Regress || bnha x op!reader

34: A Simple Life, A Simple Lie

I can only feature a few fanart in this site (if you guys want to see all the fanarts, you can read this in Quotev or AO3) but for you Wattpad readers, here's a PROSCIUTTO art that made me cry so hard. Look at it. Just... look.
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warnings: arguments. Might be triggering to some.

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❝ To the you who kept it hidden for eternity. ❞

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When you opened your eyes and saw pure white, the only thing you thought of was:

Ah. Defeated, and tired, you stared at the pristine ceiling. It's done.

You fell unconscious, and there was no telling how long you had been asleep. Which meant that there was no going back to change things, no turning back time except for the sacrifice that you should be willing to take.

It's such a simple solution. Just one movement from you at your weakest moment, repeat it twice or thrice, and then you're back at the dome, back at thinking of strategies to protect, back to disregarding yourself once again.

But as the minutes churned on, as the beeping sound of the heart monitor ticked around you, you found that you couldn't even move your hand. It was not because of your drawback, not because of any physical fatigue that you had gained from that attack.

Instead, it was hesitation. A doubt, a guilt that felt too heavy for you to fight against with.

Can you handle it again?

Can you handle seeing everyone be themselves while you are the only one who is stuck in this endless loop?

Every reset you had watched them smile for the same reasons as your last reset. Then the time would move and they would be hurt when you looked away, and the fracture in your heart would only grow, until you can't ignore it anymore.

And when time would reset once again, their laughter would haunt you. Their repeated smiles taunted you that life is over there, death is here, and you are here, not over there. Because you were never supposed to be there to begin with.

That should have been enough of a reason to turn back time. Should have been enough to try once again, because aside from your goal, you didn't have a place there. You knew what you needed to do. You knew that you were destined to be the only lost soul while the whole world moved forward, and you promised yourself that you can handle it.

But can you, really? There were no voices in your mind, but the hesitation is there. The doubt. The lack of trust, not in anyone else, but to yourself. It came from the fracture in your heart, the one that had been growing the more miseries you had seen. And you almost thought, as you listened to the rhythm of the heart monitor, you almost thought you would stay in that moment of grief once again.

You sat up slowly, and as you did, there was a gentle pressure on your hand. Eyes darting downward, there you saw, clasped firmly in your hand, is another hand. It's rough and weathered, it's a hand that has held you up, wiped away tears, and comforted you in times of need.

And it's a hand that came from your mother.

A lump formed in your throat as you stared at her sleeping face. Her usual taut and frowning features were softened by the hospital room's muted light. She looked peaceful, holding onto your hand as if you were her lifeline, that if she let go even in her sleep, you would disappear. And that only made the guilt weigh heavily on you.