Bakugou Angst Stories

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚In the following time he took his life - 1.4

The boy he grew up with was gone. Forever. Dead. Inside an enclosed casket, body well preserved, about to be turned to ash. The unfeeling, solid woman beside him felt wrong in this area. The air she held felt terrible, gross, and disgusting. Her piercing red eyes and floaty blond hair reminds Midoriya of the way Kacchan posed as. Her sharp edges that cut into the ironically bright blue sky make him even more somber.

Especially since she was usually the way he thought Kacchan was like, impenetrable, strong, like a fortification. Instead, now everything's flipped.

Her eyes are flaming zircons, strong with presence, apathetic, and too overwhelming. While Kacchan's eyes seemed to be in an endless cycle of different reds, they were just like roses. Beautifully colored roses, with a shade so bright it felt artificial at times, as if taken from an artwork one would admire on the painted glass outside of a stunningly white church. Sometimes those roses would wilt on stormy days though, ones Midoriya would never be told about but would always see how it affected him.

And Midoriya was like water.

No, a river.

All he ever did was cry, drowning those roses in his salty tears.

And salt's not good for roses, draining them until there's not an ounce of water soaked in them. Dehydrating them until they're shriveled, rose turned to prunes. Because roses weren't built to be immune to salt, they don't have a natural combatant against it. All they can do is wilt.

Midoriya was never good (enough) for Kacchan, and Kacchan didn't think he was good enough for anyone. Or else he wouldn't be staring at the serene body in front of him, the only roses visible to the naked eye are the ones sprinkled around the casket.

The funeral people give them time to grieve, and the whole class is there along with some relatives of Kacchan that Midoriya's never spoken to or seen before, the weeping Kirishima clinging onto Ashido, the class presidents standing back with forlorn expressions and grievous voices.

This must be hell on earth. Nothing could be worse than this. Nothing. Not even death because how can death be worse than death? Midoriya's logic is unbeatable, but it doesn't stop his ears from ringing with static. Everything rises up and nothing comes down because the shit has finally hit the ceiling, and salt is so terribly bad for plants. But he can't help it.

His eyes are like leaky faucets slowly being turned on, and he feels like he's drowning in his sorrow. They drop on the suit clad body of Kacchan, soaking and rolling into the crevices of forever folded and making that dry, unfeeling face moist.

He feels a hand drop against his shoulders, his sniffling, green haired mother behind him. Her soft frame, holding him into a hug, pulling him away from the view that had sucked him into thought. Midoriya can't stand to see it, but the image has already been etched into his brain. And all he wants is for it to go. 

At least he convinced Kirishima that he wasn't the only worried one. Midoriya just hopes he manages to sort out those horrid feelings when he spends his time with Kacchan.

Words: 545