Sometimes, he thought he couldn't breathe when he saw you.
Whenever you sat by his side, it felt like there was someone inside him wanted to reach, to kiss and touch and hold and cry with you. He wanted to see you smile again, wanted to laugh with you, find light and joy in your time together.
But at the same time, every time you got close enough that he could smell your hair, feel your warmth, something in his hands and body burned, pain stung his chest, a hollowness he couldn't describe dug at his ability to think and speak and move.
You told him to go.
You wanted to hurt him. He saw it in your eyes- but he only now realized how bad he was hurting you too.
After blowing up in front of the class like that, even if they didn't hear anything, all he wanted to hide himself away.
In the corner of his room, he sat, still breathing heavy from earlier. He didn't know how to calm down. Whenever he freaked out about not being good enough, about not progressing enough, whenever he overworked himself, you were there. He could lean on you, he could bury his head in your neck, feel like everything was gonna be fine, but now-
This wasn't the first time since the incident he'd had a panic attack. Actually, it felt like almost every night, a certain shadow would move a certain way, or some askew wind would brush against his window. No matter how small the disruption, it made him jump out of bed, made his hands heat with the prospect of explosions, his body seize, his lungs heave.
You were right upstairs- he had to remind himself that you were right upstairs and everything was okay and no one was hurt.
Tonight, nothing could move him from where he sat. He was just so exhausted. So lost and angry and no matter what, he just couldn't stop wanting to hurt himself even more than he was hurting.
The Provisional License Exam was tomorrow. The old him would've freaked out about it, gone to bed early, tried to remain confident, checked his costume three or four times, but he just couldn't move.
He couldn't even cry.
He just thought of the look on your face when he said all those awful things out of desperation. You didn't even get mad. You didn't even yell. You didn't even hit him or fight because even you could see how broken he was.
Bakugo's throat let out a broken sort of noise as he grabbed at his hair, stared down at the wooden floors, shaking. Why couldn't he get past it? Why couldn't he just stop feeling this much... guilt.
Suddenly then, he heard the trees rustling outside, some leaves colliding with his window. The boy flinched at the sound, backed away from it, growled as for a moment he flashed back to the scene where the villains were chasing him. The leaves against the glass, the wind, it sounded like their footsteps, like their fire and their blades. The shadows, the sudden noise, it looked and felt like the darkness of the ruble, like the figure of a gun held by a nightmare aiming to finish the job.
Bakugo stood up, scraped the wall with his hands, they were so tense. Out of the corner of his eye, something else interrupted the moonlight, looked like someone about to grab him and he flinched again, stumbled backwards as he swung at his own desk till it collapsed on the ground. It was just a bird flying by that cast another shadow, but still he felt more fear than he ever had.
Someone must've heard the commotion, hopefully no one thought too much of it. His hands shook, blood from scrapes and splinters at how hard he threw the furniture streaming down his palm and fingers.
It didn't even hurt.
He was too scared for it to hurt.
And what if he wasn't paranoid. What if someone really was there and they wanted to hurt you? What if there was someone in his room? What if they tried to break in, disable him so he couldn't protect you? What if he was just too focused on his stupid panic to even realize it?
Before Bakugo could contemplate what was going on, he was moving things around. Roughly, without patience, without calculation. He put his desk back up, didn't bother putting anything back on it, instead pushing it to the window so it blocked the lock. There was a small hole in the wall, probably from a nail, but he didn't trust it. Punching through the spackle, Bakugo moved it around, made sure there wasn't anything more. His knuckles bruised from the impact, one of his fingers nearly breaking.
The trees rustled again, the wind banging at his window as if wanting entry. Bakugo shivered, ran to his door as someone was about to enter, his door knob turning.
"Hey, Bakugo? You okay ma-"
Kirishima's voice was interrupted as Bakugo banged his body against the door, closing it shut.
"Go away!" He yelled, his voice cracking, out of breath, his pupils small as his eyes scanned his room.
"Bakugo, it's just me, is everything alright?"
Though he could hear his friend just on the other side, Bakugo couldn't stop his heart from beating so fast he thought it would explode. Everything was muffled and all he could hear was the sounds of a bullet making impact with bone and flesh, the hitch in your breath, the villains ready to capture you again, the one who saved you when he couldn't.
Eventually, all those images and sounds faded. All that panic too. Back into the realm of his mind that had yet to let out emotions he didn't know how to feel. To face truths he had no idea how to overcome.
What was left was a shell of a boy who once thought he could take on the world as he fell back into his door, witnessing the evidence of pain he didn't have the courage to feel.
***
Shoto never liked tea. You got why and never really pushed the topic although when you had a mug in hand he still stared a bit.
"You good?" You asked, sitting in the common room, criss-crossed on the couch as you took a sip.
You and Shoto were the only two downstairs, the dim lighting making for a nice atmosphere given what'd transpired.
Your brother looked lost in thought, pensive, his eyes squinted more than usual, his lips a bit pursed. His big exam was tomorrow so perhaps he was worrying about that, overanalyzing like you used to.
"Shoto?" You said, waving your hand in front of his face to get his attention.
He didn't really respond. Just blinked a few times and shook his head.
You sighed. Poor guy. He had dark circles forming, his fists cutely rubbing at his eyes. He needed to rest, sleep after all his training, but he didn't want to leave you.
After what happened earlier, he honestly was hoping to get your mind off of it. The two of you studied a little bit, compared notes, spent time with some of your classmates who were kind enough to avoid the subject of Bakugo.
Once they all went to bed, you stayed, so, so did he.
Midoriya squeezed your shoulder before he went up to his room, asked you something as he knelt down that Shoto couldn't hear. Something about if you wanted him to meet with you again. You shook your head, said you understood he needed his rest for the test tomorrow and sent him off.
Shoto didn't know that Midoriya and you were that close. Of course you were always friendly, hung out with the groups sometimes, but you were never that... touchy with one another.
"Y/n?" Shoto called, cocking his head to the side.
"Mhm?" You hummed, taking a sip of your tea, leaning back against the couch.
"Are you and Midoriya having intercourse?"
The tea was spit from your mouth so quick you choked on it, coughing it up as Shoto scooted closer, pat your back lightly with a blank look on his face.
"My god, not you too-" you covered your mouth with your elbow, your coughs interrupting your voice.
"I'm not assuming anything, just thought I should ask-"
"No, you dense idiot, I'm not sleeping with anyone," You tried to emphasize that, sort of frustrated your own family could be thinking that sort of thing.
Once you calmed though, you realized then that Shoto didn't accuse you of cheating. That was his own way of asking if you were dating him. Because after everything he probably thought-
"Are you and Bakugo not together anymore?"
His tone. It was almost... disappointed. Like if it meant that your relationship was over, Todoroki would feel hurt as well.
At first, he thought Bakugo was annoying, tyrannic, but he also learned to see how happy he made you. How much he loved you and was wiling to protect you. He brought out the real you, rescued you from your own horribly messed up self perceptions born of neglect.
As he rubbed your back up and down and you laid your head on his shoulder, Shoto felt your chest lift as you sighed.
"I don't know,"
Your tone. It was just as disappointed. Like a reflection of beautiful memories were passing your eyes, the knowledge they'd never be lived again making them blank with hopelessness.
Shoto shifted to face you.
"I didn't hear what he said in the cafeteria, but you looked very upset."
"He called me a whore because I chose to find comfort in someone else while he spent his time avoiding me." You turned to face him too, a sour, emotionless glare in your eyes. "Yeah," You whispered, raising your brows and smirking to mask your pain. "I was upset."
Shoto's jaw sort of dropped as he blinked a few times, his fists starting to clench. When you saw the anger forming on his face you let out a little scoff, nudged him with your elbow. "Don't get all defensive Shoto, I have thicker skin than that."
"You should've hit him." Todoroki bit, thinking back to the unhinged look in Bakugo's eyes, how much he wanted to smack him back into a more sane version of himself.
Still, you didn't seem to mind. Before you would've held a grudge, been mad at him for days, but matching the energy of the boy you still loved, you were just... apathetic.
"What would that have solved?" You asked, lightly, but still with a backdraw of sadness.
"It would make me a lot less upset." Shoto reasoned, making you chuckle slightly at his loyalty.
Drawing your hand up, you scratched at his scalp a bit, ruffled his hair, put your forehead against his- a way of thanking him. Shoto sighed back, knowing to trust that you were handling your own maybe-relationship. He mimicked your movements, closed his eyes, put his hand at the back of your head and kept the contact.
He thought of Bakugo again, this time with a less emotional outlook. So did you. But-
"You didn't see it, Y/n," Shoto whispered, pulling away, looking at you with such a traumatized air.
You stared back, confused, furrowing your brows, cocking your head.
He was looking down. It saddened your brother to think the same person who once reached out and made him promise to protect you was the same person who now couldn't even be in the same room.
"The way he fell apart when you..." Shoto thought back to the incident with the league. It was as hurtful for him as you to think back to that night, but sometimes when he remembered Bakugo his heart broke even more.
Shoto bit his lip, saw Katsuki holding your body in his arms. "He cried so hard, he lost himself, tried to kill... he was in so much pain."
As the boy explained, you had to imagine that. Because no one had ever actually told you what happened in that brief time you were gone. That brief time you felt like you were sleeping for an eternity. But from the look on Shoto's face, from the sheer emotion in how he said the words, you started to understand.
Your brother met your gaze, whispering, "He kept screaming that they took his life away, that they took his future."
The light of the common room felt dimmer than before now. Everything felt dimmer now.
Thinking of that horrid place. The wind that night, the last fleeting sound of Atomic's voice inside your head. It made your hands tremble.
Worse, thinking of Katsuki... Screaming, shaking in anger and loss, betraying everything he ever stood for, losing himself, it made you shake your head and squint your eyes so you wouldn't have to see it any longer.
"Y/n, I don't think he's angry because he finds you weak. I think he's angry because, in a way," Shoto stopped, looking down at your hands that he was now holding, cupping in his own like little two precious things he could've once lost. Then gazing back up at you, he said something he could actually relate to, something that bound him and Bakugo more than you knew. "You chose to jeopardize the most important person in the world to him... And he couldn't do a thing about it."
Something about that made your heart ache. You hadn't thought about it that much at the time. All you knew then was that the most important person in the world to you was at risk. You knew that everything about your past had been a lie. That you were a user and a killer... And for some reason in your mind, that made it okay to die for the people you loved.
"He doesn't want me to get Atomic back so I can be a hero," You said, finally realizing why he'd had such an outburst earlier. "He wants me to get him back because it's the only way he knows I'll be safe,"
Shoto nodded his head a few times, the two of you sitting in a short, albeit heavy silence.
"I wouldn't mind that either by the way." He mumbled. "Even if you don't become a hero, it'd be nice if you didn't hit me every time I come up behind you,"
You chuckled slightly at that, your clumsiness an acquired taste since Atomic could no longer tell you where things were in your periphery.
"Can I ask you something though?" Shoto asked.
"Course," You whispered.
"How come you don't mind? That your quirk is gone?" The question was genuine, but it had an air of suspicion, some guilt attached too. "Is it because you never wanted to be a hero? Because my father pushed us into it?"
You shook your head, knit your brows in a way that told him it had nothing to do with that.
"Atomic taught more than you could know- I'll always be thankful for having such a thing in my life," You said, sometimes, in the dead of night missing that quirk that always seemed like a friend more than a burden. "But it was also a restraint. Everyone thought I was so powerful that the only thing I could ever be was a pro hero," Shifting in your seat, it was difficult not to remember all the times people would visit Enji, tell him what fine heroes you and Shoto would make, all your teachers reveering you, even All Might failing Katsuki, Aizawa nearly failing you in the past.
You scoffed. "I've met a lot of pro heroes," If only Shoto knew the extent of what you really thought. Because now? You were barely giving him a taste of your new mentality now that your past was clear. "I've met villains too."
Shoto waited. For a reason.
You sighed into your answer, "Tenko's a good person." You said. "I could see it in the eyes of some of the others there too, in his league-"
"He tried to kill you-"
"He saved me," You corrected, Todoroki frowning hard at what you were insinuating. "He was taken just like I was. He was forced to do things, just like I was- I mean- imagine if it'd been him they found in the rubble instead of me, imagine it was him you grew up with-"
"That's not comparable, Y/n, he's killed people-"
"So have I!"
You didn't mean to yell. But it just happened.
Todoroki's eyes went a little wider. Even though he knew the way you put it just...
"Heroes failed him, Shoto." You whispered. "And I will not strive to be part of a system I know will fail him again,"
So that's why you were so calm about it. That's why you didn't even seem to mind the fact that being a hero was basically out of the question now.
Todoroki felt like he wanted to cry. Even if it wasn't his life- you and him always talked about being heroes when you were little, even if his dad got in the way of your happiness, you always leaned on each other that way.
And if he became a hero- would you be disappointed in him too?
You reached forward again, caressed his hand till his gaze drew to yours. You smiled, let him know it was okay.
"That doesn't mean I don't have faith in you," You whispered, "I know in my heart that you and Izuku and everyone here might just fix it, one day."
Slowly but surely, a smile once again began curving his lips. There was finally some seemness of hope in your eyes too. And it felt like you were telling him something he always needed to hear from his father, from the people in his life he looked up to; That he could be a hero in his own right rather than follow in the footsteps of those who disappointed him too.
You smiled back, "I just... wanna go my own way,"
Shoto nodded, hugged you so hard it made you laugh.
When you'd come to an understanding, Shoto and you walked back to the fifth floor, to your adjoining rooms reminiscing on when you used to share one and complained about each other's odd, sometimes noisy sleeping habits.
It felt nice. To bond with him without the barrier of his worry and his want to take care of you.
"Night, Sho," You said, going to open your door.
He waved, proceeded into his room.
But when you finally went into yours, you didn't realize that someone else was already there.
Katsuki. Sitting in the corner. Twirling a broken little plane between his fingers.
***
His head hung so low you couldn't even see his eyes. His hair overshadowed most of his face, his jawline and the inherently hard line of his mouth all you could really pick out in the darkness of your room.
You didn't say anything. You just stood against the door, hand on the door knob, took in the fact that he was actually here.
His chest leaned towards his knees, his arms folded over his legs, his focus caught by the little red thing he observed in both hands like the most fragile thing in the world.
The boy across the room said nothing for a while, didn't even turn to see who'd come in. He just sat there, hidden by the overcast of your desk from the moonlight.
"Why didn't you tell me it was broken?" He asked, his voice rough and exhausted. Like his throat had been ripped apart by the sobs he'd been holding in for weeks.
The memory of that plane as it fell from the windowsill the first day he started to pull away passed like a fleeting moment across your face. A shaky exhale left your mouth.
"I tried," You whispered, leaning your head back against the door with defeated air. "You ignored me."
Finally, Katsuki looked up. Turned his head to meet your gaze, his eyes giving some red-toned light to the space, the most prominent and vulnerable part of him.
Everytime he was ever upset, sad, in pain, overworking himself, angry, anything, if his voice or his touches couldn't get it across, his eyes always did. Because he never felt the need to put a wall up with you. He always trusted you enough to not hide himself away.
But now, as you both stared at another- the evidence of something that once tethered you with its metaphor laying broken in his hands- his eyes told you nothing.
"You should go to bed, Katsuki." you said, your voice telling him nothing too as you began walking into your room without care. "You have your exam in the morning,"
The moment you took a few steps, made your way to your bed, Bakugo pushed off the ground, stood up. His gate was erratic, as if in the aftermath of panic, his breaths betraying his attempt to stay calm.
Once he was at your back, your body facing the wall as you took of your sweatshirt, reached to undo the covers of your bed, he spoke, "I'm sorry for what I said-"
"I don't care what you said," the interruption made even more worry crawl through him like little parasites.
Thank god you couldn't see his face. You would've seen the weakness written all over it- how close he was to breaking down.
"Don't say that," he whispered and you turned to face him again.
Immediately, he tried to hide again. But you caught a glimmer of it- a glimmer of that terrified emotion fleeting across his eyes.
You shook your head slowly, your own expression just as emotionless as his mask.
"I don't though," You said, shrugging your shoulders in a quick, careless motion. "I'm not sorry for what I said, I meant all of it."
And there was plenty more you had to say. Plenty more pain you could so easily use to crumble the perceptions he had. But that spark of spite still alive in you, angered from the way he judged you that afternoon wasn't cruel enough. It didn't outshine the empathy you still had.
"I understand that I hurt you by giving up Atomic, by... taking away your choice- and I apologized for it- multiple times," you said, staring up at him, showing just how strong you were. "But you weren't there for me. You still aren't."
"B-but I'm not mad about that anymore and I'm here- I'm always here. I'm always right next to you." His voice grew more desperate as he stepped forward, reached out with both hands as if going to place them on your hips. But just as quickly as he reached something in him flinched away again.
Everytime he did that it was like putting salt in the wound. It felt like he was taunting you and it only made that spark light a fire.
"That means nothing," you said. "You think I'm an idiot? You think I don't see that you force yourself to come sit next to me, to be in my presence? It's like it makes you physically sick to be near me,"
"It doesn't! I-I just-" Bakugo clenched his fists, caught that he was about to yell, reigned it in- didn't want to hurt your ears in case they hurt.
His heart was beating so fast. He was hyper analyzing every move he made, overthinking every breath you took. Then staring at you for a second, an alarm went off in his head, telling him something was wrong. "Why are you standing like that?"
He pointed to the fact that you were leaning on one side more than the other, your face sometimes twitching. You leaned against the door earlier? Did you hurt yourself? Were you cringing because it was infected? What if your wound did get infected? That bullet was in there for at least forty-five minutes, did they clean the wound properly during your surgery? He always thought about that. And you just moved again, you were frowning at him like you were confused, but again your shoulders moved a weird way, and- "W-why are you standing like that? What's wrong?"
You were just confused now.
"What do you mean?"
"Your back, you-" Katsuki swallowed, his eyes flickering from your legs to your shoulders, as if he was observing every micromovement you made.
God, what was he thinking that he looked like he was about to self-destruct?
"I'm fine," you whispered, lightly, genuinely, shaking your head. "It just gets sore sometimes,"
Bakugo let out a manic breath through his teeth. You were lying. It hurt. He could see that it hurt.
"I-I told you to tell me this kind of thing," he bit, but there wasn't any aggression in his tone, just... panic. "Turn around,"
"Katsuki-"
"Please!" Again he looked like he regretted that, even took a step back, his chin dipping slightly. Like an apology for raising his voice.
Your jaw hung loose, your brows knit.
He did such a good job of hiding it most of the time.
It was sort of surprising to see all those emotions in him slip just above the surface.
Doing as he asked, you turned back around slowly, crossed your arms to grab the hem of your shirt and pulled it gently upwards with little movements.
As soon as Katsuki could see your skin, know that you weren't looking, you felt him get closer. Felt his eyes on you examining the healing injury.
There was a row of stitches just under your right shoulder blade where the surgery was performed, to its side some residual scarring from the impact of the bullet.
Bakugo's gaze fluttered from the first stitch to the last, as if he was making sure everyone was still in place, every single detail meritting a checkpoint in his mind.
"It's red at the edges," he muttered, wondering if it was just some irritation or if something worse was happening and you just weren't telling him.
"It doesn't hurt," you said, small voiced, going to put your shirt back down now that he got to see it.
As you did, Bakugo stopped you, his hand reflexively grabbing the back of your shirt making sure it was still pulled up to your shoulders. That was the closest he'd come to touching you in weeks, the sound of the fabric stretching in his fist causing your eyes to go wide with the strength he used.
When you're stressed, your muscles can tense to the point of snapping at the fibers. That's what makes any motion so sudden, so harsh and strengthened. It's because you're afraid. Sometimes, not even for yourself.
"You're taking care of it, right?" he barely whispered, his breathing choppy and without pace. You felt his eyes glued to the wound. And even if you weren't facing him, it was easy enough to feel the sheer amount of terror at the uncertainty of your healing from the sounds of his heartbeat.
Taking one step forward so he'd let go, you faced him again, got so close, he had to flinch a bit, but you weren't paying attention to that.
You peered into him, tried to make him see that you were there. That you were physically present. That you weren't in danger and that you weren't a danger to him.
But just as you were about to tell him to calm down, to go back to bed, you caught sight of his palms shaking at his sides.
There was blood all over them. Scrapes and cuts, bruises on his knuckles, some of his nails cracked- liked they'd been torn about by some kind of wild animal.
"Katsuki, your hands," you said, with equal worry to his, reaching to hold them in yours, make sure he was okay.
But again, the mere second he felt your warmth, the tender feel of your skin stroking his, that alarm went off in his head again. His eyes went wide, his fists clenched, one of them around the plane he was still holding. Without thought, he even moved his arms back with enough force to make you stumble.
Your breath hitched as he did.
At the hospital, when he watched you go through physical therapy and you'd try and hold his hand, those were the first times he rejected you. Then, before he would leave at night, rather than kiss you, caress your knuckles, hold you as he did before, he said goodnight, left, went on his way.
When you stayed at his house, under the care of his mom, with Shoto, every opportunity he had to be distant he took. When you couldn't stand on your own, it took everything in him to even help you up. When he'd go train, come home with scratches or bruises, he wouldn't even let you look, wouldn't let you touch him with so much as a rag to his forehead.
Every single time that happened. Every single time he chose to let his fear pull you away, he made you relive moments of your past you buried:
Your faceless parents locking you outside, yelling when you went to so much as hug them, Shoto scooting away when you needed to be held, all those eyes staring down at you during the festival when the only person in the entire world who wasn't scared stood on the same platform.
And with everyone of those actions, Katsuki slowly broke that plane nestled into his palm. And every time you didn't know how to help and kept pushing for something he wasn't willing to give, so did you.
Letting a desperate sound out, you tsk-ed, because to hell with giving up.
Not letting Bakugo think any longer, you took one daring step forward, pressed your forehead up against his as his exhale came out in shocked fragments, his hair standing on end. He didn't step back, but god knows his body and mind were screaming at him to.
You shut your eyes, felt him close to you, felt the warmth you'd been craving, if only a taste of it. Without wasting anymore time, you pressed your hand to the center of Bakugo's chest, right over his heart.
"Do you remember the moment I fell in love with you?" you asked, holding yourself back from crying, your lungs about to implode.
Katsuki was shivering, his muscles so wound, his eyes shut so tight. Like it physically tore him apart inside just to feel you.
You bit your lip, held onto the memory of the first time you were in his room- the first time you caught sight of that pretty little red model on his window sill, the first time he proved his trust.
"You were the only person in the world who wasn't scared to touch me," You whimpered, your fingers flexing back and forth over his shirt, his heart beating so fast, so harshly it was audible again. "You took my hand and y-you pressed it right here so I could feel your heart,"
You held onto the memory of that smoke cloud that he made just to conceal you from the world, just to get you to feel like you weren't being seen as a monster. You held onto the memory of the first time you kissed him, the look in his eyes as he proved his trust again.
You couldn't give that up. You couldn't give up. He never let you give up!
"I can do it, Katsuki," you whispered, never meaning anything more in your life. Even as he was on the edge of breaking apart. "We can get through this, I can help you. You just have to trust me again, please."
But the moment you reached up with both hands to cup his face, he couldn't handle it any longer.
A cry left the boy's throat as he stumbled backwards, shook his head to get away. He fell back into the wall, put as much distance as he possibly could between you and him.
When he collapsed onto the ground, he felt like there was a hole in his chest. He couldn't move, couldn't even bear to open his eyes.
So how could he possibly know that with that final act of pushing you away, the plane shattered and fell to the ground in pieces...
You didn't even recognize him.
That boy in your memories. He wasn't the same as the one huddling into the wall trying so desperately to not exist while at once trying to fix what he'd destroyed.
You couldn't even bring yourself to cry.
Neither could he.
It didn't even feel real.
All you felt was the last thread holding you together cut in two by a coldness neither of you knew.
It didn't feel real till you crouched slowly to the ground, picked up the pieces of your little airplane, gathered them tenderly in your palms. The only sound echoing in the room was that of its corpse against the floor, each bit, one by one left dead in your hold.
Bakugo finally opened his eyes when your footsteps neared, when he caught sight of your face as you crouched down to his level.
He was so terrified. He was trembling still. He held his knees against his chest. He just didn't know what to do.
And the look on your face. The sheer defeat glossing over the lack of color in your eyes scared him even more.
Then, careful not to get too close, you laid what was left of his first and final gift to you at his feet like you were burying a body.
Then, you sighed. Long and dry. Your eyes half lidded, blinking slowly.
"I don't think either of us can fix it this time." You muttered, staring down at it till you found it in yourself to look into Katsuki's eyes.
He didn't know what was happening. He couldn't say a word. He couldn't come closer. He couldn't do all the things he desperately wished he could. He couldn't reach forward, kiss you, keep you close, couldn't even apologize or bear his heart or say anything.
Then, you smiled.
Because that was the only way to lie and say things were going to be okay.
"At least we both tried," you whispered, the sadness in your eyes betraying the curve of your lips. "So don't blame yourself,"
Bakugo shook even more than before, one of his hands even flexing to reach for you again. He clenched his jaw. He let his emotions pour through his eyes, pleading with you even as you went to look away for the last time.
"Y/n," he whimpered, "please-"
"Just because something falls apart doesn't mean it wasn't beautiful while it lasted," you said, interrupting him.
Because you had to.
Katsuki held your eye contact, begging you not to leave him. The blue light of the night beaming through your window couldn't even outshine the pure desperation breaking down past the walls he tried so hard to uphold.
In his face, you saw all the moments you and him shared the greatest joys of each other's lives. You saw the moment you first set eyes on him in that classroom. Your teasings and your arguments. The laughs and the growls and the frowns and the smirks and the smiles he gave you. The tender moments of his existence. Your kisses and your little reminders of each other's love. The hard times. The fights and the hospital trips and the illnesses and the injuries. But all the good times too. All the nights and days and weekends you spent together. Exploring and resting and reading and talking and playing and learning to grow together...
You thanked him with your smile. Hoped he could see the beauty in those memories as you did.
Then, you left.
Left your own room, shut the door behind you, walked into yours brothers without even knowing how you got there. Because all you saw was the fear in Katsuki's eyes, the utter disbelief as you walked away.
"Y/n?" Shoto sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes, standing up to go to you. "Everything okay?"
It didn't feel real.
That's what you thought as you stared at the floor.
It didn't feel real till you realized all those memories you were holding onto would never exist again.
You started to shake. Just like Katsuki had. You saw his smile, felt his hug, tasted his kiss, heard his laughter against your lips. You saw it all fade away.
You grabbed at your chest. Started to fall to your knees, your mouth open as you couldn't even make a sound.
Shoto ran to you the last few steps, caught you when you fell, unknowing concern lighting his eyes as tears fell from yours.
It didn't feel real. It just didn't feel real, but it was. And you just kept seeing him. Seeing what you used to have- the plane tickets in his hands, the way he danced with you, how he used to talk about the future he wanted, in public when he would let you find comfort in him, in private when he would let himself find comfort in you.
That was all gone. That was never going to happen again. Never.
You couldn't even say I love you one last time. Couldn't kiss him one last time. Never again.
And so, it felt like for a second time, your heart broke in two.
You began to sob, so hard Shoto had to hold you close, had to wrap his arms around you so you wouldn't fall into yourself.
You bawled into his shoulder, your hands fisting his shirt as realization slowly came down upon him.
"It hurts," you cried, your brother starting to tear up just from feeling yours fall. "It hurts so bad,"
"I know," He whispered, caressing the back of your head as you cried even harder. You had to muffle your weeping into his shirt as he rocked you back and forth. "It's gonna be okay," He said, feeling the love you felt for that boy tear you apart more than a bullet ever could. "I promise it's gonna be okay,"
***
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AND incase this didn't hurt enough:
Here is a timeline of my favorite dual-symbol in this story the *plane*:
Chapter 13: we meet the plane as a symbol of a childhood that y/n admires and wishes she could've had that Katsuki did.
Chapter 32: Katsuki gives y/n the plane as a new symbol of their relationship. It holds the connotation of their care for each other and it is something only the two of them understand/know the meaning of. However, its wing is bent, it's not ready.
Between Chapter 32 and Chapter 45: Katsuki has trouble figuring out exactly how to fix the plane. This is symbolic of the fact that he's never been in a relationship and still needs to "figure out" his role, how to 'not break it'. Eventually, when he thinks the plane (and himself) are ready, he gives the plane back to y/n entrusting her to take care of the relationship just as he does.
Until Chapter 53: y/n cared for the plane like the most precious thing on earth. When he tells Aizawa the planes are to remind her that "she deserved better" he means she deserved a better past, just as he meant in the beginning, a past that led her to believe she came second to everyone and be used and have trauma etc. Still, y/n tries her best to keep the relationship alive. But Katsuki's distance is too much to bear. As is his coldness and his lack of empathy, even if he doesn't mean it. The plan falls from the windowsill the day he starts to flinch.
Chapter 53: Katsuki just now realizes the plane is broken (the relationship). He wants to fix it really badly. But when he can't overcome his PTSD, his fear, he accidentally breaks the plane completely (breaks their relationship). Y/n gives it back to him as a sign that she no longer has the strength to be pushed away. Neither of them can fix something that far gone. But at least they tried. And just because something falls doesn't mean it wasn't beautiful while it lasted...
:D <3
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