Damn it. Shit. It hurts. Please, stop. Stop, STOP, I BEG YOU, STOP, IT HURTS, IT HURTS SO BAD, PLEASE, STOP NO, PLEASE, IM BEGGING YOU, PLEASE!
Bakugou awoke with a start, crying gently to himself. He had no idea what these dreams were coming from, only that he wanted Kirishima back. They had taken him. They had taken him, and Bakugou wasn't enough of a man to protect his own boyfriend.
He had that dream every night now. It haunted him. The images of Kirishima being stabbed, knives dragged through his skin, being beat to the ground. He had been having them for a five years now. He looked over at the clock.
6:42
He sighed and went to get dressed in his hero costume. He was the number two hero now, right behind Deku. If this were another reality, he would have devoted every moment to beating Deku. But this wasn't another version. This was a world where he had decided to give every waking moment into finding Kirishima. He was still alive, Bakugou knew it.
He grabbed his keys and walked out, getting onto his normal patrols. It was earlier than he had ever been up, and was wondering if he should have slept until his normal time. When he saw a flash of red hair, he stopped regretting.
Breaking into a sprint, Bakugou flew through the air after the red hair, which led him to a small doorway in an alley.
The door was metal,p and rusting, and ivy was growing over it. Bakugou slowly opened the door, to find a newer, thicker one. It was when he placed his door on the handle, that he realized it was soundproof. He shivered, and called backup. Not waiting for anyone, he burst in. And the screams poured out.
It was a white hallway, with a single flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. There was a white door at the end. Piercing cries of agony rang through Bakugou's ears, and he could feel his heart slowly self-destruct. He was in the room in an instant, and his eyes widened at the sight before him.
The stench hit him first. It was awful. It smelled of years of rot and decay. The tangy odor of blood flowed along with it. The first thing he saw was red. Red red red. Everything was covered in blood. Blood. The most horrifying sight was his love. The one who had been with him through everything. The one who had spent countless all-nighters making sure he didn't kill him self during his stage of depression. The one who had loved him, regardless of what he did or thought. Kirishima was chained to a metal chair, head hanging. His eyes were closed. Even if they were open, Bakugou wouldn't be able to tell, since his face was drenched in blood. The blood. The blood covered his entire body. His head, his face, his shoulders, his arms, his torso, his stomach, his thighs, his shins, his feet. His skin was scarred over and over, dark lines crossing over each other's especially on his back. He was immobile with pain, but his screams said he couldn't get out of the endless, mindless, numbing torture. And around them were buckets. Buckets of blood, each one filled to the brim. Bakugou unleashed his lover. From the scars under the chains, Kirishima had been there for five years. Chained to a chair, forced to experience hell over and over again.
Katsuki carried him to the medics, who had arrived by then. As he rode alongside his boyfriend, he wept. He wept with the sorrows of widows and kings, and street beggars and musicians, and mothers and fathers, and eunuchs and concubines. He wept with the power of the greatest general, the fairest ruler, the wisest scholar. He wept with the love of the untouched sky, of the clean waters, of the pure trees. He wept for the soul that had left, left him. Left him weeping in sorrow and power and love.
———
A day had passed. Bakugou had spent the night at the hospital, praying. When the doctor came out, he told him that Eijirou was in a stable condition, and that he was accepting visitors.
Katsuki slid open the door. Kirishima was sleeping peacefully, possibly for the first time in years. Bakugou wanted to let him rest. But as he sat down, the redhead stirred.
"Kirishima." Bakugou cried as he held his boyfriends hand. Eijirou turned to look at him.
"Who...are you?" He whispered. Those three simple words had crushed Katsukis world.
"You...don't remember me?"
——
Will be a part two!
BYEEEEE~
YOU ARE READING
Bnha Short Stories
FanficBasically a bunch of tiny snippets of ideas for stories and one shots that never quite made it. Check out my other works too! Thx for reading, and enjoy! Also, a few Haikyuu in there from when I wanted to make it a general anime one.
