Work Text:
Izuku stood behind his purple haired friend. In his hand, a silver revolver. He raised the gun so the muzzle was against Hitoshi’s head.
“So long, my friend.” Izuku spoke, a wide grin spread across his face as he pulled the trigger. His smile never faltered, not even as blood splattered all over the white hall they were in, not even as the police cuffed him. Not even as Aizawa looked at him with a mix of disappointment and horror, and not even when he was sat on a chair, bound and blindfolded, did his wide grin falter.
He refused to falter. He would never stop smiling to hide the pain.