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Red Strings Of Fate Are Choking Me.

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“He was my sun, my moon, my stars. My everything.”

If someone told him on an early Sunday morning, he would be speaking about the man who broke his heart, he might’ve laughed. He might’ve then cried afterwards. But that wasn’t how it went down.

The air was cool, blowing his shirt softly back and forth. The sky was dark, and the stars shone into existence. Honestly, staring into the dark sky with the moon held high, and the wind whispering, it was all very comforting. It didn’t scare him anymore, he didn’t even shiver.

His heart never sped up again. It hasn’t since him.

He sits on the roof, his legs dangle. He isn’t scared of how close he is to the edge. His life doesn’t flash before his eyes. He doesn’t feel it. His heart doesn’t thump so loud that it’ll fall out of his chest. Nope. It all stays perfectly still, perfectly balanced with numbness.

“Hey... What’re you doing up here?”

Kirishima doesn’t recognize the voice but he does know the tone. One of someone surprised, hinting concern. But at the same time, they are here for something of the same.
Neither can sleep, something chipping at their hearts ever so slowly.

Kirishima collects himself up with a deep breath. He turns his head, attention collecting up who it is standing here too.
In the dimly lit light of the door to the roof, Kirishima makes out a face. The hair gave it away. Half white half red. Todoroki.

“I…Could ask you the same. I can’t sleep at this time.” Kirishima restricted any other words passing through his lips. It already felt like too much to say.

What he doesn’t expect is for Todoroki walk out from under the light into the darkness. He sits next to Kirishima, although leaving space in between them.

“Whatever is on your mind… You should speak it. I could… listen.” Todoroki quiet but comforting voice broke into him.

For some reason his mouth started to open. Words begged to be spoke, and he couldn’t stop them even if he wanted to. So, he did.

“He was my sun, my moon, my stars. My everything. But I’m sure you already know this..”


“Yeah. I guess it wasn’t meant to be or some shit? But it’s over. I don’t know. Its even harder when I have to be around him so much even now. But you know what is the worst part? I can’t feel anything anymore. I feel nothing towards anything in this world, and I just hate it. Its like seeing in black and white suddenly after seeing the most vivid and beautiful colors in the world. And I can’t even hate him for this. I just can’t. I don’t even actually know why. I know its some pure bullshit but I’m some damn idiot who couldn’t even find the answer. He took away my everything. He took away my color, he took away the life from me. I don’t feel anything except for the pain when I see him. I just want answers. No. What I want even more is to just feel okay again. I wish I could smile genuinely again but I’m not sure I ever will. I know its been 5 months… Almost six whole months but I can’t just let it go.“ He needs to stop talking for a minute, his hands are in fists. Scratch that, his arms aren’t tensed up, they are hardened. It’s almost too much for him and he wants to just scream.

Todoroki just looks ahead. He knows not to try to do anything, it’d all be so wrong. He’d never been able to comfort someone before.

For a time, there is silence. Or at least, how silent it can get apart from the wind and Kirishima’s heavy breaths.

“Maybe… If you can’t just forget your feelings, you aren’t meant to. Maybe there is something still tugging you to him, and until you can cut that string, you are still someone meant to be bound to him.”

“What? Do you mean I have to talk to him? I can’t.”

Todoroki shrugged.” Maybe. I’m not saying that, but if speaking with him gives you the strength to cut that string, do it.”

Kirishima sighs harshly, finally letting the tension go in his body. He isn’t sure what to think. He shrugs away from the ledge and stands up.
He heads from the room without thinking. His thoughts too clouded, and his eyes and body too tired. He could think more with a clear mind.

If only Kirishima had known who was listening and watching silently the whole time. Who stood in the shadows as he walked in, ready to walk after him. But when he saw Kirishima, he deflated. He remembered the words, and he saw his face. And he couldn’t. Kirishima was out of reach on the other end of the string.

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He didn’t know the nature of the conversation or how far it’d gone, but he knew how Kirishima looked. He knew his pale skin glistened, and he knew he looked ghostly. He knew how flat and dead the fading red looked.

If he knew so much why didn’t he run out there? Why didn’t he even reach out in the slightest? These questions cannot ever be answered.
His body was unmoving, his body was numbed to being in this place. In the shadows is where he belonged.

He stood in the darkness, straining to hear the words spoke. He heard little murmurs, and snippets. But the words he heard from Kirishima was more than enough to understand the conversation. His head fell, hair falling over his eyes. Bakugo Katsuki was the center of this conversation and he felt this pounding dead, heart stopping feeling in his chest.

No one in the setting was aware of how much time had gone by, and no one cared either. While he wallowed, with that lump in his throat and his heavy heart spinning, the door opened. Kirishima walked by, unnoticing of Bakugo.

Bakugo’s eyes rise, looking through the cracks of his hair. He watched flat red hair swoosh by. His heart pounds, his mouth agape. He can’t believe it. He can’t think. Not a single noise comes out, and he feels frozen. It almost feels like a crush except there’s a twist: a crushing feeling of dreading and heart break.

And within the blink of an eye, he’s gone. Gone. And any sliver of hope evaporated in the spot too. He breaths finally after feeling and seeing those past memories that made his breath hitch. But it’s not long.

“I know you’re here, Bakugou.” The quietness of his voice was chilling and cold.

Bakugo was pressed against the wall in one movement. Todoroki’s eyes locked with Bakugou’s. He was searching for something. His eyes flickered. His eyebrows furrowed together.

He scoffs. “Are you done?”

Knuckles crashing against his cheek speak the words. He feels and hears the crackling. It numbly hurts but in this space it doesn’t matter. A voice in his little head tells him he deserves this. It doesn’t matter what he says, and at this hour he isn’t even in the mind to fight back. His body just slumps motionless against the wall.

His eyes were devoted of emotion, a void of plain red.

The two stood at eye level. Todoroki’s were filled with fire. Bakugo’s eyes were just dead, uninterested.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you not care? I may not be able to understand, but I understand this: Go talk to him. We sure both know he will hesitate until you say something first.”

Bakugo huffs, “Whatever.”

He turns his head, feeling the prickliness of the blood falling down his face. Rationally, he should get it checked out. But it’s late, and irrationally? He doesn’t care enough about himself right now to do it.

Todoroki storms away from him. His body rattled angrily for a few moments before becoming timid again. Bakugo watched him leave, eyes trained carefully not to let something show.

He collapsed onto the ground. Before he knows what’s going on, tears are mixing with blood falling down his cheeks to his chin and neck. Some droplets make it onto his shirt.

But he can’t feel it. Numb. Helpless.

And for the first time in almost six months, he cries. For the first time, he feels something. He feels like his heart is being ripped out. It feels like when he doesn’t get enough sleep, and he can’t comprehend anything ahead of him. The only thing he is comprehending is how much he hates where he is right now. Who he is. What he did. And in this moment, he can’t seem to see why he did it.

Why would he rip his own heart out? Why would he create so much pain? Why would he end it with the one person he’s ever loved?

His eyes are cloudy and blurry, and he’s glad. He wishes to never see anything again. He knows he doesn’t deserve to just not see though. He’s not the one who’s supposed to be hurt, here is he? But he’s here late in the night crying. He knows all it would it take is one person to walk over here and see him.

He knows it was a mistake being here. He doesn’t how he’ll get up and go back to his room. His body feels glued to this spot. And he can’t stop crying for a second. He keeps falling deeper.

After two or three attempts he gets up. The tears start again with a single movement. He growls, frustrated to be crying again.

His bed is warm, but he doesn’t feel it. His eyes are red even while they are closed. And the streams of tears don’t stop even while sleeping. They just continuously fall.

By morning his bed is soaked in wet salty tears.