I didn't realize Shira had been calling my name until the fourth time. Her voice—stern, sharp, but laced with something softer—finally broke through the static in my head.
"Anos."
I blinked. Slowly. My eyes lifted from the space between her desk and the floor to meet hers. Dull. Haunted. That's probably how I looked. Because that's how I felt. Like something had clawed out the parts of me that used to be alive and left only the shape of me behind.
Shira's shoulders dropped in a sigh, and she leaned back in her chair with a somber expression that didn't belong on someone so battle-hardened. "You're off duty," she said. "Until further notice."
The words didn't make sense at first.
"What?" My voice cracked like old glass.
"You heard me," she said gently. "You're not fit for the field. Not like this."
"No," I said, standing too fast. "No, I—I can't. Please, Shira. Don't do this."
She shook her head, and her gaze was steady but heavy, like she knew this would break me. "You're not healing, Anos. You're just running. And now you've run out of places to hide."
My breath quickened. My chest caved in on itself. "I need to be out there. I need—" I swallowed. "I need the noise. I need something."
But she was already done. Her silence said more than any words could.
I left before I could shatter in her office.
The VA dorm halls were quiet, but the common room wasn't. Laughter, casual chatter, music on low volume—just enough life to feel foreign. The second I walked in, it all stopped. Heads turned. Conversations halted mid-sentence.
Eyes found me. Some pitying. Some guarded. Some—like Simon's—aching.
"Hey…" he approached me slowly, cautious, like I was made of glass.
Others followed—Lexi, Avis, Kyu. A soft hello. A pat on the arm. A silent offer to sit. I couldn't breathe in the room, not with all those eyes, not with their concern clinging to me like ash.
"Don't," I said, barely above a whisper.
Simon hesitated. "Anos—"
"I said don't!" I snapped, pushing past them. The weight of their presence made my skin feel too tight.
I stumbled into the elevator, hit the button with a trembling hand, and pressed myself into the corner. I didn't breathe until the doors shut.
My room was dark when I stepped inside.
I didn't bother with the lights. The moment the door clicked shut, the pressure in my chest exploded. The walls blurred. My knees buckled.
And then I broke.
I collapsed onto the floor and let the sobs tear through me, ragged and violent. The pain had been waiting—crouched in my throat, hidden beneath my ribs—and it poured out now like it had been building for weeks.
I screamed into the darkness.
I couldn't remember how long I cried. Or how long I was on the floor, gasping, clawing at the carpet like I could anchor myself to something—anything. But it didn't work.
My lungs burned. My chest tightened. I couldn't get air.
I was suffocating on nothing.
My phone rang. The name on the screen pulled me out of the spiral: Peter.
We hadn't spoken since the day he pulled me out of Diamond's hospital room. The day everything in me broke.
[Flashback – The Day Everything Crumbled]
"Anos—let go!" Peter's voice was urgent, but my grip on her bedframe was ironclad.
"No!" I shouted. "She needs me! She needs—she's not waking up—!"
The machines behind her beeped steadily. Mocking me. Diamond lay still. Pale. Her body too quiet.
"She can't hear you," Peter said, eyes wide, trying not to cry himself. "You're making it worse—"
"I won't leave her!" I thrashed as he pulled me back, my nails scraping against the metal, drawing blood. "She's going to wake up!"
The hospital staff rushed in. Peter finally pried me off her bed. I hit the floor and crumbled into screams, not caring who heard. My mind cracked wide open.
The door swung open again—and Inko ran in, tears already spilling. Hizashi followed, one arm cradling a bruised and unconscious Izuku. His eyes landed on me—on the mess of me—and his breath caught.
"Anos," Inko whispered. She reached for me, but I flinched.
I couldn't be touched. Not then.
Hizashi crouched beside me. "Kid… come on. Breathe. Just breathe, alright?"
I was too far gone. My thoughts were screaming, looping Diamond's name over and over again like a curse. I shoved him back and ran.
I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to be away.
I ended up on a rooftop three blocks from the hospital, dangling my legs over the edge.
Maybe… maybe if I jumped, I'd stop feeling this.
"Don't."
I didn't turn, but I knew the voice. Zayn.
He stepped beside me. Quiet. Careful. "Jumping won't bring her back," he said.
I didn't answer.
"I know," he said, softer now. "I know it hurts. But this isn't the answer, Anos."
I broke again. And this time, I let him pull me back.
[Back to Present]
"Anos?" Peter's voice brought me back to now.
I swallowed, trying to make my voice sound normal. "Hey."
There was silence on the line. Then: "You sound like shit."
I huffed a humorless laugh. "Feel worse."
"Look," Peter said, "I heard about the off-duty call. Shira's not wrong."
"Don't—" I started, but stopped.
He didn't press.
After a moment, he said, "I've got space here. You don't have to talk, you don't have to fight. Just… come clear your head. You need air, Anos. Real air. Not just smoke and grief."
I hesitated. "I don't know if that'll help."
"It won't hurt either," Peter said. "Come home."
The word home caught in my throat.
After another beat, I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Alright. I'll come."
"Good." I could hear his relief. "We'll be waiting."
I hung up, numb again. But maybe a different kind of numb. One that came with motion.
I grabbed a duffel bag and packed light. No suit. No comm. Just clothes and the broken pieces of myself.
I didn't tell anyone.
At 3 a.m., I stepped out onto the balcony, and launched myself into the sky.
Hours later, the train across the ocean hummed beneath me as I watched cities blur past. When I arrived, Peter and his wife were waiting at the terminal. She hugged me first—gently, like I'd break. He clapped me on the back and gave me a quiet, knowing look.
No words.
They didn't need to say it.
They knew I was still bleeding on the inside.
They gave me the guest room.
That night, I laid on the bed staring at the ceiling, trying to remember what it felt like to be whole.