Bakukirikami Oneshots and Headcanons

Record Player

I look at the record player. It's the same color red as my hair, a shade darker than my eyes.

Denki's sister got it for him two years ago, her present was given last on his birthday, revealing it along with a stack of records, one from each of his siblings.

 We had all packed ourselves into that blue house with a yellow door because that's where Denki had wanted to spend his birthday. All of his friends had come and met his siblings.

He laughed when she gave him that record player, that crimson Victrola. Said that it was the perfect color. Said that she must have done it on purpose. The hinges and latch were light orange, Katsuki's color. He had loved it, used it every day. I want that laugh on a record, so we can keep using that thing he so loved. All of his other records are gone now, taken by someone or another.

Katsuki's crying in the corner, holding onto a Charazar plush toy that Denki got him on their first date. So many tears. I want him to stop. I with Denki was here. He always made stuff like this better. But he's dead now, and I can't stop staring at this stupid record player that he loved, wishing he was here to turn it on.