BakuDeku Oneshots

Guilt

AN: Based on an adorable comic I found the other day, skdjslaisj I almost cried :(

Warnings: 2650

Word Count: Kind of Angsty

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Katsuki woke violently, his body jerking upright, muscles taut and coiled, arms up and fingers curled, ready to attack. His mouth was open, gasping for breath he couldn't get, crimson eyes wide but unseeing, darting feverishly around the darkness as he threw himself to the side, his barely-conscious mind recognising what was happening and initiating his 'Wake Up' protocol.

When his back whacked against the wooden planks of his bedroom floor, it was like a switch was flicked. Katsuki's muscles relaxed, his arms lowered and his pupils dilated, adjusting to the dull lighting that shone through his curtains. A wet, disgusting sucking noise sounded as Katsuki devoured air, his foggy mind clearing as the oxygen entered his system.

Six years. Six fucking years and he still suffered from this PTSD bullshit. It would have been almost funny, if it wasn't so frustrating and downright disturbing. Every night he would lie down on his mattress, knowing exactly what awaited him, the nightmares his subconscious would conjure. Well, nightmare. It was always the same one.

It would start harmlessly enough. His old class, 1A, gathered in their classroom. Talking, laughing, catching up on missed experiences over the weekend. Then the building would shake, Jirou would fall off the desk she was perching on. They would get up, rush out of the classroom to look out of the window. See the mass gathering of villains, all of which Katsuki would recognise, top villains that had been captured over the years, all standing in the courtyard of UA.

A battle would ensue. That bit was always fuzzy, never quite clear. Katsuki was never sure who he was fighting, only that they were tall, broad and muscled beyond belief. Then the villain would topple, and behind him would be Izuku, arm cocked and energy fading around it as his Quirk deactivated. He would shoot Katsuki a smile that was meant to be reassuring, then it would disappear, and his gaze would flicker down, where he would see the fist of a villain protruding from his lower abdomen, but below his rib cage.

What followed next was as clear as day. In the dream, the rest of the world would disappear, and it would just be Katsuki and Izuku, the latter cradled in the blond's arms as his blood flowed freely, gushing over both of them as Izuku's life left him, slowly, little by little. The cruelest form of torture.

And then Katsuki would wake, usually in a deranged form of paralysis or under some sort of mirage that he was still there, in the battle. But he wasn't. He never was again, because maybe, if he had a chance to relive that day, then the green-haired angel that he had been in love with for years would still be alive.

But he wasn't.

Sighing, Katsuki rose to his feet, shaking the itching feeling away and brashly swiping the back of his hand across his eyes, barely noticing the salty liquid that had been swiped away. He padded out of his bedroom, down the hall and into his kitchen. Glancing around the room, he searched for his phone, knowing it was somewhere in this goddamned apartment. He growled, swiping his hand across the counter and sending a stack of old Pro Hero magazines flying to the ground. Katsuki paused, looking at the minor mess he had just caused, then stooped to pick them up.

Just as he straightened up, pile of magazines in his hands, and turned to place them back where they had previously been resting, he froze.

His phone lay on the counter where the stack had been before and, just as he picked it up, a series of dings sounded, alerting him to the fact that he had messages.

- Shitty Hair: bro, you free today?

- Me: yh, think so. why?

- Shitty Hair: maybe we could catch up?