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kae-karo · 4 years

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6&8 with bakushima maybe...?

i see how it is. y’all want me to suffer huh. if that’s how it is then i guess i gotta drag y’all with me good fuckin luck lmao (no but seriously thank u for this lmao i wanted to expand on this (x) prompt i did before and this is a great opportunity for it although i am so so sorry with how intense this got that was not my intent but here we are)

6. “You broke me and now you expect me to follow you out onto the battlefield? No. The answer is no.”

8. “You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead.”

[read on ao3]

–

Katsuki can’t sleep, no matter how hard he tries. He should be resting, he needs to be ready for tomorrow, he needs to be alert when they arrive. He can’t be exhausted, but he’s too damn wired right now to even close his eyes.

Kirishima had actually answered, had asked if Katsuki was okay. His hand shakes as it brushes against the dried blood on his arm - is he okay? He hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. He didn’t think it’d take this long - this much - to earn their trust. He didn’t think he’d be dragged this deep. Can he even really call himself a hero? Heroes don’t kill people, they save them.

But that’s what this whole mission was for, to save people. To prevent something horrible and devastating from taking innocent lives. To put the League out of commission for good.

So why does he feel like a villain?

---------

Dawn paints the sky all shades of red, and Katsuki drops his gaze from the horizon to his shoes. He can’t let himself get distracted now, can’t spend time thinking about anything other than the plan. He refuses to think about Kirishima now.

Could he ever forgive what Katsuki’s done?

The thought creeps in anyway, demanding his attention, and he stands so fast his head spins. He needs to be somewhere else, somewhere dark and colorless and meaningless, somewhere he can pretend to be the hero playing villain. Where he can pretend he doesn’t feel corruption twisting around his heart and lungs, suffocating him from the inside.

Somewhere he can’t see anything, least of all the red of the sunrise promising a new day.

They should be here soon, he hopes. He can’t do anything else aside from hope at this point. Hope that they haven’t given up on him.

They wouldn’t, would they?

No, he can’t doubt them now. He’s done his job, he’s done what he had to do, and now he needs to trust that they’ll do their part. That they’ll come for him.

His hands find their way into his pockets as he walks back inside.

---------

“Hey, kid.” Katsuki startles at the voice, too on edge with nerves. They can’t have caught him, he’s sure - he’s been so careful. Done everything they asked, no matter the cost. No matter the blackness it tainted him with. They can’t suspect anything, not now, not when he’s so close.

“The hell do you want?” He can play the part for a little longer, just long enough. Just until they come for him. He fixes his expression into something he hopes is just as cold and aloof as Dabi’s.

“You got a little…” Dabi trails off, his thumb brushing his cheekbone just above the scars. Katsuki rubs at the same spot on his own face, doing his best not to let his stomach turn as dried blood scrapes against the back of his hand. Before Dabi can say anything more, he turns and heads toward the bathroom to wipe it away properly.

If this is the first time Kirishima sees him in so many months, Katsuki doesn’t want him to see the villain he’s become.

-----------

Nobody comes for him - neither the League nor his friends, if they still consider themselves his friends. He’s left alone in his room, and the phone he isn’t supposed to have draws his attention like a black hole, sucking him in. He refuses to touch it, though.

His friends, they will come for him, he has to believe that. And he won’t risk messing up the mission now.

But the hours tick by, marked by the shadows that creep steadily across the concrete floor, and there’s hardly a sound beyond his door. Nothing to indicate a sudden attack, nobody bursting into the room and demanding he come and fight.

Nobody bursting through the door to tell him that he’s safe now, that he can come home. That he did his job, took out the League. That he’s a hero.

“I miss you.”

Sometimes Katsuki misses himself, too - the person he was before all this, before he became something he doesn’t recognize. He wonders if Kirishima would recognize him like this.

But he doesn’t get the luxury of losing himself in those thoughts, because the door finally - finally, finally - bursts open, Twice sticking his head in.

“Kid, get your ass out here, we need some backup.” He doesn’t sound nearly as worried as Katsuki would’ve hoped, but he’ll take what he can get right now. His heart thumps wildly in his chest as he sits up, but he only allows himself a single moment of relief before standing.

He hopes there are enough of them to take down the League. He hopes this was all worth it, that this will be a success. That everything he’s done has had a purpose.

Then he shoves all those thoughts down deep in his chest, so deep that he can’t feel them as he stalks toward the half-open door. Twice has long since left, but Katsuki forces a wicked grin to his lips anyway.

Only a few more moments of playing the part, then he can turn against the League. Turn against the assholes that have plagued his existence since he started on his journey to become a hero. Turn against the group that forced his hand, that made him act like a villain.

He wants it to be their fault, but it was still Katsuki’s hand, it was still his decision.

He hopes this will be the end, one way or another.

----------

It’s quiet at first, more like a low rumbling than anything loud and sudden and terrifying, but he follows it through the twisting halls until it grows to discernible sounds - voices shouting, heavy blows landing, things breaking and crumbling and crashing. Around this corner, or maybe the next, he thinks.

And then he’s pulled in another direction, away from the noise through an open door and into an unlit room. A hand clamps over his mouth before he can say anything, not that he’d even know who to call for. If it’s his friends, he shouldn’t draw attention. If it’s the League, would his friends even come for him?

He’s not entirely sure he’s worth saving.

“Todoroki, let him go, it’s Kacchan!” Deku’s voice sends a wave of relief though Katsuki’s veins, not that he’d ever admit it aloud. They did come for him. The hand falls from his mouth, though Katsuki still can’t see in the darkness - he’s not even sure where he’s standing, perhaps in some disused room he’d never bothered to do more than glance into.

“I’m aware, that’s why I grabbed him.” Icyhot’s voice this time, somewhere behind him, and Katsuki turns. He thinks he’s facing them, but it’s not easy to tell. He has half a mind to say something, but his brain refuses to come up with some witty remark and he’ll be damned before he actually thanks them.

“Kacchan, are you okay? We were so-”

“Midoriya, Todoroki, Aizawa needs your help.” Katsuki sucks in a breath - Kirishima’s here too? All three of these idiots?

He shuts down the tiny voice in his head that says Kirishima came for him. Now isn’t the time.

“Right!” Deku whisper-shouts, and the door creaks open behind Katsuki. He turns just in time to catch the slightest glimpse of wild dark green and tufts of red and white before the door drifts shut again. By the time he turns back to where he thinks Kirishima’s standing, it’s too dark to see.

Silence stretches out for what feels like ages, though it’s probably only a few seconds.

“Shitty hair?” He hadn’t just imagined Kirishima was here, had he? Surely not, not if Deku and Icyhot had left at his suggestion? There’s a deep breath, a slow exhale.

“Bakugou.” Kirishima sounds sad, so fucking sad, like he’s...he sounds exactly how Katsuki imagined he’d sound if he knew what Katsuki had done. He wonders if he does know, somehow. Then he shakes his head hard, trying to clear it.

Now isn’t the time. They need to deal with the League first, Katsuki can worry about falling apart later.

“We need to get out there, we need to help them-” he starts, but he stops the moment Kirishima speaks.

“Bakugou…” His voice is too soft, and Katsuki can’t decide if he wishes he could see his face right now or not. “You went dark…” No, no, he wants to shout at Kirishima. Now is not the time, they have to- they have to do this, they have to succeed or this will have all been for nothing, they can’t- Katsuki can’t do this. He can’t hold himself together.

“We thought you were gone, I thought-” a sigh, “I thought you really joined them…”

Katsuki exhales a shaky breath. No, he’d never truly joined them, but he helped them. He killed for them. Does it really matter what side he claims to be on at this point? Actions speak far louder than words.

“We can’t do this now, we-” Katsuki tries, but his words fall flat and he presses his lips together to stop them.

“I thought that you...you played us, made us believe-” Kirishima’s voice pitches low, and his breaths come in a little too quickly in the sudden silence. “But then you called, and...and you...I thought you were gone. How am I supposed to trust you after that?” There’s a shuffling of footsteps, and Katsuki wishes desperately for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He wishes it weren’t so absolute.

Or maybe he’s just wishing that the darkness in his chest, the one that threatens to swallow up his heart, that it didn’t feel so absolute. So complete, so unavoidable. So all-consuming.

“I thought you betrayed us, betrayed me. I trusted you, but you...you broke me.” Katsuki rubs hard at his face, at the tears spilling over onto his cheeks. But it’s dark, Kirishima can’t see them. Katsuki almost wishes he could. “And now you expect me to just...follow you out onto the battlefield? No. The answer is no.”

Katsuki’s knees go weak under him, and it takes every ounce of effort to hold himself upright, to stop from literally crumbling.

Kirishima’s lost faith in him. Kirishima.

“I have done-” Katsuki clears his throat, angry at the way it breaks. “I have done terrible things, shit I wish I’d never…” he can’t bring himself to say it, but he can’t let this happen, not like this. “I did what I had to do for this mission, so we could bring the League down, and-”

And? And what? He’s still done those terrible things. His actions are that of a villain, and that’s how he deserves to be seen. He doesn’t deserve Kirishima’s forgiveness. He takes a step back, toward the door behind him. He’ll still fight for his friends, even if he can never redeem himself for what he’s done.

“I’m going out there, I’m fighting to put these fuckers behind bars because that’s all I can do right now.” He can feel the razor sharpness of his own words, the way they cut the air and slice up what’s left of his heart. He can’t see Kirishima, but he’s afraid if he could, he wouldn’t have the strength to turn on a heel and pull the door open.

Light blinds him, bright and cold and clinical, but it centers him as well. He needs to be just as emotionless and unfeeling, he can’t afford to let his friends risk their lives when he isn’t doing the same.

“Bakugou, I-” Kirishima starts, and Katsuki’s feet pause. The words stop there, though, and Kirishima makes a muffled sound that Katsuki can’t place. He should keep walking, keep going and find his other friends and fight for them the way a hero would, but the ache in his chest wins out.

He whirls around to catch the edge of the door before it closes, and the pale light from the hall reaches into the depths of the room to cast Kirishima’s face in sharp relief.

Along with the hand clasped tight over Kirishima’s mouth and the glint of a blade held against his throat.

“Oh, little Bakugou.” It’s Toga, her grin bordering on feral as she tilts her head at Katsuki. In spite of the fact that she’s barely tall enough to reach his mouth, Kirishima remains totally still. Katsuki does the same.

For once, for once in his damn life, Katsuki lets himself relax - there’s nothing she can do to Kirishima, not with his quirk. She’s basically harmless against-

Katsuki’s eyes widen as a trickle of blood drips down Kirishima’s neck. He’s never been more terrified to see someone bleed.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Katsuki asks, and Kirishima makes a mumbled sort of growling sound behind Toga’s hand, but she just laughs like she’s told a hilarious joke that nobody else is in on. There’s a tinny sort of sound, then, as something rolls toward Katsuki’s feet.

It’s only once it bumps into his shoe that he recognizes the tip of a needle and the tiny vial attached to it. Katsuki’s gaze flicks up to find Kirishima’s eyes wide, and his neck presses against the edge of the knife as he swallows.

“Shigaraki wouldn’t let us play with the good stuff, so his quirk loss is only temporary.” Toga sounds like a little kid who’s just been told they can’t have what they want, pouting and disappointed. “But!” She bounces a bit on her toes. “I can have a lot of fun in just a couple hours!” Katsuki sucks in a breath as a fresh wave of blood pools over the blade and trickles down Kirishima’s neck.

“You take me instead, do you hear me?” Katsuki steps forward, but Toga just tuts at him and presses the blade harder against Kirishima’s throat. His heart races in his chest, fear bubbling up and demanding he fight, that he win. He may not be worthy of being called a hero, not after everything he’s done, but he refuses to let Kirishima get hurt at his expense. “Give him back and take me instead.”

He can endure whatever torture they’ll inevitably put him through. Hell, he would welcome it if it meant keeping Kirishima safe. Kirishima, who fights hard to protect the people he cares about. Kirishima, who doesn’t deserve the ramifications of what Katsuki’s done, who doesn’t deserve to pay for Katsuki’s mistakes.

Kirishima, who came for him even though Katsuki doesn’t deserve to be saved.

“I don’t wanna keep you, you’re no fun!” Toga whines. “You just kill them, you don’t even cut them up all pretty first!” Katsuki’s ears start ringing, his blood pounding hard enough in his ears to block out whatever words roll off Toga’s tongue next. All he can hear is ‘you just kill them’ on repeat in time with his heart, all he can see are Kirishima’s wide eyes.

No, he doesn’t deserve to be saved.

“He’s useless to us,” Katsuki spits, sneering at Kirishima. “He’s an extra, didn’t you hear they left him behind? He’s not even worth sending in to fight.” Katsuki coughs out a bitter laugh.

“So I can kill him then?” Toga’s bouncing on her toes again, and the knife cuts shallow lines against Kirishima’s throat. Katsuki takes a casual step forward, hoping the wide innocence in Toga’s eyes means she’s no longer seeing him as a threat.

“What’s the point?” God, couldn’t it have been anyone other than Toga, the one with an obsessive bloodlust? Anyone else he might’ve been able to sway with some ease. “Besides, he’s quirkless for now.” Maybe he can shift her attention. “Completely harmless. We should go help the others, they’re still fighting.”

He hopes they’re still fighting, please let them still be fighting. Let his friends, the people he cares about, the heroes be winning. He can give everything over, every part of himself, if it means they’re taking the League down.

“Aww,” she pouts, “I guess you’re right.” Katsuki sighs - although he’s worried at how simple that was. It should’ve been harder, he thinks. His whole body aches with tension as Toga falls back from the balls of her feet.

“I should just kill him now, real quick.” Her grin widens to something manic, and Katsuki sucks in a breath. “Told ya you’re no fun, Bakugou!” She laughs through the words, and her knife twitches, drawing another line of blood. Katsuki’s hands fall to his sides, and he launches himself forward as fast as he can manage with his explosions, but before he can get to Kirishima, everything freezes.

Literally.

Katsuki’s stopped midair, held in place by a belt of ice around his waist as someone shouts something behind him. But all he can see is the knife, frozen where it presses against Kirishima’s neck.

Kirishima’s eyes are squeezed shut, but he opens them wide a moment later, and Katsuki finally exhales a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His heart hammers fast in his chest, louder than the sudden rush of noise around him, next to him.

There’s a crackling, though, that he feels in his chest, and it’s only once he’s halfway to the ground that he realizes the ice has started melting.

“Kirishima, oh my god!” Deku’s voice, but Katsuki can’t make out anything beyond that - damn Deku and his mumbling. He won’t say he missed it, but...he’d gotten used to it, and it’s been weird not to hear it these past few months.

“M’okay, don’t worry!” Kirishima says, though Katsuki can hear the fear under his bright tone. He can’t take his eyes off the streaks of blood running down his neck.

“We need to get you both out of here, the police have arrived and…” Katsuki can vaguely hear Todoroki speaking, unnervingly calm in spite of what they’ve all just been through. In spite of the fact that he’d only just managed to stop Toga from killing Kirishima right in front of Katsuki’s eyes, while he’d stood there and practically convinced her to do it.

He hadn’t meant to, he’d been trying to talk her out of it, but he can’t imagine how Kirishima must’ve seen it.

“Hey Shitty Hair, can I, uh…” He can’t, he can’t walk out of here and let Kirishima think- think what, though? That he’s a villain? But he is, isn’t he?

“I dunno, Kacchan, I think he needs to see Recovery Girl first, right?” Deku says, but Katsuki’s focused on Kirishima. Wide red eyes watch him, and Katsuki purses his lips and drops his head. He can’t cry, not in front of everyone. He told them all he could handle it, that he was perfect for this job. He can’t let them all see what it’s taken from him.

He can’t let them all know how undeserving he is to be rescued, but Kirishima...Kirishima should understand the truth.

“It’s okay guys, we’ll catch up,” he says, and Katsuki’s eyes flick up to meet Kirishima’s.

Deku and Icyhot must find their way out, a frozen Toga in tow, because silence engulfs him and Kirishima a few moments later. Katsuki’s suddenly at a loss for what to say.

“You killed someone?” Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut. Kirishima’s voice is low, like he’s just as terrified that someone will overhear as Katsuki is.

“I didn’t- I didn’t think I had a choice, okay? I thought...I thought I was doing what I had to do,” Katsuki says to the ground. “I thought I was doing the right thing.” The words barely come out above a whisper.

He waits in the empty silence, waits for Kirishima to rage at him, or to say he’s unforgivable, he’s not a hero, he could never be after that. He waits for the fear, the hatred, all the things Katsuki deserves.

“And what do you think now?” Katsuki lifts his head to find Kirishima watching, waiting. For what, Katsuki isn’t sure. The truth, maybe? He squeezes his eyes shut - Kirishima deserves the truth. Actually, he deserves a hell of a lot more, but the truth is all he can give.

“I can’t undo what I did. I would if I could, but I can’t.” He inhales a deep, shaky breath, and begs the blackness behind his eyes to give him enough strength to say all the things bubbling up in his chest, the things he’s tried to keep buried.

“And I hated it. I hate myself for doing it, I hate myself, it’s- it’s been fucking with my head, and I can’t get it out, I can’t fix it, I can’t- I can’t- I f-fucked it up, I was so wrong, I thought I could handle it but I couldn’t, I-” He startles when arms wrap around him, warm and solid and strong.

“K-Kirishima, stop, I- I killed someone, I’m-” Katsuki can barely get the words out now, lost in a wave of sobs that threaten to overcome him completely, but Kirishima doesn’t let go. Katsuki can feel the wet warmth of blood against his neck from Kirishima’s cuts, the ones he got because of Katsuki, because he-

“Get off!” He shoves at Kirishima’s shoulders, but he can’t put any force into it, and Kirishima’s grip only tightens further. Katsuki’s knees threaten to collapse beneath him, his whole body suddenly weak and exhausted, but Kirishima holds him in place.

“I’m so sorry,” Kirishima whispers in his ear, his head tucked in the crook of Katsuki’s neck. “I’m so sorry we didn’t come for you sooner, I’m so sorry you thought that was your only option.”

Katsuki can feel the fragile pieces of himself splinter apart, shatter and crumble as Kirishima holds him.

-------------

The rest of the day passes in a blur of faces and locations and white walls he’s fairly certain belong to a hospital. He doesn’t have the energy to tell anyone he’s not injured, he shouldn’t be here.

Maybe they can see inside him, the blackness that’s consumed him like a malicious virus, swallowing up every ounce of good he ever had in his body. He wonders if there’s a treatment, a fix.

He doubts it.

They keep him hooked to an IV, though, and doctors and nurses wander in and out. Aizawa comes in at one point, offering his thanks for everything he’s done, but Katsuki can’t look him in the eye. Aizawa doesn’t know what he’s done, and if he did, he’d never speak to Katsuki again.

Todoroki and Deku show up, too, bringing news of their success in taking down the League. Deku heaps on the praise, saying it wouldn’t have been possible without Katsuki, that he’s a hero.

The word makes him sick to his stomach.

It’s Icyhot that finally suggests they leave him alone, and he’s grateful for it. He doesn’t deserve their appreciation, doesn’t deserve their kindness. He deserves to be put behind bars with the rest of the villains, he deserves to be punished for what he’s done, but he can’t even begin to consider telling them. So he’ll punish himself instead.

He doesn’t eat, can barely sleep without waking an hour later in a cold sweat with the feeling of blood coating his body again. Every time he tries to rest, it’s a different person he’s killing as the League members stand around him, their unspoken threat enough to make him act. Sometimes Deku or Todoroki, sometimes one of his other classmates, sometimes All Might or another teacher, or some faceless civilian.

In the early hours of the morning, it’s Kirishima. He refuses to even attempt to sleep after that.

The next time someone dares to walk through the door to Katsuki’s self-made prison cell of a room, he demands to know where Kirishima is, if he’s okay.

“Kirishima Eijirou,” he adds as the nurse frowns at him. “Red Riot, is he okay?” He should’ve asked right away, the moment he’d been lucid enough to realize where he was.

“Oh! Yes, yes, he’s just fine. Sleeping off the effects of that drug a few rooms over.” The guy goes about his business, checking something on Katsuki’s chart before shuffling over to remove the IV needle from his arm. “And you’re clear to leave whenever you feel ready!”

They’ll let him leave, just like that? Don’t they know what he’s capable of, what he’s done?

He stares hard at the white wall across from him, waiting for the nurse to leave. It’s like nobody cares, just cause he’s a hero. How could they not have figured it out by now? The League must’ve told them, or Kirishima had, or they’d found out somehow, right?

He doesn’t deserve to walk out of here unpunished, to be celebrated by his friends and strangers.

If he stayed, would they let him waste away here? Would they let him make this his own prison, since they refuse to put him in a cell themselves?

“Bakugou?” Katsuki startles, then turns to find Kirishima standing at the door. He dips his head, a harsh ‘leave me alone’ on his tongue. “Can we talk?” Kirishima beats him to speaking, and Katsuki’s far too weak to say no to him. Maybe he’ll say all the things Katsuki’s been thinking, tell him how he deserves to rot in prison, how he’s irredeemable and villainous and-

“I don’t know what happened,” Kirishima says, and Katsuki peeks up from behind the strands of hair falling in his face to see Kirishima’s gotten closer. “But what you did…” Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable. He holds his breath in the silence.

“You did something terrible.” It’s not what he expects Kirishima to say, but it hurts him all the same. It hurts, and he deserves to be in pain. “Something you can’t fix.” Tears prick at the back of Katsuki’s eyes. “And I don’t understand, but I know you didn’t do it because you wanted to.”

Katsuki stares hard at the thin sheet covering his lap, the lines of it blurring behind the water welling up in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter what I wanted.” His voice cracks as he speaks, along with his resolve. How can Kirishima talk about this like it’s okay? “All that matters is what I did.”

“No.” Kirishima’s tone invites no argument, and Katsuki lifts his head to find Kirishima’s gaze hard as he stares at Katsuki. “I used to think- I mean, it wasn’t the same, but I used to think so too. That one thing, one mistake, it defined who I was forever.”

“This wasn’t a mistake, it was someone’s life,” Katsuki argues - how can Kirishima not see this?

“I’m not saying it was small, I’m just- I’m saying that if you let that be who you are, that’s all you’ll ever be.”

“I’m a murderer, that’s never going to change,” Katsuki growls. Nice words won’t cover up the blood on his hands. He shoves them under the sheets as if that could make what he’s done disappear.

“No, it won’t.” Katsuki blows out a harsh breath - at least he’s not trying to dispute that point. “But it’s not that simple, it’s not black and white-”

“It’s life or death, there’s no in between,” Katsuki interrupts. Why is Kirishima trying to justify this? Why is he trying to tell Katsuki that it’s okay?

“Not for them, but…” Kirishima sighs, and his weight settles on the edge of Katsuki’s bed. “I’m not trying to say it was good, I just meant that…you were in an impossible situation.” Katsuki lifts his gaze just enough to see Kirishima’s hand clenching the sheets.

“We left you in an impossible situation. I left you…” His voice breaks on the words, and Katsuki sucks in a breath.

“I chose my life over someone else’s, a hero doesn’t do that,” he says. He stares hard at the lines of Kirishima’s hand, willing his focus to stay on the present, willing his memories to stay locked in the back of his head. He can’t relive that, not right now.

Kirishima slams his fist into the edge of the mattress, startling Katsuki, and his eyes lift to see Kirishima staring hard at him. Light reflects from the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Well maybe it’s selfish of me, maybe it’s not very heroic, but I’m glad you chose your life.” His words invite no argument, not that Katsuki can even fathom speaking right now. Kirishima dips his head. “I don’t know what I would’ve done in your place.”

Katsuki doesn’t doubt Kirishima would risk his life to save someone else, but a sudden wave of righteous fear rushes through him at the thought - he wouldn’t let Kirishima sacrifice himself, if he had any way to stop him. He hates that he understands.

Kirishima blows out a breath, then he rubs at his face.

“For what it’s worth, I'm glad you're alive. I don't know what I'd do if-" He stops there and dips his head, and Katsuki clenches his jaw to stop the sob that fights its way up his throat. He might not be a hero, but he’d fight to his dying breath to keep Kirishima safe if the roles had been reversed. "Anyway, I should-"

Katsuki pulls his hand from under the sheet and reaches for Kirishima's, but he stops just short, and his fingers barely brush against Kirishima's wrist. Does he deserve to ask this of Kirishima? Maybe not. But maybe he's selfish too.

"Stay?" he asks anyway, and Kirishima pauses. When he turns back to Katsuki, the corner of his lip ticks up in a small smile. "Please?"

Kirishima blows out a breath, and his hand reaches out to take Katsuki's where it hovers in the air.

"I didn’t know you had manners,” he says, and Katsuki rolls his eyes. But Kirishima squeezes his hand tight. “I’m not going anywhere, Katsuki.”

#bnha #kiribaku angst #jackiewolf #ask #kt

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