"Love was so fucking cringey until I met you."
You and your delinquent brother had been "troubled" kids, since the very beginning of it all.
Before things got bad; and, before things got good.
Constantly wreaking havoc just for the fun of it, lea...
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TWO DAYS AGO
You were so fed up now.
Fed up with Dabi in your ear, telling you every other day that you have to kill him.
Telling you no connections.
To get the job done.
He probably didn't know how hard it was going to be for you, but it was better that way. They as a criminal institution can't know, or they'll make their plots against you in no time.
It was only two days before the date set on Bakugou's fatality, that Shigaraki actually told you how he wanted you to kill him.
That was torture.
That left you in agony for two whole months, overthinking and contemplating on how you were going to be forced to brutally murder one of the only people who proved that they were ever really on your side.
You only started realising it when it got so close to the end of it all—but he did mean something to you.
Which wasn't in your favour, because it was going to make your task so much harder.
Sometimes you thought that maybe you could hurt Shigaraki by killing yourself, and taking away one of the only things he truly desires. But at the end of the day, there was always some excuse to keep you on the safe side of the ledge.
Funnily enough, as you chugged down your third coffee for the day in the facility kitchen, Shigaraki had appeared in the room, which doesn't normally happen at that time in the day.
"My star student," he gurgles with a grin.
You just roll your eyes, and slide your mug into the sink for someone else to clean.
"I have your orders."
Your glasses flashed, "Humour me."
He wore a sadistic cat-like grin, and you vaguely sensed him plotting something taunting and fleeting. It wasn't a good feeling, that familiar sense of wrath.
"You're going to use a gun," he mumbled with obvious sneering mockery. "Deliver one fatal shot, to a vital organ or vessel. Or—if you'd like—you can act like a true villain, and fire off a few warning shots, to his legs, or arms, to make sure his death isn't all that peaceful and painless. Not so...instant."
He emphasised every word in a way that suggested that he was seemingly being generous in offering it.
"A gun?" you gulped, "I could do it with my quirk, its much more efficient. One bullet probably won't even kill him."
