Game of Traitors | A BNHA Fanfiction

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A/N: Hey guys! First of all, thank you all so much for over nine thousand views on this story! It feels like my hard work is paying off! At first, this story was a way to both stop myself from biting my fingernails–it proved to be successful–and to also have an excuse to not watch the news because it was just depressing. I never thought I'd get here. Thank you! As per usual, please enjoy this chapter and feel free to comment and leave constructive criticism! Also, I'm sorry for the really slow updates..I've been bombarded by schoolwork and after school lessons and things of that nature and I haven't been able to focus on this fic.

Songs for This Chapter:  Snákar – CYBER (feat. Emmsjé Gauti)
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46:57:53...46:57:52...

Looking at my glowing red wrist, my heart only sinks deeper into my stomach, my sobs held back only by the suffocating mass lodged in my throat.

Not only was Todoroki not the Traitor...I have less than two days to find the real one and at this point, I'm ninety nine percent sure I know who it is.

Then again, will it really matter? Me, Kacchan and Kirishima are going to face the same fate as the others and if my assumptions are correct...Ashido's going to continue living on... possibly in the Deviance Dimension.

I bury my head into my hand, the other reaching for a large roll of toilet paper, tugging it so I could have something to blow my nose with.

It can't possibly be this way. Why was Todoroki the one framed? He didn't deserve to die this way. He didn't deserve to die at all.

I tear yet another strand of paper, bringing it to my nose and blowing, maybe, just maybe I can get all the sorrow out of my body. But as much as I cry...none of it will change the fact that I just saw one of my best friends hanging from a ceiling.

Patches of ache still linger all over my body, yet thanks to another one of Hado's serums, it's all going down. I've at least been able to walk without my legs turning to jelly.

A light rapping at the door snaps me out of my thoughts, my head bolting upwards.

"Oi Deku?! You crying in there again?" Kacchan's familiar voice wafts through the small creak in the door, reaching my reddened ears.

I take a deep sniff. "N–no!" I let out. Yeah, of course he believed me.

The all too familiar clicking of the doorknob reaches my ears as a small breath leaves my lips.

Kacchan's usually white face is a pale shade of red, both his eyes and cheeks glossed with a thick layer of salty wetness, his pink lips pouted and his black T–shirt loose around his body.

"See?" I sniff. "I'm not crying." Yep, that's deterring him.

My body sinks lower into my bed, the mattress lowering as Kacchan takes a seat next to my feet. "Bullshit," he chuckles grimly, his small laugh leaving his throat gravelly.

I sigh. Hopeless. It's all hopeless at this point. "I just... He's dead, Kacchan. Dead. I knew it wasn't him."

"I don't know. I voted for the little bastard," Kacchan mumbles under his breath. "Clearly it was the wrong choice. I fucking... thought I had him. I somehow knew it was him. But I don't know."

We sit in silence for a few seconds. Even if he's my boyfriend now, these moments don't cease to exist. No words can leave my mouth, my body instead being filled with complete numbness, unable to even cry.