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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    “How long?” Izuku asks, unable to decide which part of Katsuki's face he wants to look at. He grabs Katsuki's shirt again. He clenches it once, twice. “Kacchan, how long?”

    What is Katsuki supposed to say here? He can't even remember what it was like not to feel this way. Can't remember when it began either, he only knows that it did. At some point it started and it never stopped. It grew and grew until he knew and he knew he shouldn't and Izuku would never, and the only option he had left was to bury it. Bury it and deny it and let it hurt, yet never say it. Not to himself, not to Izuku—not to anyone.

    But Katsuki almost died. And Izuku is here, just like he always has been.

    So Katsuki closes his eyes and listens, to the sound of Izuku just being, to the breath on Katsuki's face as his hair tickles his forehead. He opens his heavy eyelids and stares into shining green, and he utters: “For a while.”

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    26 Oct 2024

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    They’re put into pens, kind of. It’s a long hallway, with many little stalls. Four of the walls, the floor and the ceiling of the stalls are made of concrete, Kirishima thinks. The remaining wall is made up of metal bars. What it means is that even though nearly every member of the class is locked in here, only a few of them can see each other, across the open hallway.

    ...But they can hear exactly what happens to Bakugo when their captors show up looking to blow off a little steam.

    Language:
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    26 Oct 2024

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