Evil....Maybe Not

Hello Again

Deku's POV:

What a pitiful face I make. I washed my face in the bathroom of my best friend's house, trying to pull myself together. I'd been in and out of crying fits for hours, always coming back to the sink to splash cold water on my face. "Calm yourself, Izuku," I whispered, trying to steady my breath. After what felt like an eternity in the bathroom, I finally stepped out. Kaachan was waiting outside the door.

"Hey, nerd, let's go to the police station. They need you there."

I staggered a bit, then followed him out of the house. Auntie, her eyes misty with unshed tears, drove us to the police station.

It has been about a week since my mother was shot and killed in front of me. I know exactly who did it, but I can't say. If I do, I know what will happen, and I can't bear another loss. I don't even understand why my father killed her. I obeyed his every wish, yet here we are.

At the station, the police asked me the same questions over and over again, but all I could say was, "I don't know, sir." Agitation gnawed at me, and I began to pick and prod at my fingers. Kaachan noticed.

"I think that's all the questions he can handle today. Please let us leave," he said, his voice firm.

The officers nodded, allowing us to go. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as we stepped outside.

"I know your father did this," Kaachan said suddenly, making me tense up. "Why would he do that?"

"Stop lying to my face," he snapped. "I know you know it was him and you won't say. Why can't you just tell the cops and have his ass arrested?"

"You don't understand," I muttered, walking faster, my head down. "It was a misunderstanding."

"One that left someone dead!?" he shot back, frustration lacing his words.

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him, anger boiling over. "I'm not protecting him!" I shouted. The words echoed between us, my frustration, confusion, and sorrow all coming to a head. "Sorry, I didn't mean to yell," I added, feeling the weight of my outburst.

Kaachan surprised me by pulling me into a hug, a rare gesture from him. "Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong," he murmured. I quickly stepped back, breaking the embrace, and continued toward the car where Auntie was waiting. The ride back home was silent.

Bakugo's POV:

The nerd has always lied to me about himself, but I always thought he would open up eventually. I guess I had my hopes up too high. The car ride was silent, and the house felt the same—heavy with tension. My family, usually loud and rambunctious, was unusually quiet. Even my docile father was subdued. I wanted to help him, but I felt like I'd just end up saying all the wrong things, especially after making him yell at me.

Fuck, what a disaster.

***

It's been two months since then.The funeral was weeks ago, and it seems like everyone has moved on. Deku doesn't even talk about it. My mom has gone back to her regular routine, and the police stopped calling. I want justice—doesn't anyone else?

I went into my room and was immediately hit with an overwhelming scent of pheromones, though strangely, it didn't bother me much. Izuku was on my bed, sleeping soundly, wrapped up in my blankets, sheets, and even my clothes. He seemed distressed.

"What the hell?" I muttered, walking closer to him. His face was flushed, and his hair was a mess. I ruffled his hair to wake him up. His eyes fluttered open, and he immediately grabbed my hand, pulling me into the bed. He nuzzled into my chest, breathing deeply.