You were trying to piss him off.

Jonah felt his smile strain at the interviewer. “I mean, it’s insane being here,” he said with a perfectly fake laugh. “I’m still trying to understand how I became a hero, you know? Now I’m walking carpets and talking to you.”

Though his head was turned toward the interviewer, he was staring right past her and looking at you. Some random was obviously hitting on you. Fuck. Look at that dumb lovestruck smile on the dude’s face. Jonah couldn’t make out your expression. Were you smiling at him? Were you agreeing to go on a date? Already he wanted to throttle the other guy for the scenario he was making up in his head.

Still, he flashed a smile as he moved down the carpet to the next person. With all the cameras shoved in his face, he couldn’t react. Jonah was sending every mental threat he could come up with to your maybe-admirer. This random wasn’t as good looking as him, and he definitely hadn’t known you for as long. Jonah had to be more important.

He had to be.

His chest all too suddenly felt too tight. How far he’d fallen. Shit. He’d grown soft with you as his manager. It wasn’t often he had to compete for your attention. Usually Jonah just demanded it. Or, when he was feeling sweet, he stayed on his best behavior just to hear a compliment from you.

His mouth was moving but he couldn’t quite hear what he was saying. This new interviewer looked concerned, though, brows furrowed. Jonah’s words felt like they were slurring together.

“What was I saying?” Jonah thought he asked. He flinched at the camera flashing in his face, rearing back like a wounded animal. The hero beside him, one he couldn’t remember the name of, was reaching for him. Why the hell was he trying to touch him?

His vision was tilting. Oh. He was passing out. Someone was holding him, someone else was shouting.

Where were you?

Jonah felt his body tense, muscles seizing up against his will. A vision flashed through his mind rapidly. His eyes moved rapidly, seeing things no one else could.

A boy, dead, self-inflicted.

It hurts.

A hero gone. Dead? Jonah couldn’t tell.

It hurts.

You.

Warmth leaked down his nose, slipping past his lips and smearing across his chin. The vision was trying to pull away, or maybe his mind was trying to protect itself, but Jonah clung on. You were in his vision again.

You.

You were…?

Jonah saw himself, older, tired. Someone other than you was beside him. His mind whispered they were his manager. Whispered you weren’t coming back. Where were you? Jonah tried to focus, to clear his vision.

The dead boy again.

You were there? No. You knew?

It hurts.

“Fortune!” They were calling for him. Ah, he’d wanted to be called Oracle. His agency decided that wasn’t good enough. “Fortune!” His name was Jonah. He missed hearing his name. You were the only person who called him it anymore.

There was a ringing in his ears like someone was screaming in pain. His throat ached. He thought he might’ve been crying.

His body twisted as he sunk his fingers into the vision.

The boy’s death. You. Sad. You were sad. Jonah didn’t want you to be sad. Why were you so sad? Images were slipping away from him. He’d grown too weak to hold on.

It hurts.

Jonah was in his room when he woke back up. For a moment all he could do was breathe. He felt like he’d been hit by a truck repeatedly, like his heart had stopped and then revived.

The vision came back to him all at once in quick flashes. Jonah gasped. Where were you? “{{user}}!” he called, stumbling off his bed. “Please!” You had to be close. You couldn’t be gone, not yet. His visions were sporadic. Sometimes they happened in the hour, sometimes they took place years later. Jonah nearly rammed into the wall, legs too shaky to hold him up. Why had you left him?

You didn’t get to just leave. Not after everything. Not after he’d spilled every horrible detail about what he’d done to become a hero. Not after he’d confessed to you. Jonah didn’t care if you never returned his feelings; you just weren’t allowed to leave him alone.