Chapter Text
Shining pupils dissected the clear beads that raced against one another on the clear glass of the shower. With every second, his pick to win changed, no longer trusting his own judgment over who would be the winner.
No, no, his judgment was good.
His judgment was pure.
It was still good— his judgment was still good — he just didn't care about this childish water game.
That's all. That's all it was.
He didn't bat an eye at the occasional pink droplet that raced down towards the drain. His heart wasn't about to break out of his chest when he caught sight of the tainted water. The beating appendage was always calm and comfortable in the jail cell that was his ribs. Seeing that impure water cross the imaginary finish line and into the drain didn't affect him at all.
It didn't give him relief. He didn't need to feel relief. He was fine. Everything is normal. He's just taking a shower like another day.
No.
Why couldn't he feel the scalding water on his skin despite the handle being cranked all the way to the hottest setting like he normally could? He couldn't understand why everything felt frigidly cold. He wasn't feeling the scalding water he craved. That he needed. He wanted to get rid of the goosebumps tattooed on his skin.
The sudden ringing in his ears ended his need to purify his skin. Surely, he was clean enough by now. Right? His strong gaze obsessively scanning over the white towel that had dried him. Yeah, he was right.
He was clean.
He was good. The pure white towel showed him that.
He was good.
He was righteous.
He had done the right thing.
Despite fumbling with the bathroom door handle, he emerged from the room with confident strides with his reinstated resolve. Making his way around the disheveled king bed that was the centerpiece of the room, he ventured towards the disgusting alarm that wormed its way into his brain. Taking a deep breath, he gracefully tip-toed his way to the bed stand that served as the home to the ringing phone, peering at the uncomfortably bright screen.
(Y/N).
He nearly lost his grip on the towel around his hips at seeing your name. The one name he didn't want to see on that fucking phone. For the first time, he felt like he was going to throw up. A sudden wave of nausea overtook him as he noticed the adornments of hearts surrounding your name— that was not the man below him doing.
That was impossible.
He would never let his fingers flit across the screen to add such romantic frills to your name. No, no, no. He was brash, rude, but most of all incapable. Yes, he was incapable of this...loving gesture. After the initial shock of such a decorated name tag, something even more troubling stood out to the man. One he had overlooked.
Your name.
He used your name.
Of course, he would use your name.
No. Wait.
You must have done it.
When you first started dating. You must have forced him to change your name on his phone.
That's when this happened. That's how this happened.
He didn't do that.
You did that.
You must have also been responsible for all those sickeningly sweet and, frankly, childish hearts flanking your name. It was only logical. Yes, logical. Perhaps he was losing his mind for even pondering the idea that he could be capable of the gesture. No, it was you, not him.
The caring. The dedicated. The loving. The loyal. The beautiful. The considerate.
The perfect you.
Although his mind was screaming at him not to touch the phone, his finger couldn't help itself from swiping at the screen, answering it.
"Katsuki?"
Shivers of jubilance sprinted up his spine at hearing your candied voice. A bright smile couldn't help but appear on his face. Hearing you was like hearing an angel, bringing his wild mind back to a state of peace.
"Katsuki? Are you feeling okay?"
Looking below him, the male cleared his throat as his mind went through the rolodex of information he had on the blond. Finally, it landed on the rare memory of the explosive male being sick. Deepening his voice and speaking from the back of his throat, he did his best to imitate the memory, "M'm fine, don't worry."
"Suki, you sound fucking horrible."
Suki.
Alright, that one, he can admit, burned him.
Peering down the emptied eyed Suki, a thrilling thought crossed his mind. Did you have a nickname for him behind closed doors? What kind of nickname did you have for him? Was it cute? Was it endearing? Certainly, it would be better than Suki.
It simply had to be.
A blissful smile broke out on his face at his brief dreaming. Later, he would have to dedicate more time to the issue of finding out his secret moniker; but, alas, he unfortunately had more pressing issues to attend to at the moment. Ultimately, the male decided that a rumbling grunt would suffice enough as a response. A solemn breath was on the other end, followed by a soft pause.
"Alright, you aren't coming in, got it? I'll take care of your shift with Kiri; then I'll head over to your place, okay?"
Again, you were met with a series of groaned, incoherent mumbles where the only coherent words were colorful words to give it that signature Bakugou flair.
"I'll take that as a yes then," a strained laugh escaped you, "now get some sleep, Katsuki. I...I love you."
"I love you too."
Shit.
That came out too clear.
Too much like him. Not like Bakugou.
Quickly, the male stabbed the red button, ending the call before you could further question his slip up. He needed to leave now. He had already set the scene. A believable one at that. It was utterly perfect. He had nothing to worry about. He just needed to let things take their course.
Let things take their course.
But...you were coming.
You were going to be the one to find him like this.
You weren't supposed to be the one to find him.
You shouldn't have to....let things take course.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
Great, and now that ugly voice was back in his head.
Sucking against his teeth, he glared down at the perfectly positioned body, the intimate blood splatters he painstakingly took the time to paint with the spilling crimson that was still oozing out of the blond, how the smell of potent scent of bleach had been expertly sucked out the room. All to ensure the scene fit perfectly into the crafted narrative that ran through his brain for few hours.
Sure, it was a beautiful sight, and you finding him here like this would be a splendid bonus to his story.
Should he let you see his masterpiece?
Should he let you see all the hard work he did for you?
How would he do anything for your happiness?
That he would do anything to end your misery?
No, no, no, he couldn't let you be subjected to this gruesome sight.
Your beautiful eyes did not deserve to be corrupted by it. Even if it was all for you. He had figured it would be at least a day before anyone would venture up to the luxury penthouse in search of his being. A worried co-worker or a maid. But for you to be the one to find him like this? That would never do.
He will just need to be with you. Shielding you from his art as best as he could without raising suspicion. It was unfortunate you wouldn't be able to see all the hard work he put into freeing you.
At least the body would be cold the next time he saw it.
——
The air was so crisp on this bleak morning. The mint in your mouth doing somersaults must have been infinitely jealous of the refreshing chill that the cold brought you. Winter was finally in full swing. It made you sad that you had to break the perfect sheet of freshly fallen snow below you, but at least you weren't absolutely plowing it down like the man next to you.
"I still can't believe Bakugou isn't feeling well. I don't even remember a time when he was sick," Kirishima quipped, reminiscing over the rare times when his fiery flaxen friend had been under the weather before, "he didn't even get sick when a plague would break out in the dorms. Whatever got him today must be pretty bad then."
"I know," you agreed as you flipped your mint to the other side of your mouth, "it was so weird to hear him like that. Not to mention how sweet he was this morning."
You practically shivered at the memory of his declaration of love...it had been so long since you heard those words.
Diligent ruby eyes did not miss the slight furrow in your brow, "Things still haven't gotten better, huh?
"No," you sighed, "no, they haven't."
A soft hum left the male as he turned his attention to the falling flakes of white. It was better for him not to comment too much on your relationship with his best friend.
"I just don't understand why it caused such a fight— I mean, I do, I do, know why it did — I just didn't think it would turn into this."
Pausing, you peered upwards towards the mountain next to you. It annoyed you to no end that Kirishima was silent on this matter.
For any other kind of issue, you endlessly vent over it and beg him to blubber some advice on how to do it, and he would be happy to oblige. But you knew that asking for advice on how to handle the blond wasn't fair to Kirishima, and you had done your best not to vent to him too much. It wasn't right to vent to him about his best friend, even if his best friend was being an ass.
You needed to learn how to handle an angry Bakugou on your own, and unfortunately, your first fight with him proved to be more troubling than you anticipated as it somehow spiraled into addressing other issues in your relationship.
"I guess it's what I get from trying to steal a workaholic away from his work out of the blue," your lips jutting up, already replaying his morning affection again, "He's just so stubborn sometimes. I hope this morning proved to be a sign that he's finally starting to get over it."
"You knew that he was stubborn when you said yes to dating him," Kirishima cracked, "you also know that he isn't a fan of surprises."
Rolling your eyes, you simpered, "Stating the obvious, I see. Although, you have to admit that almost three months of fighting over forcing him to take a break is overkill."
Letting out a chuckle, a pointy elbow jabbed you, "I'm sure Bakubro knows you were only trying to do somethin' nice for 'im. If anything, I think he's actually embarrassed right now for blowing this out of proportion for the last few weeks and doesn't know how to apologize for it."
Blinking, your heart felt at ease for the first time in a while. For Kirishima to finally say something about this matter means that Katsuki finally let the floodgates open to the male about his perspective on the, in your opinion, trivial fight that he made into a full blown war.
A large calloused hand gave a pat to your head, before resting it there, "You have nothing to worry about, (Y/N). He's getting there, and by the sounds of this morning, he might be there already."
"Yeah...you're right Kiri," You whispered, tears collecting in your eyes.
Something that brought you uneasiness now was making you hopeful, excited even. That little romantic gesture this morning wasn't just a part of his sickness delirium. It was the first step towards —
"Kirishima, (L/N)!"
Blinking, you turned your attention to the sky, where you saw a bolt of green lightning flash in the air. Midoriya, in true Midoriya fashion, rambled out of the status of a villain attack in the province next to yours that needed assistance.
Well, looks like that is the end of your peaceful morning.
—
"I'm telling you, hot cider is the best drink on a cold day," you asserted, sipping the drink in your hand, "and the smell fills the house for hours."
Bright rubies crinkled, "You mean to tell me you like that liquid grandma scent?"
Gasping, you immediately sent a harsh shove into the mountain of a man, "It's not a grandma scent!!"
"Oh, it totally is." Kirishima jeered as a laugh escaped him.
"It's alright (Y/N), it's not your fault you were born an old soul." Midoriya chimed in, taking a sip of his drink.
Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a sigh, "Yeah, well, whatever. At least our shifts are finally over."
Taking your phone out, you were hoping that Katuski would have at least sent you an update or something during your shift, but no dice. You suppose you couldn't blame him too much, though. He did sound horrible this morning.
"Heading over to Bakugou's?" Kirishima asked, taking a sip of his coffee.
Putting your disappointment to the side, you sent Katsuki a brief message giving him an ETA, "Yeah, I think after I stop at the agency, I'm going to go to the store on the way and pick up some ingredients to make curry for him. Hopefully, that will help him feel better."
"Huh? Is Kacchan not feeling well?" Midoriya questioned, interest piqued.
Nodding, you threw your now empty cup into a bin next to you, "He sounded horrible on the phone earlier today. I'm just hoping he gives himself proper time to recover."
"Strange, Bakugou is rarely sick," chewing on his cheek, Midoriya came to a stop, "I haven't heard of anything going around either."
"He must be patient zero or something," you shrugged off, putting your phone away, "or he finally overworked himself."
"Do you think you will need some help with the groceries?" Asked Midoryia, who was more than happy to offer his services. You guessed that hero mode was something that never turned off in the guy.
"Not to be mean, Midoriya, but I don't think a sick Katsuki would be exactly happy seeing you right now." You played off the sweet offer as best as possible as the three of you entered your shared agency, embracing its warmth.
Then the thumping weight of Kirishima's arm hit your shoulders, "I could help you if you want, (L/N). I'm sure Bakubro wouldn't mind having me over!"
Tilting your head in thought, you weighed the pros and cons of having Kirishima come with you.
Pros: You would have someone there who could not only lessen potential awkwardness, but also could act as a mediator if Bakugou was truly being unreasonable.
Cons: You wouldn't have alone time with Bakugou and thus not be able to make much progress on the matter of your relationship as Bakugou would clam up with his friend in the room.
"Oh, and I can help you cook! I know neither one of us are the best, but together, I'm sure we could get it done!"
Cringing, you bit your lip as your cheeks became flaming volcanic plains of embarrassment.
It was true that you were a horrendous cook, with only two dishes and rice being the only things you could make that were reasonably edible. And curry was one of the dishes Bakugou was helping you learn to cook before everything went downhill. Maybe making curry isn't the best idea, even if it was one of the blond's favorite dishes.
Defeated, you supposed that two heads would be better than one of the matter, "Yeah, that would be helpful Kirishima, I really appreciate it."
"Do you want his mom's curry recipe (L/N)? I'm sure that would make him feel better, having a taste of home and all. I'm more than happy to send it to you." Midoriya chimed in with a merry grin.
"You have her recipe?" You asked, rushing to the freckled man's side.
A nervous chortle left him as he unveiled his phone, "Yeah, my mom got it from her a long time ago when we were kids, and then she gave it to me when we moved to UA."
Bringing his phone to life and with a few taps, Midoriya presented you with the infamous recipe. Snatching the phone out of his hand with little care, you furiously read through the instructions and ingredients, only to be hit with a wave of shame the further you read.
Toast seasonings? Grind? Deglaze? Fold? Reduce? Bake? Blend? Dice and mince?
"Umm Kiri, how does this look to you?" Nervously, you passed the phone over to the other male in the group, whose star winning smile melted into nothingness.
"So you don't know enough either, huh?"
"I know what to do about the searing part for sure! But as for the other things," Kirishima laughed pitifully as he handed the phone back to its proper owner, "I got no shot."
Groaning, you practically buckled over, "Well, it was a good idea at least."
Once again, Midoriya offered his services, "I could help you make it, I've made it a lot."
Sighing, you stood straight again, stretching your body as you did as you thought about his new offer. It would be nice if Bakugou could get a taste of home, plus with Midoriya there, the chances of catching his beloved kitchen on fire drop dramatically.
"I guess you can come, but as soon as we are done cooking, you need to head out, alright?"
"No problem! Whatever is best for Kacchan!"
—
Practically bursting through the door the cavalry of you, Kirishima, and Midoriya entered the refined home of Bakugou Katsuki.
"Katsuki, I'm here!" You greeted loudly over the rustling bags in your hands as you pulled your key out of the door handle, shutting it behind you. Toeing your shoes off like all the others, you walked deeper into the penthouse, dishing the bags onto the kitchen island.
"Katsuki?" You echoed yourself, stopping to wash your hands.
"Huh, he must really be out." Midoriya commented, following your motions with a mountainous redhead following closely behind him.
"He must be super sick then; dude's always been kinda of a light sleeper." Kirishima added as he preferred to shake his hands dry than take the offered towel.
Pouting, you rounded the corner, exiting the kitchen, and started your way down the main hallway towards the sleeping sick bear's room.
"Hey, (L/N)!"
Turning on your heel, out popped Midoriya's face from around the corner, "Do you know where Kacchan keeps all of his appliances? I can't seem to find the blender."
"Oh yeah, I can help you in a second. I just want to let Katsuki know that we are here at least so we don't accidentally get blown up or anything." Returning to the task at hand, you pivoted once more, traveling closer to the desired door.
Heavy footsteps followed after you, "Are you sure? Maybe it would be good for the food to be ready when he does wake up. We should let him rest as much as possible, right, and if-"
"Midoriya, you're mumbling again, and I think I know what my boyfriend would want us to do in this situation better than you do." Your hand coming to rest on the handle of the closed door.
"Sorry, sorry, force of habit. I just..."
"Fuck, this a force of habit. I've treated her like shit for so long."
"Just what?" You asked, your eyes narrowing and, for some reason, annoyance growing in you.
"I can't be with her if I'm just going to ruin her. It's not fair."
"I just think that letting him sleep for now would be better for him, that's all."
"I love her so much, but I just keep hurting her. Fuck, why am I hurting her?"
"Well, luckily, there will be no harm in waking sleeping beauty just for a minute." Your hand turning the handle of the doorknob, releasing the lock.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
Shattering glass from the kitchen stops you in your tracks, "God damn it, you've got to be kidding me."
Abandoning the cracked open door, you hustled back to the kitchen to see exactly what had broken in the kitchen, praying that it wasn't anything too expensive.
Bent over, a ruffled Kirishima was in the midst of picking up the large pieces of a broken dish, "Hey, sorry (L/N), I kinda messed up and put the mixing bowl too close to the edge of the counter and knocked it off."
Sighing, you joined the male on the ground, picking up a large piece yourself, inspecting it.
"Thankfully, this isn't one of his expensive bowls. There is a broom in the side closet if you want to grab that. Maybe hold off until Midoriya and I get back, yeah?"
Leaving Kirishima to his devices, you lapped back down the hallway only to see that Midoriya had disappeared into Bakugou's room based on the bright light now leaking into the hallway. For a man who was so admittant about not going inside, he sure had no problem letting himself in now.
Stepping into the doorway, you began to chastity your opposer who stood just in front of you, "What happened to-"
"(Y/N). Go get Kirishima, now."
His voice was so cold. Colder than outside. Colder than a blizzard.
Taken back, you froze, "Midoriya?"
"Just go get Kirishima, (Y/N)...you don't need to see this."
"I...I don't need to see what?" You hesitantly asked, placing your hand on his back. He was so tense.
"Kirishima, now."
Retreating, you rushed to the kitchen to collect the male that was being requested. You could tell from the gasp that left Kirishima that whatever he was seeing over Midoriya's shoulder was one that was not meant for the eyes of many. Water was quick to invade his usually cheerful reds.
"W-What the fuck..." Was all he was able to manage before he stormed through Midoriya.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
Following the towering man, you entered the room through the hole of Midoriya defense he had just made. Quickly, your throat closed up at the sight.
"S-Suki." Your body somehow croaked out as you approached closer to the usually white and pristine bed.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
His sun kissed golden hair was soiled with a dark red elixir that should not be there. And it seemed that elixir couldn't help itself from spreading into a haloing puddle beneath his head. Once bright and fiery eyes were now wide and dull. His body twisted and turned in the crumpled, damaged bedding. But what was the worst was the handle of the knife that was still lodged in his temple.
You couldn't help the inhuman screech that left your body. Your body propelling itself forward in hopes of touching him, in hopes of finding this all was a joke, only to be stopped by a guard rail of an arm.
"Y-You can't touch him (Y/N)." Midoriya squeaked through a taut throat, "You can't."
Clawing at that vile arm, you screamed, "LET ME GO! LET ME THE FUCK GO!!! KATSUKI!!"
"It's a crime scene (Y/N)! You can't! I wish you could, but you can't - you just can't!"
"IT'S NOT A CRIME SCENE!!! H-HE— HE WOULDN'T LET- HE WOULDN'T— JESUS CHRIST JUST LET ME GO!!!"
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
It was easy to say that you were deranged with grief and that your sole focus was to coddle the dead body of your lover. That you would do anything to get to him. But right now. You couldn't. You couldn't possibly get to him. Not while this was a crime scene. The crime scene of a pro hero at that.
With a sputtering lip, Kirishima bit back his wails as best as he could as he took your face into his hands and stood before you, blocking the gruesome scene from you.
"Hey, h-hey, hey..." He cooed in a wavering voice.
By the gods, give him the strength to be manly in this situation and not turn into a sobbing puddle on the floor.
"Hey, (Y/N), I-I need you to look at me, look at me, o-okay? P-please?" He sniffled, forcing your head to stop trying to look over his shoulder, "Please just look at me."
"K-Kiri, what the fuck is happening? K-Kiri, you — it's not real right."
Licking his lips, Kirishima took a deep breath, closing his eyes and centering himself as best as he could, "We are going to call the p-police okay?"
"You can't-"
"We have to (Y/N)," A teary eyed Midoriya finalized. He hated the role he was stepping into but no one else could do it. Someone had to be the rational one. "I can do it, g-go to the living room with Kirishima. I...I'm sure they will let you touch him once they are done here, alright?"
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
That threw you deeper into the pit of your hysterics, but Kirishima somehow found the strength within him to remove you from the deadly room.
—
"And Miss (L/N), can you describe what happened when you entered that room that night?"
Clearing your throat, you recalled the events from that night just as the lawyer taught you to do. How they trained you.
"And would you say that Mr. Midoriya was unemotional to the sight of the scene?"
"Yes."
"Almost like he had seen it before?"
"Yes."
"What did you find most offensive about Mr. Midoriya's behavior when you reflect on that night?"
Your hands fiddled in your lap as you answered, "That he didn't scream at the sight of his childhood best friend's body and...how collected he was over everything. I never thought I would see him act that way when seeing Katsuki hurt. Usually, he would turn psychotic to protect him, but he didn't act that way that day. He was almost numb to it all."
"Do you think Mr. Midoriya had an ulterior motive when he persistently asked you if he could come with you to what would be the scene of the crime that day?"
"Yes."
"And what do you think that motive was?"
"I...I think he wanted to return to see if he had actually done it. If he had successfully killed Katsuki."
"Why was it important for Mr. Bakugou to be dead for Mr. Midoriya?"
"Well, Mr. Midoriya had finally achieved being the number one hero, something he and Katsuki always had a rivalry over. I suppose that he didn't want anyone else taking it from him once he finally got that number one spot."
"And with Mr. Bakugou set as number two, that threat was reasonable, was it not?"
"I would say so, yes."
"Do you think Mr. Midoriya saw Mr. Bakugou as a large enough threat that he needed to murder him?"
You flinched at that word.
You despised that word being linked to Bakugou. That was his fate.
That murder was your lover's fate. Somehow, you found the courage to look up from your overly picked nail polish and stare at the accused.
At the sweet Midoriya, who this whole time has had a torn face over the events that preceded that night. The questioning, the investigation. Bakugou's homicide was as if a ghost committed it.
There was virtually no evidence other than signs of a struggle in the form of a hairline slash that ran down Bakugou's right forearm and disorderly bed he was found in. It was a shock when the news hit that Midoriya had been arrested for the murder and even more shocking when lawyers rolled up to your depression den of an apartment asking you to be a witness.
What else were you supposed to do?
These investigators were the best that the Hero Commission could offer. The elite of the elite. Ones whose quirks and deduction skills could not be bested. And if their findings lead you to this conclusion, who were you to question it?
No matter how deep in your soul you wanted to deny it, you had to accept it in hopes that Bakugou and your soul could be put to rest. That's all you wanted. That's what you yearned for now. Rest. Rest for you both. To close this horrid chapter of your life.
Your heart could break no longer. But if it could, despite everything, you know it would have broken for Midoriya when you agreed with the prosecutor.
In a matter of weeks, it was strange to see quirk-canceling cuffs strapped onto those scarred hands and be escorted out of the courtroom to live the rest of his life in a jumpsuit of orange.
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
"It's over now." Kirishima breathed as he hugged you in a deadly grip, in which you returned wanting to shield the world from your tears.
"Yeah, it is." You whimpered into his chest, "Do you think he can rest now?"
"I'm sure of it."
—
You came to find yourself liking summers the most, forgetting the days when you once had a fondness for winter. It was the best time to do anything and was always so full of life. You could now see why it was once Bakugou's favorite season.
"What do you think of these ones, Eijirou?" Holding up a bouquet of a summery arrangement, you asked your attentive boyfriend for his opinion, "Do you think that Suki would like these ones the most?"
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
There was a kiss placed on your temple, "I think he would love anything you picked out for him."
Twirling the bouquet in your hand, you gently thumbed the fragile petals, "But this is a really important day...it's been three years now. I just want to make sure this one is special compared to the others we give him during the year."
Reaching towards the back, Kirishima pulled out a hidden bouquet, "What about this one?"
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, [ ]?"
"White chrysanthemum?" You smiled, pulling the bouquet closer to you and taking a whiff, "Yeah, I think these are perfect, Ei."
"Jesus Christ, what the fuck do I do, Eijirou?"
Kirishima couldn't stop his toothy grin at hearing your nickname for him.
It certainly was better than Suki.
Sure, did his plan go exactly how he envisioned it -- no it went haywire. But he still got what he wanted. And that's all that matters.
He got you.
"Don't worry, Katsuki. I know exactly what to do. I'll be over soon, alright?"