Trigger Warning:

- talk about sexual assault

- PTSD

- depression

December arrives, and with it, the prospect of hero work-studies.

Tomorrow is the inter-class battle with Class 1-B.

A week later, I complete the Provisional License Exam training and get my license.

Two weeks after that, everyone heads to agencies all over the country to gain actual hero experience.

In my case, it is confirmed whose agency I will be attending, but I would rather not think about that now.

Because there is another important event happening during this hectic month, and it is the writing-drawing competition that I am participating in with Selene. We made it into the final rounds. Ten groups, including us, have to write and draw to one final prompt to be selected as the one of the top three finalists. The submission deadline is in six days. The pressure is strong. And Selene is really feeling it.

She sits on my bed, notebook in one hand, pen in the other, and my head in her lap. Our strategy for this prompt was different from before, where we would come up with ideas on our own and then collaborate on a unanimous one. Now we choose our idea together. The prompt was such: "Most people fear the dark - the shadows, the cracks, the spaces that lie between what can and can't be seen. These individuals walk about blind however, for the worst evil is that which walks among us in the light." The task is to write a story about this topic, but the problem is … it hits a little too close to home for both of us. At this point, I'm convinced the judges are sadomasochists. The superhero topic, the subjects after that, this theme … they're all about pain and suffering. It cannot be a coincidence that only the most agonizing of the stories and art qualified this far. Who knew that trauma was the key to excellence?

I snort at my own dark joke. But who am I trying to amuse? The girl I am trying to cheer up is spiralling into a rabbit hole of despair. Since morning, I have made her five mugs of hot chocolate. The fifth is on my nightstand. I suggested that I should create a drawing first and she should create a story from her interpretation of it. However, she refused. "This topic was too sensitive for us, so discussing together and avoiding hurting each other would be the better solution," was her reasoning. I acquiesced then, but now … we can't do this anymore.

Selene sets her pen aside and reaches for the hot chocolate. It's empty. She starts to rise from the bed with the support of her cane and says, "If it is all right with you, I'll make the next batch. You've already done so much."

But I have other plans. Strolling unwaveringly toward her, I take the cane from her and set it aside. Then I press her shoulders so she sits down, and I move her legs onto the bed. Understandably confused, she brings her knees close to her and opens her mouth to speak. A gasp replaces any words she was about to speak when I get on the bed too and hug her knees. I cannot resist the compulsion to tug a black tendril of hair when I gaze up at her like this.

"Let's take a break," I offer. "Something besides the competition for the moment. Lately, you've been giving your cane a lot of attention. I want my share of cuddles and kisses, too."

Her eyebrow raises, and a curious smirk pulls at her lips. "Oh? Feeling neglected, much?" She makes an elaborate show of polishing the silver surface with a handkerchief. Slowly. Reverently. Each stroke is calculated carefully.

A long sigh escapes my mouth. "Ah yes. Me, my best friend, and my best friend's meter-long support stick."

"Correction: it is a dragon cane," she amends immediately.

"Well, the dragon is snapping away my affection time with you."

Selene giggles, "Was that a pun? Where did you get it from?" When I frown at her, her amusement blooms. That impish grin never leaves as she deliberately puts more effort into polishing. At some point, I have had enough. Without a warning, I reach forward and scoop her into my arms. The cane clatters to the ground as I rise from the bed. Selene crosses her wrists behind my nape instinctively. The friendly banter atmosphere from before vanishes. Instead, a more intimate teasing makes its presence undeniably known. One of racing heartbeats, rapid breaths, and physical proximity.

The soft, low voice that only comes out during these moments appears. I susurrate, "Now that I have your undivided attention, I believe my daily dose of affections and adorations is pending."

Familiar shyness climbs up her cheeks. I expect her to stammer cutely. But to my surprise, she doesn't. Rather, she swallows audibly and stares at me directly in the eyes. "Todoroki Shouto is jealous of a cane. Who would even think that this side of you existed?" She lifts herself in my grasp to reach the same level as my face. Her fingers slide up my nape into my hair. Combing it, tangling it, rubbing it. I can't have enough. My hold on her back and the back of her knees tightens. I pull her closer to me. When she blows against the slope of my neck, a moan starts to climb up the back of my throat. Then, she whispers into my ear, "But I love it."

The moan finally leaves me in spite of all my attempts to restrain it. Surrendering to my desire, I tumble back toward the bed. I land on my back, and she lands on top of me. The cool press of the pendant I gave her rubs against my chest. Determined to not let that sensation fade even a little, I get up into a seating position and drop my grasp to her waist. After a few adjustments, she is on my lap, thighs straddling my hips, looking down at me a few centimeters above my head.

I am painfully aware of how intimate this posture is. Her cream breeches, cream dress shirt, and gold waistcoat hardly serve as barriers. The same goes for my yellow cardigan and black pants. However, I think I like it when she is the one gazing down on me. It is the perfect angle to get lost in her liquid silver eyes. Best friends don't behave like this, but I think we crossed that line since her birthday. Whatever grey zone this is, I do not know its name. But I will take whatever I can get and give all that I have.

"Is this okay?" I ask once we are settled.

Her hands slip to my shoulders, and she nods.

I lean forward and nudge her neck up with my forehead. I return the gesture: a blow of air. Her breath hitches. My teeth pull at the gold choker, loosening it, dropping it. "Is this fine?" A gulp follows. "Selene, you're going to have to speak up. I cannot tell if you're saying yes or no."

"Y-yes. Th-th-this is fine," she replies in a breathless whisper.

So I press a kiss to the center of her throat. Right where the choker was. She clenches the fabric of my shirt in her fists. "Was that good?"

Again, she stammers. "V-v-very m-much."

Should I go higher or lower? I choose higher. My next three kisses are placed a little above my last. "How about now?"

"Mmmhmm!"

A small chuckle passes my lips. Who's the teaser now? I lean back to look at Selene. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and the inner part of her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. Doubt fills me. Is she enjoying this or is she enduring this? The one thing I never want to do is hurt her. My hands leave her waist and cup her cheeks instead. "Moonflower, are you all right?" Her eyes open, and the relief that fills me at seeing that captivating color is unfathomable. She frees her lip and assures me that she is okay. But I am not convinced. Because within that silver ocean is the sheen of welling tears. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

Only when her flushed cheeks darken do I realize that I called her by the nicknames I murmur when she is asleep. Yet the sentiment remains. Selene doesn't call me out for the pet names, but she does adhere to my request.

"It's not you. Not your fault. The competition … the theme … it's just too much. I am proof of the evil that lurks in the light, and I live with that evil to this day. Perhaps a story guaranteed to win first place would be mine, but there is so much to lose. You call me mad, Shouto. And you're right. Only fragments of sanity tether me to reality." She starts pulling away. Her knees draw to her chest, and her face buries in her arms. Déjà vu hits me then. I saw this exact posture more than a year ago when I dreamt of her the night before the U.A. entrance exam. Much later, I had suspected that something traumatic had happened to her. Now I think I have a better idea of what transpired.

That dangerous question that appeared in my mind when I talked to Ahearn-san arises once more. I was too afraid to voice it then, and I still am now. Because the answer is becoming clearer by the second. Each tear that slips from her eyes carries a painful memory I know nothing of but speculate everything about. My thumbs rub across those tears, hoping to wipe away the misery with love. Her eyes close again, savoring the consolation.

All this time, I waited for her to feel comfortable enough with me that she would reveal her trauma herself. However, she's just as much of an enigma now as she was the day I first met her. The more answers I get, the more questions appear. Maybe she actually needs a little instigation. After all, secrets are her brand. But if I push her too much …

So I start by asking an easier question. "Selene, do you think I would reject you if I learned your truth?"

She opens her eyes once more but does not meet my gaze. A crestfallen nod is her response. I'd be lying if I said that didn't hurt. However, there are more important things.

"Why do you think that?"

Again her melancholy persists. "Very horrifying things were done to me, and I committed horrifying things in turn."

"And you think I would hate you for getting revenge? Hell, I did the same thing. The way you retaliated could not have been in comparison to the brutality you suffered."

Selene flinches visibly. "You are giving me too much of the benefit of the doubt. I'm not a good person like you, Shouto. You are a saint, and I am a sinner. The things I have done … there is no atonement for them."

Shock makes me scoff incredulously. "You know, this isn't the first time you've degraded yourself. There were many occasions where you said that I was a better human than you. That's not true at all, though. I am willing to hurt and harm villains, who biologically are humans but who I see as scum. I freaking lose it when I am angry, and I refuse to let go of the past until push comes to shove." A finger slips from her cheek to her chin, lifting it. I force Selene to look deep into my eyes. Whereas my tone just now was seething, it drops to a hushed baritone. As I drown into depths, I reveal, "And when it comes to you … I am possessive. Obsessive. Fixated. There is nothing I can do about it. There is nothing I will do about it. Because you are all that matters. You encouraged me to be more selfish about what I want. Well, believe it or not, I am the most selfish when the subject in question is you. I have refused to share you for any dance, pushed away guys who forced themselves on you, and prevented you from leaving my side when I needed you. The flowers you wear are the mementos I treasure; the perfume you leave on the sheets is my favorite fragrance; the unbridled laugh that only appears when you are jubilant is my favorite sound; the hue of your eyes is my favorite sight; the softness of your lips if my favorite touch; and the sweetness of your skin beneath my lips is my favorite taste. And the best part is … I am not ashamed of it. That makes me a sinner, just like you.

"So promise me that you'll never say that you are terrible. I'm proud of you. You're the strongest person I've ever met. Strong people are allowed to cry. But they are never allowed to doubt their own self-worth. Moonlight, I know just how much your self-esteem was destroyed. You chose the Avatar of Pride so that you could feel more confident, even if it was false confidence. However, I have true faith in you."

A weak smile pulls at her lips. She thanks me for my encouragement. They are just hollow words, though. I can see that this is going to be harder than I had hoped. That will not deter me, regardless.

I wish I could take Selene far away from the grasp of her father. Put an end to all her suffering. Give her permanent sanctuary with me. I still remember the void of unfeelingness that were his eyes. Primal instinct tells me that he would torture Selene if he knew what kind of relationship we had. That is why my hands are tied.

As long as she is still being abused … until I can find a solution … this is all I can do.

So I will do all that I can.

Summoning the guts to ask the one question that has been eating at me like a parasite is the scariest thing I have ever done. Our friendship could be damaged irrevocably if I am not careful. "Selene, there is something on my mind for the past few days. It's a personal question about you, actually. Can I ask you? It is perfectly okay if you don't want to answer."

"After my bout just now, I suppose it's only fair. You deserve a better explanation. Go ahead. What is it you want to ask me?"

With a cautious sigh, I brace myself for anything. "Are you a victim of sexual assault?"

All color drains from her face. Her eyes shut in fear. Short breaths follow in rapid succession. Hands rise to clutch at arms like a protective shield. If I weren't holding her, she would have toppled off the bed. Desperate, I call out her name. Tell her to take deep breaths. Remind her that she is safe with me. That she can trust me. My attempts are not working. Silent tears drip forth and so does the desire to withdraw into herself. All her signature signs of an oncoming panic attack. I cannot let that happen.

"Sweetheart, please listen to me," I plead with urgency. "May I hold your hands?" Hovering mine above hers, I repeat the question. When she doesn't respond, I take a chance and brush them against her gloves. I take her lack of flinching as a tentative yes. Very slowly, I pry her hands from her arms. "Look at me," I command gently. She obeys. Trepidation meets my gaze. Then I press a lingering kiss to each finger, one by one. "Listen to me very carefully. You embraced me with my trauma, Selene. There is absolutely no reason why I should not do the same for you. In fact, of all the people, it would be the most disgusting of me to reject you. No matter your past, you are still my best friend. You are still my moon. What you mean to me does not change. It never will." My love for you will not change. It is a promise I establish with a final kiss.

She weeps harder now. Drops of tears turn into rivers. But not a single sound escapes her mouth. They say silence speaks volumes more than words. Every moment is testament to an eon of suffering. I know that because that is how I cry, too. It is how victims of years of abuse cry. And I also know that if a ray of hope is not granted at such moments, then the darkness of despair devours us.

Darling, forgive me. It was never my intention to make you cry. I should have gone about this better. Chosen better timing and made the setting more comfortable for both of us. This was my mistake, and I have to fix it.

If my ray of hope is words of solace from her, then hers is touches of serenity from me. "Would you like a hug?"

She shakes her head and wipes her tears profusely. "I-i-it's all right. I'm f-f-fine. This was bound to happen. M-my cowardice was only delaying the inevitable."

"Maybe I want a hug? Can I get one?"

Selene sees me right through, but she accepts my offer without further protest. Her arms wrap around my back the way a drowning person holds onto a lifeline. Then again, I am just that for her as she is for me. I reciprocate the embrace with as much ferocity, if not more. Not even a millimeter of space separates us. Recalling that she is sitting atop my lap, an instance of unwanted shyness arrives. I forget about it quickly the moment I rock us back and forth. "You are survivor. Never forget that." I murmur that sentence like a mantra with every stroke against her hair.

A long time staying like this passes. I wish we could stay like this forever. As long as Selene was with me, I could protect her. Cherish her. Love her. I could help her heal. But reality has a way of trampling desires under its feet. Like every week, tonight she will go to the Hanada manor. A facade of tranquility which hides the prison inside. The spark of resentment I harbored for her father ignites into a wildfire. It seeks to engulf him, her brothers, and every bastard that so much as looked at her with filthy intents. Desperately, I try to think of an excuse to prevent her from going there.

Then, she mumbles, "Shouto, how did you know that I was … I mean those things … How did you know? You're not one to ask questions without already having inklings about the answer."

I am reluctant to dampen her mood further, but when she insists again, I acquiesce.

"I knew for a fact that you were abused and still being abused; I even told you as much. However, I started having doubts the day you introduced me to Ahearn-san. While you locked yourself inside the bathroom, I inquired about you. And she revealed that your brothers were in on the abuse. That was when all the puzzle pieces started to fit. Your agoraphobia led to your sensitivity to touch and physicality. Your wardrobe consisted of full-sleeved tops and full-length pants and dresses, which was your armor. The gloves and the bandages were not only to cover up the aftereffects of your quirk. In addition, you always called your father Hanada-sama instead of Father or Dad. Not once did you mention the names of the people who were supposed to be your brothers, either. These were all standard responses of an abuse victim trying to protect themselves from the cruelties inflicted on them.

"However, scars always leave their mark. There was also your susceptibility to panic attacks, recent nightmares, and proneness to apologize for every inconvenience. Families are one of the top reasons why children suffer from debilitating mental health issues. And for children who are adopted, the risk is even higher. Perhaps that excuse of a father was looking for the perfect victim when he adopted you all those years ago. More than your quirk, your disease interested him. Because you suffered from mobility issues, you would not be able to fight back from the abuse."

She asks another question. "But that analysis could also mean that I was physically abused. How did you reach the conclusion of sexual abuse?"

"That's where the details about your brothers come in. If the whole family was in on a crime, I figured it would be something brutal. Brutal like murder or sexual assault. Even statistics show that girls are more likely to be victims of sexual assault compared to other forms of abuse … and you're clearly alive. Although, that was only half of my reasoning. The rest was intuition."

Though her face is still buried in the crook of my neck, she manages to let out a small snort of approval. "That was a very accurate assessment. I'm sorry you had to learn the truth this way. It is my fault that-"

I interrupt her because we have gone through this countless times, and I will not go through it again. "Making promises is not your forte, but making deals are. So here is the deal between you and me: every time you apologize wrongly, you will eat chocolate with tree nuts."

When Selene pulls back, a scowl contorts her features. Annoyance overpowers despondence. "So you are shifting from the promise system to the reward-punishment system?"

"Yes."

After realizing that I'm not joking, she becomes agitated. "All right, I vow to not over-apologize from here on out. Happy?"

"No," I reply firmly. "You need an incentive to change your behavior. For that, a new strategy is necessary." She pouts, dreading the possibility of eating least favorite dessert. At that, I add, "The prize is that if you can go one week without over-apologizing, then I will buy you any dessert you want. Japanese or Western."

The temptation appeals to her. That is exactly what I want. Still, she complains that the deal is unfair because she has to reap both the rewards and punishment. What do I get out of it? Well, I get amusing reactions from her. Memories to tease her about later. Most importantly, the chance to heal her while healing myself. It is ironic that I am using a discipline mechanism to recover when the manipulation of discipline was what made us like this. But that is exactly why I am choosing such a minimal form of chastisement. I will not dare to do something extreme like our fathers did.

Selene asks, "When does this deal take effect?"

"Now."

And with one hand, I reach over my nightstand and fetch a Meiji Almond Chocolate pack.

Her disdainful gaze never leaves the box as I open it and pull out the first chocolate-coated almond. "I like almonds, but not in candies. Do I really have to do this? How about we compromise? I can eat chocolate and almonds separately?"

Her protests go unheard. "Open wide," I order. She keeps her mouth resolutely shut until I stroke her lips with my thumb. Left. Right. Up. Down. The way I usually get distracted by the shape of her mouth is the same way she gets deflected by the texture of my skin. But this time my attention is not diverted. I have a goal in mind, and this is how I am going to achieve it. Finally, when her mouth parts around my thumb, I plop the almond into her mouth.

A huff escapes her mouth, and her eyes widen incredulously. I continue undeterred. "Nice and slowly. "Take your time. Relish the flavor." Selene glares at my deception as I grin broadly. Quiet crunching and chewing noises echo, followed by a swallow. "Good. That was the first out of ten."

"Ten? But the deal only stated that I would have to eat one."

"Did I? I said that you would have to eat chocolate with nuts. Not once did I provide a specific number."

Selene's glare only grows colder, realizing that I have outwitted the Devil. She remains astutely silent as I finish giving her the remaining nine.

However, it is a mistake to think that a human can outsmart a demon.

She was only biding her time.

After the last of the chocolates goes down her throat, Selene throws the pack out of my hands and shoves me down.

I stare up at her as she bends on her hands and knees.

"It is only fair that you have a taste of my revenge," she declares.

Her revenge consists of luring me with the prospect of embraces and kisses, only to push me away and taunt me again.

I fall for it every time.

Only once she has quenched her vengeance does she give me the affections I craved for all day.

Note: The prompt mentioned in this chapter was something I found on Pinterest, thinking it would suit this chapter. Here is the link: .ca/pin/505388389413597863/?mt=login