. Then once I had thrown on some fresh clothes, I threw out any trash or dead plants I spotted; the parsley wasn't doing too good, but there was still enough greenery that picking off the dead leaves made it look somewhat healthy.

No one had forced me to clean my room or told me to pick myself up. I wasn't doing it for my mother or my sister or out of any family obligation or threat or even the worry that Izuku would have come over and seen it. I had chosen to do this by myself at my own pace, and I took satisfaction in that feeling. It made me feel some sort of accomplishment, like I had taken some herculean effort by simply getting out of bed. I lifted up my various knick-knacks and tchotchkes so I could dust, shoving some of them into the pretty Deku figure box I had saved to go through later. Almost done with my desk, I paused at the #1 Hero medal I had lying on my desk. I held it reverentially in my hand, my thumb tracing the rough lettering on the otherwise smooth metal surface as I recalled how happy Izuku had been when we had won what would have normally been such a mediocre, immature competition, before setting it back down on the desk. Sitting adjacent to it on my bookshelf was the only Deku figure I owned aside from the keychain on my work lanyard. The smoothness of the PVC plastic still brought me a sense of calm even though thinking about him only brought me a sense of ennui. Even now, I didn't have the heart to put the figure away, so I moved onto the next shelf, the one filled with Funko POP!s and my Kylo Ren figure, the latter reminding me that I had missed a week's worth of sword practice.

I eyed the pink tote that had remained untouched sitting in the corner with my sabers. When was the last time I had cleaned out my bag? It had to be awhile, since the last time I could recall going through it I had been in the states and was cleaning out my car. Without hesitation, I dumped the tote onto my somewhat clean floor, pulling out the various sports equipment, trash bags, water-bottles, and the occasional discarded granola wrapper that had collected in the bag over the last several practices. Then I spotted a familiar black workbook, lying flattened at the bottom of my bag: it was my N-3 kanji book.

"FINALLY!" I exclaimed in triumph, remembering with a vague, sudden recall of me wanting to keep it on me so it would be safe during the move and so I would have something to read and practice my Japanese. It always was in the last place that you looked. The thrill and relief of finding it for my comic was fleeting, replaced by regret, frustration, and disbelief. My eyes flitted towards the Deku figure box sitting in the corner with all of my junk shoved into it. It felt redundant to translate it now, but I wanted to be sure. Tugging the box over so I could inspect it closely, I looked up the characters in my workbook and discovered belatedly that they spelled "Deku." I ran my hand over my face in exasperation. The answer had quite literally been staring at me in the face this entire time, only I had been too ignorant and oblivious to see it. The self-loathing came back in a hot flash before I quelled it with the knowledge that I could now look Deku up on the internet and have no issues.

Pulling up a fresh tab on my browser, I typed the characters out and pulled out a large search engine of articles and videos. Some were harder to find, since for some reason parts of the article would tag him as 'can do' or 'Dekiru' or 'Midori', but once I had this thought process in mind, the search history was much easier to navigate. I never really watched the news before, only picking up articles that looked interesting that happened to pop up on my news feed when I was logging into my email. Now, however, I found myself elbows deep in news articles and stories, ten tabs open and even more on the HNN app on my phone. I had to know. I had to know if I was in the right to be angry. Then I could finally put this whole issue behind me and move forward.

The first video I pulled up was from the news story about the stopped subway trains on the Metro, something I remembered from having looked at the blurry pictures I had taken of him for reference many times. The video footage were B-roll film reels the reporters had pieced together from various YouTube clips and feeds, some of which had eight second videos of green flashes in the dark subway tunnel like found cryptid footage and others with Deku standing above the collapsed villain before pulling off his cowl in exhaustion wearing one of his bright, cheesy grins. If I had stayed a second longer, I would have seen that smile live. I watched as they hauled Makkusu Diron away in an ambulance and Deku follow behind them to talk anxiously with the EMTs. He hadn't stuck around for interviews, but Kaminari, of all people, stated that Deku had stopped the villain all while making sure the criminal didn't injure himself further. "That's just the kind of guy Deku is," the electric blonde stated, "He cares about everyone, even the bad guys."

My throat had gone dry at his words, feeling a pulse of affection before I swallowed and moved onto the next news clip. Being nice didn't prove anything... The next story I had pulled up was much less heroic, involving an accusation that a Japanese hero known as 'Deku' was wanted as a mass murderer after having massacred twelve people in a police stand-off in the capitol city of Otheon, though thankfully, that proved to be false as retractions and reposted film reels about a conspiracy involving a global cult called Humarize stationed in the small European nation fixed this. I vaguely recalled hearing something about a bomb threat in New York and San Francisco years ago being attempted by the terrorist group, mainly because it was an advocate for Quirkless people and extremist towards those who had Quirks, but I brushed it off as it wasn't unusual to hear about a bomb threat or shooting in the US, tragic as that was to admit; after awhile, the incidents just sort of all blurred together. The pro-hero looked younger, more naïve and less hardened than the Deku I had seen in the last story.

Smaller stories intermingled with these headlines. A charity outreach program being encouraged with other pro-heroes, street interviews with fans, a news quote about Deku wanting people to be careful about bike thieves and safety. The latest pro-hero leaderboard announcements had him listed on it so impersonally that I nearly missed his name at the number eighteen spot, like he was a statistic instead of a person, not even bothering to give him a headshot that the Top Ten heroes normally had secured with their rank; that's how I knew about Ground Zero. Nothing, however, could have prepared me for the next story.

News stories of a wild car chase involving a runaway bank truck showed images of Izuku following after on traffic cameras and shaky candid footage of him catching the totaled truck as it rolled in mid-air, followed by images of the hero standing over the blanketed bodies of the villains and the officers injured in the conflict, covered in blood and a horrified expression. I recalled the torn tennis shoes and the strange recollection of him smelling like iron with sudden clarity, but I had ignored it, figuring it was just rain run-off when I had seen him. He had that thousand mile stare people got after seeing something terrible that they could never forget, something that made him feel so far out of reach. It turned out, that he had.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really... not yet, anyways."

Okay, so the car chase had been true, but there was nothing proving anything else he had told me had been accurate. So far, there had been no evidence to back his claims of cleaning Takoba Beach by himself, much less that All Might had chosen him to do it as part of his hero training. The articles I had pulled up on the beach hadn't gone into how the beach had gotten clean, just ending up as a small puff piece in a small time Musutafu newspaper to welcome in tourists for the summer season. Deciding to run on a different thread, I started pulling up Izuku's name along with the words 'All Might,' interchanging it with 'Deku' and some of his other online aliases. Less stories followed, mostly swallowed by the large slush pile of articles and videos the behemoth Symbol of Peace usually generated. However, one article at the bottom of a Google search had tagged Izuku's name in the summary.

'The Death of All Might, Number One Hero's Final Farewell'
"All Might's Funeral Brings Millions of People Together for the Biggest Memorial in History
"
By: Jaeu Jona Jamusonu

Beloved by many of the public, the daunting pro-hero Toshinori Yagi formerly known as 'All Might' was mourned by the people of Japan last Sunday on XX-XX-20XX. Due to complications resulting from preexisting injuries and general organ failure, the Symbol of Peace died at Jaku Central Hospital last Thursday on XX-XX-20XX while undergoing surgery. Doctors ruled that the external injuries and extremities as blunt force trauma, internal bleeding, and respiratory failure as the cause of death and not malpractice.

The memorial service's attendance ran into the millions to witness the event that has quickly become one of the most attended events of the century next to the passing of the last emperor, _ Naruhito. While All Might's memorial service was viewed around the world by billions, Toshinori Yagi was mourned his students and fellow UA faculty members for a more private farewell in Shinohoshi Cemetary...

Izuku's name appeared at the bottom of the picture among the students listed in the class photo, who had stood uneasily at the front with his shorter classmates, including all of the people I had seen at the karaoke party. Another myth debunked: All Might really had taught at UA, and Izuku had been one of his students. They had all been his students. Then the other details of the article came back, involving All Might's death and the hospital he had been taken to. What had Izuku been feeling, stepping into that hospital of all places? The place that All Might had taken his last breath in. It gave me shivers just thinking about it and a sliver of regret. My yelling at him probably didn't help add to the pleasant memories of that hospital. Regardless, it didn't prove that Izuku had any sort of close relationship with All Might, like being chosen to become the next great hero. That could have just been the expectation that all students felt from their teachers. Still though, those tears I had seen him cry the night I had comforted him in the park didn't look like crocodile tears for my expense or ones that a fan would shed over a beloved celebrity; even the over-the-top obsessive fans didn't cry that much. My mind weighed on that thought as I read the last All Might related article I had pulled up with Izuku's name highlighted.

'All Might's Will and Legacy'
"Who is the Successor to the Symbol of Peace?
"
By: Marijanu Watusonu

It was leaked in a recent interview that the fortune to the Symbol of Peace has been revealed to be largely left to an unknown third party, referred to only as the Successor. Reports declare that the name has been revealed to the parties in attendance for the reading of the will but was not heard by our source. With dozens of stocks and income listed in retail, box office, licensed merchandise, entertainment, Jet-Aircraft sales, TV revenue, books, and theme parks, the All Might brand had struck out into the billions, making it one of the highest grossing media franchises in the world, competing with Hello Kitty, Star Wars, and Pokémon. Factoring in the lawsuits over unlicensed merchandise, payment for property damages in fights, and donations to the many charity and non-profit organizations, the All Might fortune still ranges into that high money cap that just barely puts him into the one percent.

With a dozen baseless leads coming in every day and the former Number One hero leading an extremely private life, only theories and wild speculations can be made about the Successor of All Might as the heroic Symbol of Peace had no living relatives, leaving not only an empire of riches but a legacy to live up to. A mystery inheritor, some conspiracy theorists claim, could possibly be a reference to a student or upcoming hero or former sidekick All Might had chosen to inherit his legacy as the will stipulated that 'everything is to be left to my legacy and those I have left behind,' while others claim it was a reference to a potential secret lovechild conceived over the years as many individuals have come forward claiming so even during All Might's prime, but no such rumors have been confirmed as true. Reports of Melissa Shield, daughter of David Shield, All Might's former sidekick, have speculated her to be the Successor and All Might's secret love child, but these allegations have also proved to be false through DNA testing and her Quirkless status.

"I could stand here forever going on about guessing who the Successor is, but in the end it doesn't matter," spoke Shouta Aizawa, pro-hero known as Eraserhead and fellow faculty member of UA. "What does matter is that the legacy of All Might lives on in the hearts and minds of those he had swore to protect"...

Standing next to Aizawa was an image of Izuku as one of the people in attendance for the meeting, appearing in the background with a handful of other, more well-known pro-heroes that had appeared at the press conference. He looked worn down and almost awkward standing next to the other heroes at the agency, wearing a hideous suit and tie so haphazardly thrown together that it belonged on a cheesy Japanese game-show. "He wanted me to become the next Symbol of Peace." Izuku's somber words came back at me all at once. It could have been a coincidence, right? There was no way someone so ordinary could be the successor of All Might. His hero agency was broke and looked about as rundown as Izuku had described. Surely someone with all that money wouldn't let his own business fail and fettered all of the money away in such a short amount of time? He couldn't be an inheritor.

Then I thought about how my mother had discussed her will and inheritance to Jo-Elle and I when her survival rate for her cancer was still uncertain, how it was something I was supposed to receive and have access to when I had turned thirty along with a hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy. It wasn't a lot compared to the multi-billion dollar franchise that All Might was, but it was enough that most bills could be paid off for a few years and, if managed wisely, that I could partially pay for my kids to go to college (if I ever had any). Maybe Izuku didn't have access to his inheritance because it was bound up as a trust-fund or maybe the lawyers had trussed everything up with red tape that he couldn't have access to it. That was a lot of money to give to a twenty something. What kind of pressure did that put on him? I felt overwhelmed by just trying to deal with inheriting bills for a house and four cars with insurance and mortgages to still pay off. I couldn't imagine the kind of pressure a billion dollar industry could be on a kid's shoulders in addition to trying to be a hero in the eyes of the public, to be seen as worthy. Then I thought about how Izuku had talked about how he hadn't seen his father in years and how he saw All Might more as a father figure. Maybe he was related to him..?

Stop it, Alyssa! That's a blind accusation. Look what speculation did to you last time! I smacked myself in the face before I realized my hands were starting to shake. Even if Deku turned out to be the Successor, he was still Izuku Midoriya, the kind hero who had escorted me home when I was feeling sick and had come to visit me while my mother was in the hospital. The man who had taken time out of our date to help me save a bunch of washed up jellyfish rather than question why I would want to drop everything to help a bunch of disgusting, amorphous blobs that could potentially hurt me. A man who tried to save everyone when it was hopeless and cared about everyone's feelings and well-being, even if they were ungrateful to him and his efforts. The only person who had ever shown up when I had invited them to lightsaber class and didn't mind if I had effectively invited myself to a party of his by mistake. And I had made him feel like the scum of the earth.

Tears began slipping past my eyes before I had could stop them, running down my cheeks and neck. What had I done? I had just made one of the nicest people I had ever known cry and made him feel bad about himself when he was already dealing with so much. I needed to make this right. I needed to talk to him, to apologize. Liar or not, my sins far outweighed his own.

My finger hovered over the character button on my keypad, but nothing written was ever sent. Even now with my emotions at a boil, I still couldn't type the words. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I do this? Would I only just make things worse by apologizing? No, this isn't about you, Alyssa. This is about Izuku and how you made him feel. There is nothing more you could possibly do to make this worse so JUST DO IT! I admonished myself, but it gave me no more courage to write than the last time. So I went somewhere else for advice. Jo-Elle would have been no help and neither would Gabby, having even less involvement. I needed a male's perspective. I needed my best friend. I needed SmallMight39.

Fingers moved rapidly with shaky keystrokes as I typed in my password and after making about five mistakes due to my quivering hands, I was on my app. While I stared blankly at SmallMight's PM chat, I realized that my feelings for him weren't that of a rebound or a fallback, but as a friend. Even though he was my safety net, I didn't want my safety net. I wanted Izuku. I wanted to be with him. Money or not, Deku or not, it didn't change how I felt about him.

Muse-Musume: Smol, are you there? I need some advice.
Muse-Musume: You know that guy that I was dating, the one I thought things were going really well with?
Muse-Musume: I... well, I screwed it up. I screwed it all up because of one misunderstanding, and now everything is RUINED because I let my anxiety take over.
Muse-Musume:
I thought him and this other guy were two completely different people, and ended up realizing too late that they were the same exact person, someone who I had been fan-girling over for months before I realized it.
Muse-Musume: Yeah, he lied to me about who he was, but after all the stuff that I heard about him, I think I understand why he didn't want to tell me.
Muse-Musume: But of course, because I was too emotional and irrational, I didn't want to listen to anything he said. Now I can't even find the words to write I'm sorry to him without coming off as insincere.
Muse-Musume: I admit it: I messed up. I messed up really badly. I lashed out at a guy that I really like, a sweet guy who didn't deserve it at all. He came to support me and I basically spat in his face for it, all because I was embarrassed and stressed out and angry at him for things that weren't his fault.
Muse-Musume: What's worse is now that I've found out a ton of stuff about him, like celebrity level stuff like he's an inheritor of a small fortune and basically really well known as a pro hero. What if I go back asking for forgiveness and he thinks I'm just in it for the money or fame?
Muse-Musume: What do I do? I was so mean to him. I basically made him cry! He probably wants nothing to do with me anymore. How do I fix this?

I could feel tears already slipping down the edge of my runny nose as I typed, blurring my vision before wiping them away with the palm of my hand to see the screen more clearly.

Muse-Musume: Even if he did forgive me and all of that stuff about him didn't matter, it won't be the last time something like that happens to me.
Muse-Musume: You know how anxious I am. I've had breakdowns bad enough to cause me to leave work early and skip class!
Muse-Musume: Who would want to subject themselves to that kind of emotional abuse? My anxiety isn't going to go away and the misunderstandings are still a common occurrence with me. I still don't even understand what he found attractive about me in the first place. What if I say something stupid and accidentally hurt his feelings again? Who would want someone so broken and selfish?

I sucked in another breath, feeling my chest beginning to tighten before grabbing a water-bottle from my gym bag and draining the contents. Water really did help with crying...

Muse-Musume: Sorry for all the message spam and monster paragraphs. I just needed somebody to talk to...
Muse-Musume: It would probably be better to spare him the trouble and heartache of dealing with me now than in the long run...

Setting down my phone, I walked to the bathroom and filled up my thermos I had by the sink with more water. I about dropped it when I heard the ping from my phone in the other room, eagerly rushing back at the Final Fantasy victory theme notification.

SmallMight39: ...I feel like this should be one of those conversations where we talk in-person.

My heart flipped at those last three words. 'Talk in person.' He wanted to meet up? Now?

SmallMight39: I know you have rules for not meeting people IRL, but I feel like this should be one of those conversations that you should have face-to-face.

A cold feeling of dread settled inside my chest before I sniffed back my runny nose and took another sip from my water. The logical part of me noticed that he hadn't responded to any of the emotional info dump I had given him, dodging that completely. There was always Skype conversations, but my bandwidth didn't support the platform well and the service was already garbage to begin with.

Muse-Musume: Okay...
Muse-Musume: We're probably long overdue anyways.
Muse-Musume: You said you're near Musutafu, right?
Muse-Musume: Do you know the Radio Building in Akihabara, the one from Steins;Gate? Can we meet there? I know that place really well.

SmallMight39: Sure, I know that place. When do you want to meet?

Muse-Musume: Is tomorrow good? I should be off-work by seven.

SmallMight39: OK see you tomorrow at seven.

Muse-Musume: See you then!

I locked my phone and felt myself sink back into the mountain of pillows and plushies behind me, mind racing at the millions of ways this encounter could go wrong for me and ways to get out of it. The other part of me, the moral one that overruled all of my crazy and bad decisions, knew that I needed to talk about this with someone and that I was long overdue in meeting SmallMight. I had nothing left to lose. "Jo-Elle..?" I called out, trying to not let my voice crack too much. Nothing. I called a little louder and my sister walked towards my door with an exasperated look on her face.

"Not so loud! Mom's still resting with a huge headache in the other room," she scowled before it abated somewhat at my downcast expression.

"I'm... I'm sorry... for b-being mean to y-you and n-not under-s-s-standing things and only m-making th-things difficult for everyone," I mumbled brokenly, fighting for breath and trying not to let her see me cry. Rather than admonish me like I expected her to, Jo-Elle sat at the edge of my bed and laid on top of me, putting that much more pressure and weight on my body. It felt nice. "...Can you still hook me up with those online therapists you told me about before? I can't remember what apps you recommended to me."

I couldn't see her expression, my face turned towards the wall so she couldn't see me cry, though she probably felt it through the silent quakes on my back, but her voice sounded kind and hopeful when she answered that she would. I didn't want to feel this way anymore. I wanted to be better. I needed to be better for him, and more importantly, for myself.


Author's Note: References are the James Jonah Jameson and Mary Jane Watson from Spiderman and the Death Star (Shi no Hoshi, or 'the star of death') from Star Wars (because Obi-Wan Kenobi died on the Death Star, so why not All Might?).