warning: content in here will vary drastically. storylines can range from mild to triggering. viewer discretion is advised
｡ : ° ஐ | | ｡ : ° ஐ
this is a one-shot after all.
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recommend music above viewer discretion is advised ﾟ˚✧₊⁎( 𝒅i𝒔t𝒓a𝒄t 𝒎y𝒔e𝒍f )˚✧₊⁎ ｡
𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰
Bring
Bring
Brin—
I'm sorry. The number you have dialed is not available. At the tone, please record your message.
...
Beep.
"...Hey. I know you don't want anything to do with me, and you don't want me in your life. Just—can you please help me? I'm in a sticky situation, and just—please, call me back."
A modest note fiddled lowly from the device; an indication that the phone call was completed. Katsuki eyed at the imprints of his mother's cellphone number glaring back at him.
The phone tumbled around the wooden table, before falling off on the other side. Though the sluggish footsteps droning away from the abandoned device exhibited how much its owner appeared to care for it.
Katsuki paraded into his kitchen, glancing up at his calendar. A jumble of push pins he had purchased a couple of years back when he moved into his apartment sat untouched and dusty.
Katsuki had dreamed to pin-up images and invites of friend's events and parties. Yet, he never got an invite to one of those festivities. He had never received an opportunity to take a photo and place it up for his prosperity.
His calendar laid hollow, like always. Katsuki couldn't comprehend why he had constantly examined it. As if for a moment, a phenomenon will transpire. And he will finally add some invite to his calendar in glee.
However, that never seemed to come.
Katsuki shuffled out of the kitchen without an ounce of remorse. A glimpse around his dwelling, and his face contorted into a sickly glare. With how chaotic everything had become, he couldn't help but gag at the indication of how disorganized and messy he had become.
Fingertips skimmed subtly onto the scarring that wavered on his face. Subconsciously trembling at the delicate touch, Katsuki drew his fingers back from the defects.
He was sure he had utilized latex to enclose them this morning.
|~~~|
The vacant household stood in its usually quiet and shy state. But, from across the house, the ringing of another phone call begging to be picked up could be listened to closely.
An aggravated groan came from the other line once the phone had indeed picked up. "I told you to stop calling me."
"I just want to speak to her, that's it. Please? It'll only be for a couple of minutes, that's all!"
Kirishima pinched harshly on the bridge of his nose. Eyes fastened tightly closed to the degree of a sting. "She's not speaking to you. She is happier and better without you in her line. We're, happier and better."
That clog that blocked out any understanding of a proper swallow nudged deep in the ash blonde's throat. "Please...she's not even looking at me. Just hearing my voice. That's all I'm asking for, Eijiro, please."
"Stop calling me that. We're not together anymore. And I told you the first time. No. I'm not letting her be reminded of you. When you came home with those scars, she couldn't even bear to look at you."
"...You bring them up every time. You know how I feel about them—"
"And rightfully so. Maybe if you handled that quirk accident better, you wouldn't end up with those nasty scars all over your face and body-! Maybe this relationship would have actually worked, you wouldn't have lost your job, and you wouldn't be begging like a lost puppy to talk to my daughter!"
"We raised her together! She's our adopted daughter!—"
"No! You lost her the day you got those scars! If you call me one more time, I'm going to file a restraining order and take your ass to court!" Kirishima's screeching echoed throughout his living room. Clean and orchestrated to an extent.
The irony that fueled the twisted fantasy was as pure as daylight.
Choked sobs and broken breathing infiltrated the phone. The pro hurling his hands in the air in a fit of irritation. "You do this every fucking time, Bakugou. Quit it. We're no longer in your life, accept it."
Tears trickled down familiar scarring bumps present on the palm of his hand. The body part covering his mouth to prevent any more of his saddened crying. Heavy sniffles rang from his lungs, Katsuki's skimming the phone back towards him.
"P-P-Please. I'm sorry to be be-begging like this. I just—I really want to talk to her-her. Because I feel like I'm going to kill myself soon-! I constantly feel-feel like I have less-less value than a t-shirt!" And I just want to talk to her once, ple-please!"
"...I'm sorry. You just can't...I have to go."
"Wait! Don't leave again, just let me hear her voice! Once!—" abruptly the line had gone dead.
ﾟ˚✧₊⁎( 𝒘i𝒕h 𝒑o𝒓n𝒐g𝒓a𝒑𝒉y )˚✧₊⁎ ｡ i can't stand the dialogue, she would never be that satisfied, it's a male fantasy words: 840
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