꒰꒰ L e t m e l o v e y o u // ʜᴀɴᴀʜᴀᴋɪ ʙᴀᴋᴜᴋᴀᴍɪ ꒱꒱

⚡️2💛

L e t M e L o v e Y o u -- soft-kacchan

Chapter 2 -- A n s w e r s

⚡️--💛

Sleep did not come as easy to the blonde as he wished it would. The constant turning and small wake ups between each hour— it felt unbearable.

There was a time where he got two hours of sleep in his whole night but the dreams are what almost woke him up again. Just mental pictures of him and— Bakugo..? Layer after layer, dream after dream of pile on the words; ' It will never happen ' or— ' He doesn't love you '.

Why would he want Bakugo to love him? He didn't like his hotheaded friend like that— well, not as he knew. But now these dreams were the only spreading him from a heart attack in his sleep. It had so much detail of pretty little scenes being burned and ripped to shreds with echoing words and he wanted it to stop—

And it did. As he feels the cold sweat trickle down his the back of his neck and he feels the force of his throat come up to his mouth. Fuck— was he gonna vomit? Probably due to the sleepiness of all those confusing pictures. 

But the certain about this ' vomit ' was that it didn't feel like it, it felt rough against the inside of his throat and the kind of liquid just made him want to throw up more. He quickly climbs out of bed, throwing the covers over him.

He shuffles his way to the bathroom, hand over his mouth just in case a random force decides to jump him somehow. He flips on the lights, being blinded by the bright contrasts to his big pupils. He decided for a minute where to let this— whatever out. it didn't feel or taste like vomit— it tasted like . .

blood.

He felt the sweat get worse as his breathing made the feeling in his throat bad till the feeling of it tightening. He removes his hand from his mouth letting the cough carry the essences down to the sink.

That was definitely not vomit— it felt so scratchy and soft at the same time. The blonde opens his eyes after the long cough up, feeling the liquid dribble down his chin, onto the countertop. 

He was horrified. 

Full spots and pools of blood and petals of a dandelion scattered around the basin, it looked like someone had just killed a real living flower. He rubs his hand against this chin, catching the extra blood and saliva. His heart paced against his chest as his amber eyes won't calm around the scene. 

He soon finds his legs stumbling out of the bathroom, toward his laptop— not even a bother to clean up or turn the light off. Who would in this situation? You just find out you coughed up petals and blood, you should be more worried about that than a fucking bathroom.

His shaky and fast hands pull up the top of his laptop and opens a new tab besides his YouTube tab. He types quickly, ignoring all the errors from non-careful fingers on the keyboard the translates to;

why am i coughing up flowers???

And it's a 2% chance that Google would actually have an answer for that and a 98% chance that they won't. You wanna know which one it took? I think you can tell as Kaminari scrolls through useless articles about gardening that he wasn't even talking about.