Driven by the thoughts he had forced himself to believe, Katsuki Bakugo finds himself oddly attracted to someone in a way that would demolish his appreciated image. Taunted by his own emotions and questioning the best of his decisions, after encount...
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The Fight, the Pain, the Lies
This drained brain of mine, it never stopped pulsing. The pain stricking at the back taunted me with repetitive bone crunching and ghostly screams in agony highering in volume. A girl's pleads and the deformation of her face, it never left the outline of my consciousness.
After thrasing her body into the lake, my exhaustion conquered the muscles of my body. Logic was no longer my companion, and only my lasting senses of regularity urged me to wipe off the blood from my shoes and cleanse the injuries in my skin. Feeling like a total wreck, my feet dragged me away from the scene, towards now the elevator, and sighed at the late hour. I have not seen Deku for so long, I worry and am downright gloomy at the missing lineaments of his beauty.
Feet dragging to the corridor of Deku's room, I wanted to see him, I wanted to greet him. For all these times I felt at my lowest point, I should have not blamed nor pushed the responsibility over the consideration of his problems. So many pests surround you, and it is awful for me to eliminate each one by one. I want you to accept me as your sole aspiring figure. After committing such unforgivable act of murdering someone in vulgarity, these efforts must pay off with your astonishing charisma.
My steps were just so heavy as I reached the door, appearing as a soldier deserting a battlefield, completely wretched mentally, and dazing off the meaning of tranquility. Deku welcomed me as he had already unlocked the knob, presenting me a serious frown on his face.
Before I had a moment to appreciate such irresistable fascination of his sculpture, he pulled me in despite my shrinking energy and shut us inside. I questioned that impulsive activity and the staid expression he wore on. Why... why are you looking at me like that? After all I have done, after all my sanity scratched off to evolve this filthy maneuver of mine, you dare to glance at me eagered with doubt and stern distrust.
Demolished by fatigue, I laid my back against the wall of his entrance, bestowned in pain and worry. There was a silence expanding between us; none wished to speak as we held many comments to prevail. His eyes were lively yet they troubled to look at me, as if my presence summoned minions intended out of pure wrath and disobedience. Regaining my rare breath, my eyelids managed to arrange the discomfort, and shortly exiled this session before the storm.
"You were waiting for me," my voice tuned roughly, never obstructed by these hauntings of rapture and chaotic upbringings of screams. Even as I spoke and attempted to avert my sight elsewhere, the pain struck immensely. Deku gulped, hesitant to spit the disappointment in me.
"Kacchan, we need to stop pretending."
Immediately my eyes widened at such commentary, unidentifiable in ways to digest its true coordinates. My mouth was no difference, and I removed my back on the wall, facing him straightfully. He knew I was confused and inspected a thorough answer out of him, so he sighed deeply.
