Counterfeit Love | BKDK

10

Izuku's eyes snapped open, his body drenched in cold sweat, as he jolted upright in bed. His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding against his chest. It had happened again—a nightmare, haunting and relentless. But this time, something felt different. The usual comforting presence of Katsuki was absent.

He scanned the room, searching for any sign of Katsuki's presence, but the space remained empty and silent. The realization hit him like a wave crashing upon the shore—he was alone. A surge of unease washed over him, intensifying the remnants of his nightmare.

Feeling a gnawing ache in his chest, both from the lingering fear of the dream and the absence of Katsuki, Izuku swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He had relied on Katsuki's unwavering support and comforting presence during these difficult nights, and now, he had to find a way to navigate the darkness alone.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Izuku rose from the bed and made his way to the living room. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting an ethereal glow upon the space. The emptiness seemed more profound in the darkness, amplifying the weight of his unease.

As he settled on the couch, Izuku couldn't help but long for Katsuki's reassuring touch, his calming words that had always chased away the lingering remnants of his nightmares. The absence felt like a void, a hollow space where their connection used to reside.

He reached for his phone, hesitating for a moment before scrolling through his contacts. The instinct to call Katsuki, to seek comfort and solace in his voice, was overwhelming. But he stopped himself, realizing that Katsuki had his own battles to face, his own demons to conquer.

Determined to find a sense of strength within himself, Izuku closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Slowly, he guided himself through grounding exercises, coaxing his racing thoughts into a calmer rhythm. The darkness around him seemed less daunting as he tapped into his inner resilience, reminding himself that he had faced nightmares before and emerged stronger.

The weight of it all became too much to bear, and Izuku felt a surge of raw emotions welling up within him. The tears, once held back, began to stream down his cheeks, their salty trails etching a path of vulnerability on his face. He clutched his chest, feeling the ache of sorrow and the heaviness of his fears.

Sobs wracked his body, shaking him to the core. It wasn't just the nightmares that haunted him—it was the fear of losing everything he had fought for, the uncertainty of the future, and the pain of being alone in his struggles. The floodgates of his emotions burst open, washing away the walls he had built to protect himself.

In that moment of vulnerability, Izuku let himself feel the weight of his fears and the depth of his longing. He mourned the loss of normalcy, the shattered illusions of safety and stability. The tears were an outlet for the overwhelming grief that had taken residence within him, a cathartic release of pent-up emotions.

He allowed himself to cry, to let the tears flow freely and without judgment. Each sob carried a piece of his pain, a fragment of his vulnerability. And with every tear shed, a small glimmer of healing emerged, a reminder that even in the midst of darkness, there was room for hope and resilience.

As the last tremors of his sobs subsided, Izuku took a deep breath, feeling a sense of clarity and lightness. The tears had cleansed his spirit, washing away the shadows that had threatened to consume him. Though his heart still ached, he found solace in knowing that he had allowed himself to feel, to confront the depths of his emotions.