I love your eyes, but I love mine more because, without mine, I couldn't see yours.

POWDER LAY on her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room, illuminated by the flickering glow of the neon lights Silco had bought her. The music playing in the background filled the silence, but it wasn't enough to drown out the storm of thoughts crowding her mind. She turned onto her side, clutching a pillow to her chest as if it were an anchor.

She couldn't stop thinking about Stella. Every detail of the day seemed tied to her—the way she smiled, the soft tone of her voice, the way she cared for Powder as if she were the most important thing in the world. And then there was that hug from the days before, the memory of Stella's body pressed against hers. Powder brought a hand to her face, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

What was happening to her?

She was never good at naming emotions, especially when they were this strong and overwhelming. There was a mix of excitement, confusion, and fear swirling inside her, and she couldn't make sense of it. A part of her wanted to give in to the feeling, whatever it was, but another part was scared. Scared of what it might mean, scared of how easily Stella had broken through her defenses without even realizing it.

Powder sat up, burying her face in her hands. She needed to do something—anything—to get rid of this confusion. Staying there, trapped in her own thoughts, wasn't helping.

She got up suddenly, grabbed a jacket, and left her room. Vander's words echoed in her mind: When you're confused, talk to someone who really knows you. Someone who will never judge you. But Powder didn't need a person. She had already decided where she was going.

The night air was cool, and the sky was clear, dotted with stars. Powder walked with her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, her steps light on the pavement, barely making a sound in the quiet. Before leaving the neighborhood, she had bought a small bouquet of flowers, choosing the simplest and most delicate ones—daisies and small tulips.

The cemetery was silent, disturbed only by the rustling of leaves in the wind. Powder walked between the gravestones, her heart beating steadily but softly. She stopped in front of a tombstone she knew too well, one she had visited more times than she could count.

Felicia and Connol

Her parents' names were engraved on the stone, accompanied by a short phrase: Always with us. Powder stared at it for a long moment, feeling a wave of sadness wash over her. Slowly, she knelt down and placed the flowers at the base of the headstone.

«Hey.» she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. «It's me.»

Powder sat in front of her parents' grave, hugging her knees to her chest. The cool night air seemed to ease the weight on her chest, but it wasn't enough. She stared at the engraved names, as if waiting for them to answer her, but she knew that would never happen.

Resting carefully in front of the tombstone was a bouquet of colorful flowers, probably left by Vi.

«You know, there's this girl,» she began, trying to sound lighthearted, but her voice carried a quiet melancholy. «Stella. Have I ever told you about her? No, I don't think so. We haven't talked in a while, huh?» She gave a small, bitter smile, running a hand through her blue hair.

«She's... different. I mean, not different in that weird or eccentric way I usually like, but different from anyone I've ever met.» Powder lowered her gaze, playing with a blade of grass near the tombstone. "She's sweet. Maybe too sweet to be around someone like me. Ugh—this sounds so cheesy...»

She paused, biting her lip. She wasn't good at talking about feelings, not even to a gravestone. She wasn't good talking to anyone.
But she needed to let it out, to untangle the mess in her head.

«I don't know what happened, but ever since I met her, I can't get her out of my head. It's like a little thought that won't go away. Even when I try to focus on something else, she's there. When I'm in class, when I go home, when I listen to music. Even now, while I'm here talking to you, I'm thinking about her.»

Powder smiled faintly, looking up at the sky. «Do you know how annoying that is? I've never been like this. No one's ever made me feel so much like myself before. And the worst part is, it's not even her fault. Stella doesn't do anything to get attention. She's just... her. And I can't ignore it. And I... I'm scared to death because I don't want to ruin everything like I always do.»

She ran a hand over her face, as if trying to hide the blush she knew was pointless to hide from a tombstone. «I don't want to risk losing her.»

Her voice grew softer, more melancholy, as she lowered her gaze to the grass again. «And yet, I can't help it. I like the way she smiles when she's with me, like nothing else matters. I like how she worries about me, even though I don't give her a reason to. I like how she accepts all of me, even the parts others would turn away from. She never looks at me like I'm weird or wrong. She's always... kind. Even when she should probably tell me I'm being an idiot.»

Powder fell silent for a moment, her lips trembling slightly. The wind ruffled her hair in a soft caress, a silent comfort. «It's hard to find someone who looks at you like you're normal, even when you know you're not. It scares me. Because if she realizes I'm not enough, if she decides I'm not worth it...»

The lump in her throat tightened, but she forced a smile. «I feel good with her.»

She sat there for a while, staring at the bouquet she had placed on the grave. The daisies and tulips were still fresh, but they already seemed out of place in such a quiet, still place. Powder leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin on them.

«You know, sometimes I wonder if you'd like Stella.» she murmured. «I'm sure Mom would. She's the kind of person everyone likes, you know? Dad would probably make some dumb joke, but in the end, he'd take her side on everything. You guys were always like that.»

The silence of the cemetery was almost deafening, and Powder closed her eyes, letting herself be enveloped by that heavy stillness. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, almost a whisper. «I miss you. There are days when I think I'm fine, that I can handle life without you, but then something happens, and all I want is to come home and curl up in your arms. I want you to tell me I'm doing the right thing. I want you to tell me I'm not a complete disaster.»

Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them away, clenching her teeth. She didn't want to cry. Not now, not here. Slowly, she stood up, brushing some dirt off her jeans.

«Alright, enough begin sappy.» she said, more to herself than to the gravestone. «I'll leave you alone now, okay? I don't want you thinking your daughter has turned into a crybaby.»

She took a step back, looking at the gravestone one last time with an expression that was both sad and affectionate. Then she turned around, shoving her hands into her pockets, and started walking toward the cemetery exit.

But as she walked away, a part of her felt lighter. Maybe she didn't have answers, but at least she had spoken.

And sometimes, she thought, that was enough.

This chapter kinda sucks but it's ok. I feel like it's important for the story.

The next chapters are my favorites so far, so get ready.

Anyway, I plan to write another story (this time straight😔😭🤣😩☹️😟) and I actually don't know about who.

Hawks or Gojo? Idk choose one.

Also, I'm planning to translate my Bakugou's story, idk if anyone would read that.

Yes, I have nothing to do in my life.