The lost continent

Chapter 19

Bakugou feels heavy. He’s tired. Exhausted. Kirishima stands in front of him. He looks confused? Why is he confused? He should be escaping.

Bakugou opens his mouth to tell him to run, but instead his arms lift, his gun steady between his palms, and with all his might he tries to force them down. He turns his head, he tries to wrench his arms away but it’s like an invisible force has them locked on his undeserving target.

He shoots.

He chokes. Kirishima’s anguished yell tears through Bakugou’s mind, undoing him, letting his arms fall. He rushes for him, shaking his head . He doesn’t understand what he’s done, what he’s seeing- his heart is breaking over and over and Kirishima looks up at him with such betrayal it makes him snap.

“No, no!” Bakugou yells. Get the bullet out. That’s what Kirishima did, he just had to-

Bakugou finds himself diggins his fingers into Kirishima’s chest, tearing away at the flesh, and it falls away beneath his hands as Kirishima blames him for his death, for Deku’s, for Might’s. He digs, his hands covered in blood, stained forever, but he can’t find the bullet. Instead, he’s torn a hole larger than the wound through Kirishima’s body, and he lays lifeless on the dirty cobbled ground, stained red. His hair sweeps out beneath him. When the shouting soldiers come, they’ll know who he was.

Guilt rushes in on Bakugou- he took him here, it’s his fault, he’s fucking insane and before he took the life of the one he loved, he had to ruin it, too. Bakugou stands up to run, but when he does-

He feels heavy. He’s tired. Exhausted, Kirishima stands in front of him. He looks confused? Why is he confused? He should be esc-

"NO!” Bakugou yells.

He knows, he knows, he knows he’s dreaming, now. He forces his eyes open, but the dream lingers, and his hands are still hot and red with blood. He shakes his head, and looks to Kirishima, somehow sound asleep, but Bakugou panics, and hauls the furs away from his body. He shoves away the thin sheet, in doing so accidentally knocking him in the face.

Kirishima groans and splutters, an hand quick to the eye that was bashed. “Captain?”

His voice sounds too close to the graons in his dreams, where it’s heavy with sleep, but his chest is bare and unmarked.

Bakugou shuffles away from him a bit, feeling as though the tendrils of his dreams are pulling at his eyelids, forcing them closed to return to the wicked hallucinations. He thinks about the gun in his bedside table. The knives just behind the headboard. He shakes his head. Kirishima is still calling him, but he tunes him out.

The nightmares were getting worse. More real. The next thing he knew, he wouldn’t be dreaming anymore when he lost Kirishima.

It was inevitable. It was braided through his past, and therefore must be part of his future.

To love, was to lose.