Trigger Warning:

- suicidal thoughts/urges

- strong self-hate

- agoraphobia

Like the changing colors of leaves, time morphed from September to October.

And with it, it brought festivity and creativity.

Specifically, the U.A. Culture Festival.

Every department from the school is preparing for the event. Even my class supported my suggestion of a 'live performance' after hours of futile discussion. I think that was what it was called. Everyone's spirits are high. Except for one person. I can't even say that I'm surprised. Because whenever the atmosphere becomes energetic and optimistic, this person's minimal energy and patience drain like a whirlpool. Despite this person's catty pessimism, I love her.

So while the class is working on the finishing touches of the stage, lights, dance and music routines an hour before the actual performance, Selene compromises her effort in exchange for her silence. For a good reason, too. I think all of us pushed her too much and too quickly. Problem is, I was part of it, too, and I'm only realizing it now.

When it was decided that Class 1-A would put on a concert for the other departments, the next step was to select who would part of which team: band, staging, or dance. Our classmates and I were gathered in the common room of the boarding house, discussing options. That was when Selene got up and headed toward the kitchen for some late night milk. And then when Kaminari exclaimed that Selene should do the piano because she plays it so often, she nearly dropped the carton.

"Wh-Wh-Why me?" she stammered. "Th-that means I will have to be on stage. In front of thousands of people. In a crammed, tight space. I'm sorry, but I refuse. Give me some other role." Kaminari persisted, but so did she. Selene was adamant that she would not partake in any role that involved her being on stage. Strange reaction, considering that she was the center of attention during the Sports Festival. But then she repeated something that I ignored the first time: "thousands of people in one space."

Of course. Her agoraphobia. How could I have forgotten? She had been doing better around people lately. Getting accustomed to their noises, lowering her defenses slightly, fearing human presence less. Even staying a little longer at school parties. But those were like footsteps. The live performance was like asking her to sprint ten kilometers. And I neglected that when I brought up the idea.

When the others started to inquire why she didn't want to in spite of being so good at the instrument, I spoke up. "You guys are invading her boundaries. She has already made her wishes clear, and it is basic courtesy to respect that. We can have her on the stage team, where she can assist with lighting and equipment. Hidden from the crowds' sight." I looked at her. "Is that okay?"

She nodded reluctantly.

And she's been doing the best she can this past month. After being selected as one of the hundred qualifiers in the first round of the writing-drawing competition, she has been working harder than ever to secure our spot in this month's round. What with that and now this, it's a miracle she hasn't had a mental breakdown. Though, I could say the same about myself.

I think I projected my desires to escape onto her. Because both the competition and concert have been doing excellent jobs at helping me escape my thoughts. It's rather hypocritical of me. After realizing that I had neglected my emotions for Endeavor, I should have learned that avoiding them is not the solution. And I did. But look at what I'm doing now. Repeating my mistakes because distance and confrontation are the only mechanisms I know of coping with a situation like mine. A constant bipolar shift.

Within the past few days, a third mechanism has arose: suicidal thoughts. The last time I had them was after my match at the Sports Festival. Almost a year ago. I forgot about those, too. Selene once said that the urge to die came back a little stronger each time. Sometimes it came suddenly, other times it built up slowly. Either way, it was that much harder to fight it. Those urges are what consumes my attention whenever I'm by myself. Whenever I am not occupying myself with something useful.

Heroes never run away from problems, but what do I do when the problem is myself? It's not so simple as incapacitating your enemy and calling it a victory.

Now Selene is also paying the price of my ignorance. I watch her count the number of supplies and make a list. She is helping with camera and light angles, costume organization, and emergency technology equipment. All the while without complaining as the shine from her eyes dim. Guilt racks me as I know that I am to blame for that.

So after the actual concert concludes, I seek her out. While the rest of the class heads toward the structures holding the other classes' activities, she goes in the opposite direction toward the forest. I stop her just before she crosses the threshold.

"Hey. Can we talk?" I say.

"Sure. Only if we can converse by the pond."

I have no problems with that. At this point, I've traversed this route so many times with her that I'm the one leading this time. She lags behind. When we approach the gazebo, she tosses her geriatric cane aside and lies down on the dock. "Ah. Finally, my body gets some much-needed rest. I could fall asleep here like this."

I sit down beside her. "Please don't. Mosquito season is not over yet."

She snorts and resumes gazing at the sunny sky. "All right. But the rest is undeniable. Standing and walking for so long is torture to the feet."

That's right. On most occasions, she leans against something, sits down, or lies down. The few times she has stood for prolonged amounts of time were because those were necessary. Even then, she tried to make time for breaks.

It's my turn to chuckle. "Well, I have something that might boost your energy just enough." And I pull a small container of ice cream and a spoon from my pocket. Her eyes glimmer at the sight.

"Cannot say about energy but my appetite has definitely been piqued."

I want your entire mood to be piqued. She reaches for the tub as I move it out of her grasp. Again, she tries. Again, I move away. A little game of catch-me-if-you-can ensues. Not a good idea to play that on such a narrow platform. But no accidents happens. Selene pushes me down and pries the tub from my loosened fingers.

Her expression is ravenous as she opens the lid. "Victory is mine! Oh! It's mint chocolate. Thank you."

I get up to pull out my own set from my other pocket. For a long time, we eat in mutual silence. Just soaking in the sunlight and the scent of autumn. The season for lotuses and water lilies has long since ended. Instead, leaves the burnished color of copper coat the surface of the pond water. Fire on water. More leaves drift down from the surrounding trees and are carried away by the breeze. The breeze brings with it hints of phlox, sage, and verbena. In the distance, I spot a few shrubs. However, what really captivates me are the azaleas interwoven in Selene's dark hair. Pink, purple, red, white, orange, yellow. A riot of colors shining like jewels on black. These flowers usually don't have a fragrance to them, but for some reason, I smell something from them.

My own shame, I realize.

The ice cream tastes bland to me.

"Mmm," Selene moans in delight. "This was delicious." She makes a cute, satiated smirk before changing her countenance. She looks at me directly. "It was a clever distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. Shouto-kun, I've been noticing for the past month, something has been eating at you. It was so subtle that even I doubted whether my observations were correct. I waited for you to bring the subject up, but I cannot stall much longer. If it is not too forward of me, may I know what it is?"

Astute as always. It's kind of scary how easily she can read me so well sometimes. My mouth opens to answer the question, but it shuts at the last moment. Words carry weight. If I say my darkest thoughts, will they become true? I remember that Selene said that she recognized the suicidal expression on my face, so now I try to conceal it. Like I'm trying to conceal everything else. Since when did I start to keep secrets from you, Selene? It hurts.

I cannot completely deny what she is saying, otherwise it will look I'm hiding something much greater. So I compromise. Half-truth, half-lie. "Just some family issues. With remedial lessons, the live performance, and the competition, I haven't gotten a chance to really talk heart-to-heart with my mom."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asks.

"Thanks but … I'll be fine." I hope.

Unfortunately for me, she doesn't buy that last part. She studies me. "Hardly noticeable dark circles under your eyes, recent sullen mood swings, the drawing of a grave you sent me, and your guarded responses. Are you sure you are all right, Shouto-kun?" I do not have anything to say because all those facts are true. She leans forward and touches my cheek. "Your voice used to be an open book for me." Her fingers trace invisible patterns on the skin. I find myself leaning into the sensation. "If your face was the cover - unassuming and masklike - then your voice was the story. Spun of emotions and thoughts, words and sentences. I called you a terrible liar because of it. But in all honesty, I loved that part of you. You were more truthful than I was. Than I am. Call it double standards or hypocrisy, but it hurts when you try to withhold your feelings. You are my example for being more forthcoming.

"So what do I do when you start to keep secrets, hmm? What do I do when you ignore taking care of yourself?" Her other hand rises to copy the actions of the first. When she withdraws them, the loss is palpable. Your touch is my salve. Give it back. I reach for her as she unbounds her hair. A waterfall of raven black tumbles down her back and shoulders. One by one, she removes each azalea and gives them to me. I stare at the bouquet, perplexed. "It is not my right to push you to tell me what is happening in your life. That is your decision, and yours only. All I ask is one simple request: please do not neglect yourself. I care for you very much. The time I spend with you is precious to my heart. You make me feel safe, as though I have a proper home." I'm caught up by that word. Home. Safe. Precious. She treasures the sweet moments we spend together as much as I do. And even when turbulence arises, she remains resilient. I almost miss what she says next. "And when home crumbles, the sense of despair is unfathomable. Take care of yourself, Shouto-kun. If not for your own sake, then for mine."

A need rises inside me. To be held in her arms and cry. Let every simmering pent-up thought inside me release. Selene wouldn't judge. She never has. As much as I wish to kill myself, I don't want to. As much as I want to hate Endeavor, I wish for a semblance of a normal father, too. This crisis inside me is festering like an infection. There is nothing more I would love than to get rid of it. But I'm afraid of the consequences.

She is already coping with so much, I cannot - will not - burden her with my issues.

So I change the subject and inquire altogether. "Thank you. I'll try my best. Say, how about a change of pace? Would you like to go to the festival stalls with me? Both of us could use a break. And we deserve one."

It's another distraction, I know. But I've made my choice: for our sakes, I will come to terms with my sentiments. By myself. She notices my feeble attempt, too, but accepts nonetheless. After disposing of our ice cream containers and spoons properly, we take a quick detour to the boarding house to change clothes - specifically, she changes while one by one I carefully store the azaleas in my collection. Then we tour the various shops. She stands out with her seafoam green dress shirt, cobalt pants, and flowerless, open hair. But she doesn't seem to care, and I don't either. I make it a point to avoid the beauty pageant or the theater play sections where a mass congregation of spectators are gathered. Selene spots a book store, and tells me that I am free to look around by myself while she purchases a book. Or ten. Knowing her, she'll probably buy ten. And it will take a while.

So I take her up on her suggestion: I scan the place. One stall nearby is selling pizza pretzels. Another is selling origami designs. Is there a counter for soba? Wandering around idly, I pay a minimal glance at the products. One handicraft store, though, captures my eye. A sign states that the owner is a Living National Treasure. Japan is the only country in the world where cultural crafters, artisans, artists, dancers, and musicians at renowned levels receive this honor. The government even pays a two million yen subsidy every year to those who hold Individual Certification for this title. Immediately, my hopes and expectations rise. I can expect some excellent products from the owner.

And I am not disappointed. Kokeshi dolls, Nambu ironware, Arityaki, Kumano Fude, Hasami ware, Edo Kiriko, and so many more. There are textile products, porcelain products, paper products, and fans with authentic Japanese flavor. As someone who lives in a mostly traditional-style home, I love this shop. The Temari balls and Hakone Yosegi instantly become two of my favorite goods here. Should I buy one of each or all of them? I do carry an add-on credit card …

And then my sight lands on the most interesting item of all: little lapis lazuli trinkets. I'm reminded of the fact that I never gave Selene that pendant, even though I forgave her a long time ago. Does she possibly think that I still haven't forgiven her? Now it's so late that simply handing it to her and telling her that all is well between us is insulting. To her and me. I won't disgrace our friendship like that. She deserves a proper explanation and more than just a single stone. The owner of the shop notices my lingering gaze on the pile of indigo stones and grins knowingly.

"Each piece costs 2,800 yen," he says.

The number makes me halter. I have an idea in mind, and it is going to require more than just one stone. Not to mention additional costs of the jeweler. No. Stop thinking so hard about it. Selene deserves nothing less than the absolute best.

That resolve fills my voice with determination. "I'll have six of them." And while I'm at it … "I'll also take one of each of your other goods. Just provide me with the bags to carry them all."

Confusion replaces his smugness. "Are you sure you can afford all that?"

"Do you accept credit card?"

"Yes."

It's my turn to be smug. "Then don't worry about me. Just think me of as that benevolent, charitable customer that appears once in a lifetime."

The card is under Dad's name.

Might as well get some petty revenge.