And Dying Inside - Blog Posts

11:42 PM. KATSUKI BAKUGOU.

his first words after six months aren’t ‘can i come in?’ when he shows up to your doorstep unannounced. it thunders behind him, pouring rain with a vengeance only seen on movie screens. each strike of lightning lights flashes bright white against his features, illuminating already startling crimson eyes.

he looks like he hasn’t slept in months. ash blond hair matted to his forehead, dark circles hanging like stalactites—never have you seen him in a state like this, and it makes you want to shrink away, back into the comfort of your home.

you stay out anyway, and the cold nips at your socked feet almost playfully.

“why are you here?” your voice shakes him out of his stupor and he pauses, mouth open with a retort already dying on his tongue. what was he doing here? interrupting your peace away from his torment filled life with selfish wants?

how does he tell you that he hasn’t had a good night’s rest since that massive argument six months ago? that he shouldn’t have nitpicked and snapped at you because his mission failing wasn’t your fault—you were just there and suffered the brunt of his anger in your attempt to help.

how does he tell you his misses the way your hands would run through his hair, slow and practiced, as the dust and dirt from the day’s work washes down the drain? that he misses your silly songs made up from a tune he’d gotten stuck in his head, and that he can’t bear to clean up because the very thought of doing the most mundane things without you sends an unfathomable amount of ache to his chest?

that he misses having the weight of you, skin against skin, at night, where he could be just katsuki?

he can’t say any that. he can’t do that to you. you look well—better, even, after six months. your voice is soft when you ask, not even the slightest bit of hatred present at all, and he almost wants to disappear. regret courses through his veins, but he can’t find it within himself to move.

slowly, his gaze meets your once more, hands shoved into his pockets, and he lays out the barest contents of his heart then.

“i didn’t know where else to go.”

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