happier than ever

THE SMOKE AND FIRE of a burning house, of a cracked foundation, slowly began to dwindle down to a shimmer of fading light.

Sitting beside her mother, side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other once in a while, Ivette felt the pressure weighing down on her growing. The hospital they were at wasn't as crowded as they expected; nurses bustled across the various hallways, answering patients' calls or checking the required papers. The smell of antiseptic, bitter in its undertone, and the fragrance of soaps and air fresheners was pungent to Ivette's nose, violating her senses in a way not many things could. Revolting. Fake.

Artificial— everything here was utterly artificial. From the smell of lavender detergent to the superficial looks on unfamiliar faces. Ivette recognised broken facades from miles away; she could hear the thoughts of hundreds in her head, crackling like lightning, like a witch's amused hubris.

Sharp talons racked her brain and claws dug into the multitude of muscular layers, tearing it apart inch by inch, shred by shred.

Inko sat beside her. She offered Ivette her maternal comfort through her presence alone, although the shakiness of her body, the twitch in her eye and the bouncing of her knees didn't help to calm Ivette's racing mind.

"Ivette Midoriya?"

The girl in question rose her head.

The nurse smiled upon catching her eye. It was soft, reassuring. Ivette knew better. 

She could hear how unbothered the lady was, her thoughts dragging through her mind painstakingly slow. "Doctor Yeager is ready for you. Follow me, please."

Ivette rose from her seat, her fingers shaking by her side. She hid them behind her back, walking to match her pace with that of the nurse's. Her mother trailed behind her. Unconsciously, whether it was an act to remember or flee, Ivette counted the route from the waiting room to the doctor's office: twenty three steps forward, one right turn, ten steps more, another right turn, one short corridor and the second door on the left.

The nurse gently knocked on the wooden surface. A voice called, "Come in."

Wow.

What. A. Man.

"Ivette Midoriya, right?" A blinding smile, one crinkled with age and experience. Ivette nodded. "How can I help you today?"

Ivette looked at her mother. They both took a seat in the room, her mother in the corner and she before the doctor's desk. The plush leather of the wheeled chair pressed against her lower back, offering a comfort otherwise unknown.

"Ah, we– uh, came here to discuss my daughter's quirk." Inko's grip on her bag was tight. She held it close to her body, using the strap as an object to ground her.

Dr Yeager hummed. He flicked through the file on his desk, the sound of whispering papers drowning the fog in Ivette's mind. "Neuroelectric interfacing, correct?"

"Among other things," Inko laughed nervously. She raised an ageing hand, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm sorry?"

"I can manipulate the energy around me," Ivette clarified. "Telekinesis." And to demonstrate, she activated her quirk, green wisps protruding from her fingers and gathering the tools on the doctor's desk. They floated in the air, moving like dancers in a ballroom, a waltz of the tangible.

Dr Yeager was surprised.

He blinked.

"That's a powerful quirk."

The girl shrugged. "Guess so."

"I'm assuming that you've come here because your quirk has grown too strong?"

"Yeah." Ivette placed the objects in their rightful position. She tucked her hands on her lap, her skin brushing against the beige sweatpants she wore. "The voices in my head— the thoughts of others," she explained, "get louder each day, and I can't control whose I can hear and whose I can't hear."

"Ah," he sounded. "Can you hear mine?"

Ivette nodded.

"And our nurses?"

"I can hear everything." Emerald eyes glinted with suffering, sharp and silver- like a dagger or perhaps something more. "The people walking down the corridors, this floor and the ones above, the ones below. I can hear it; it never stops. It's always plaguing my thoughts like some sick disease— if you thought the Black Plague was bad, this is much worse, trust me. It's like a broken tv, static. Or a record. I can't focus because of it."

Ivette didn't dare mention Bruno.

They would think she was crazy.

And she couldn't afford that.

"Do you mind if I take a closer look?" Dr Yeager questioned, shifting his weight onto his feet. Ivette gave him the go-ahead with a tilt of her head, and he stood up, walking over to her. He grabbed one of those light thingies, gently moving his hands to her face and peering into her eyes. Ivette remained calm.

She was not– I repeat, not about to blush with such a handsome dude close to her face.

Ivette wouldn't hear the end of it if Bakugo found out. It was bad enough he got jealous over girls. Add adults, and she'd be screwed.

Leaning back into her seat, Ivette allowed the doctor to do whatever doctor things he had to do. His attention was focused solely on her and the brush of his skin against her own seemed to propagate a comfort in her very soul. As she discerned him, Ivette recognised how Dr Yeager looked a lot like the main character of one of her favourite animes.

"Okay," he started, moving back to his seat and gently sitting back down, his fingers moving to the computer's keyboard and tapping against the plastic keys in rhythmic, precise patterns. "I can prescribe you with some quirk suppressants."

"What are those?" she asked.

"They're pills that'll reduce your quirk's effect," Dr Yeager elaborated.

Inko pursed her lips, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth and nibbling on the chapped skin. "Are there any side effects?"

"Drowsiness and fatigue are the most prominent ones," the handsome doctor outlined, pulling up Ivette's online file and typing in the new information and shit, "although they only last the first week."

"But she goes to UA," Inko tried, waving her hand. "She'll need to use her quirk."

"These pills should be used at night." Dr Yeager looked over at Ivette pointedly, cerulean irises shooting through her like searing laser beams. "From the dark bags under your eyes, I'm assuming that your quirk also gives you nightmares, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then these pills will help satiate your powers— enough for you to have a peaceful sleep."

Inko pursed her lips. "Do you know why that happens?" She needed to know desperately. She needed to know how to help her daughter, how to soothe her problems.

Lullabies would no longer help a grown-up, not when Ivette knew the truth of the words behind them. Not when she knew everything Inko thought, a feat that unnerved her.

Inko wondered if Ivette had always been able to hear what happened in her thoughts.

She hoped not.

There were things not even a child should know. Things that involved a certain American cripple whose arms were tied up on a bed and whose legs were spread eagle-wide.

Inko shivered at the memory.

Ivette pretended not to notice. She would never be able to look at All Might the same.

"Your quirk, neuroelectric interfacing, propagates your nightmares because of your inability to switch it on and off. It affects your own mind as a result. These pills–" he handed her a piece of paper with his signature and scrawled words that were hard to decipher because, let's be honest, the stereotype of doctors having shit handwriting wasn't wrong–"will limit your quirk for a period of time, roughly seven hours."

"Are there different types of dosages?"

"Yes," he answered. "What I've prescribed is a low dosage. We don't want to shock your body too much, so we'll start off with these."

"But that implies it'll shock my body."

"Of course. We're suppressing your quirk." The doctor pushed back from his desk, rolling his chair to the side to maintain stern eye contact with his patient. "Ivette, you need to understand that quirks are like another limb. Suppressing it is like putting your arm in a cast. It'll take time to adapt, but you'll learn, and you'll overcome the hold it has on you."

Tentatively, Ivette sighed, "Alright. Let's give it a shot, doc."

Dr Yeager smiled.

"That's what I like to hear."

༺═──────────────═༻

Ivette stood in their apartment. She was beside their wooden table; a glass of water sat next to a tissue with pills on it. Reaching forward, Ivette took one of the pills in her grasp. She brought it close to her face, eyeing the white and blue capsule with hesitance.

"̸̟͉̓Y̶̲͈͕͂̍̀̔̅͠o̸̡̫̲̣͔͖̒͊̉̚͝ű̴̗̞̦͇̲̠̭͝ ̸͕͇̩̱̮͆̈́̇d̶̡̖̮̦̳͙͐̾o̷̞̺̳͕̦̮̔͑͋͐͂̏͘n̵͎̞̩̺̫͉͚̊̃͒'̶̦͙͈̕ͅt̵̨̙̲͙̪̞͂͛͌̑̒͑̕ ̴̝̃̽̏h̸̛̙̱̜̜̿̋͐̕͜a̷͔͉͓̫̤͆͛̏͌͐͠͝v̴͚͓̘̳̹͓̀̈́ė̶̢̖͖̅̅̒̂̾ ̷̞͓͓͊̉̌̅̈͘t̸̢̢̘̣̀͗͗̐̌͘͝ͅó̸̜̫̾ ̶̣̂̓̑̋͘d̸̼̠͇̋̌͜͠ò̸̡̮͇͗ ̵̛̺̩̘̲̠̪͋̽̈́̾̏̕͜ţ̶̹̮͙͈͛̈́ͅh̸̡͓̦͈͎̿͆i̴̡̧̲̬̟͚̼̿̿͘ṡ̶͉͙̪̀͗ͅ.̶̡̖͍̤̔̎̄"̵̖͍̼̄͋̄́͠

Ivette ignored the voice in her head. She had to. Her heart was heavy with exhaustion. It remained in her chest, surrounded by a cage of bones drowsily attempting to protect it.

She had to do this.

To protect herself.

"I have to," Ivette repeated. Still, there was a terrible feeling that daunted over her. A terrible loneliness that came with the pills.

Bruno had been a friend since Junior High.

Even if he did not exist in the real world, he existed within Ivette. He was her friend.

Someone she could talk to. Someone she could share her inert feelings with. Someone who was there for her— not because they pitied her, not because they were joined by blood. But simply because he wanted to be there.

There's a horror that filled her soul.

A horror of being left alone.

Ivette swallowed her fears. She grabbed the glass of water and popped the pills into her mouth. Gulping down the cool liquid, her throat slick with hydration, Ivette sighed. The pills were in her system now. There was no going back. She can feel her power brimming under her skin, begging to be released.

They did not want to be forgotten. They did not want to be abandoned.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"̴̜̯̊̃Ǐ̵̭̜̹̰͙͓̱̇̓͋̃̿̑̾͜͝t̶̡͔͖̺͆͊́̾̈'̷̖̩͒͂s̵̢͓͎̻̙͓̮̅̉̅̈́̀̽̒͊͌̚ ̸̞̖̘̑o̷̲̙̳͖̻̝͐̈̎ķ̴̛͚͚̞̺̦͉̈́̽͊̐͆͑̊͐ą̶̛̲̟̦̊̎̐͌̀̓͊̎̚y̴̫͈͙̝̔͛̏̿̀̓́͋͘.̴̗̽͒͋̓͋̚͘̕"̵̡̦͎͓̈̂͗̑͋̾̈́͝

Bruno was ever so forgiving.

"̴̡̭̠̬̗̠̮̤͌́͌̑̋͌͝ͅḬ̸̢̨̮͚̪͎͓̮̋̓͐̄͆̿̂̅͒̋̈́̓͒̏̈̏͘͘͠ ̵̧̦͈̪̮̩̥͈̆̃̀͐̓͂̓͗̉̓̃̃͂̉̑̚͜͠s̷̡̧̗͎̲̠͎̖̗̭̯̥̲͚̫̬͈̼̍͌̑͂̒̋̀̆͑̈́͑̊̋̍͘h̶̫͔̥͈͈͕͍̰̜͖͔̋͜ą̵̛̥͇͍̹͋̔̌̚ļ̷̧̟̀͐͐̅̾̈́̍́̉̒͘̕̚͠͝͝͝ļ̸̡̡̼̫̭̻̺͉̖̮̗̱̣̞͎́̎̆̈́̈́̿̉͆̔̎̄͂̍͛̄̋̀̚͝ ̴̡͈͕̠͚͙̮͖̈́͂̒̂̒͊̔̇͗̓̃̆̓̓̅̎͑̎̕ş̸̞͇̭̰̳͎͕̲̦̙͖̹̊͗̍̃̌͗̿͗̑̀̔͋͝t̶̢̛̥̭̯͍̝̜͉̪̘̮͚̠̮̗͉̊̀̈́̀̃͂̃̆̚i̶̖̣͕͖͈̮̽l̶̢̛̛̹̟̼͍̹̄l̵̨̧̧̛̛̙̖̬̣̙͕͚̳͎͖͓̯̞̃͒̀̒̅͋̐͗́̅̏̓̋̂͑͘ͅ ̶̧̨̡̧͈̯͔̳̞̟̤̼̟̘̏͂̆͗͗͂̌͋̉̍͝͝͝b̴͍͛̈́̈͑͂̊̎͐̆̀͐̿͘̚͘̚ȩ̸̧̹̣̉́̀͆̓̌̌͗̔͘͘͝ ̸̟̹͍̬͕̫̎̉̅͐̄̈́̒̄́́͗̎̅͂h̶̛͕͉͉͚̝̤͕̦̜̍̍͐̀̃̅̀̍̓̋͂͛͘͘͝ȩ̶̱͚̞͔̟͍͙̪̲͇̪̪̩̹̤̔́͜ͅr̷̨̧̛̟̻̤̩͉͈͔̱̼͔̼͖͍͍͑̌̿̓̇͛̐̃́͐̽̋̇̑͘͜͠͠e̸̗͖̖̟̺̗̯͔͑̍̄́̌̈́̈́̋́̚̕ ̵̢̢̧̡͍̩͕̰͇͇͕̠͇̺̦̍ͅŵ̴̨̺̠̘̰̹͔̬̥̼͉̙̮̖̮̅͑̀͑̅́̈̉̊̈̎̃̏͗̄͝h̵̢̨̢͕͍͓̪͔̗͒̾̄̈́̂̇̋̿̎̂͝͝ẽ̸̢̢̪̰͓̜̻̟͙͊̊́̑̕͝n̶̫̺̤͍̺͈̯̆̈́́͋̽͗ ̶̛̛̯̣̤̘̗̩̳̀̀̇͆̾̓̈́̔͐̓̊̊͊̈́̅̚͠y̴̯̱̦̳͓̱͗̔͆͛͒̈͋̉̿̂͒̃̈́͘ͅô̵̧̟̱̇͂̽͆͆̅̑̀̊͂̏u̵͖͆̄̇̑̏͐̅̀̎͂̂̾͘͜ ̵̡̭͇̦̤̦̜͕͓͂̌̑̆̋͑͜n̵̡̡͓̦̬͍̣̯͙͚̦̤̝̼͉͆͑̃͋è̴̢̛̠̳͓̰͇͉͕͕̩͖͕̈́̋̌̐̆̊̈̆̍͆̈́̈́͗͝͠͝ͅe̸̳̥̠̕̚͝ḍ̸̡͍̥̥̻̻̪̭̟̞͙̦͎̈́̇̕ ̷̨̡̦͔̠̂̔̄̏̇̆̒̃̈̉̏̏̏ͅm̸͇̼̜̰̦͙̥̮̝̩̜̝̟̹̺͚̱̠̆̊͘ę̶̦̣̠͔̱̺̭̱͎̦̮͕̅̔̆̿́̉̒̈̐̏̃̑͋̎͝.̸̘̦̙̭̈́͊͗̈̑͑̒͝"̷̞̼͉̬̖̗̯̼̱̫̖̱̱̘̞̣̽͆͌̃̀̍͜͝

The world around Ivette slowed down. A faint muffle reached her ears as if someone had finally placed a blanket of comfort over her shoulders. A quietness beckoned her.

The pressure thundering through her head steadied from a mighty roar to something more gentler. And just like that, after a few minutes, Ivette's powers were locked up.

Suppressed.

What a tragedy.

Bruno hated it. His voice was silenced at the time when Ivette was most vulnerable.

He could only hope that someone else would take care of her. Although, he knew no one could best him. Bruno knew his master. He knew his friend better than anyone.

"Okay?" Inko asked. She lingered in the doorway, watching nervously. Her fingers were at to her lips, teeth nibbling on her nails. It was a habit she gained when she was a mere child and one that hadn't left after all these years. It remained with her. Like a reminder of the heartaches of the past.

Ivette turned to her mother.

A tired smile stretched across her face.

"Yeah."