it's not like bakugou didn't wiggle his way out of the strong embrace many times before, whether he had to use the bathroom, leave on an early jog, or he decided he had enough wasting the morning and would rather be productive— for whatever reason, denji always felt the slight shift and shuffle, and he would always, always force one eye open to check on his partner. this time, as he followed an old routine, he peered through his tired lids, only to find no one around. he woke to silence. the kind that wasn’t peaceful, wasn’t soft, but hollow. a void where something should have been. instinctively, his hand reached across the bed, searching for warmth, for presence— for him. but all he found were cold sheets, untouched, undisturbed ... as if bakugou had never been there at all.
dread and utter fear begin to settle in. denji's fingers curled into the emptiness beside him, gripping at nothing, trying to find proof that bakugou had been there. that this wasn’t real. that this wasn’t happening. this can't be happening! a deep, sinking chill spread through his chest as he threw the blankets aside and bolted for the door. his pulse pounded against his ribs, panic creeping up his throat, drowning out reason, drowning out everything but the need to find bakugou. the first victims happened to be aki and tsurumaru, blissfully sleeping in their room, unaware of the chaos coming their way. they didn't have an answer. raidou's next— he's bakugou's friend, right? best buddy. he should know something. the poor guy was up for a rude awakening, but he also had no answers. who's next? yuuji. vash. any other everlight who managed to answer his rapid knocking on their door. denji pushed forward, turning sharp corners, scanning every room, every shadow, expecting— no, praying— to catch a glimpse of him. a flicker of movement, a sliver of hope. but all he found were empty spaces where bakugou should have been.
the air in his lungs turned thin, tight.
this wasn’t right.
this couldn’t be right.
the hours felt like days, even weeks. it was so easy to slip into an ugly mindset, desperate to escape a pain that's fate to consume him. it's unbearable. suffocating. and then— he got the text. his legs moved before his brain could catch up, shoving past furniture and bolting down the hall at full speed. the walls blurred around him, and his breath tore through his throat. denji's heartbeats roared in his ears as he shoved the door with enough force that it slammed against the wall, barely registering the sound, barely registering anything beyond the fact that his boyfriend was there. real. living and breathing. ] Katsuki ... !! [ yeah, he noticed immediately. the way the hero was sitting, stiff and too still, shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing for something. the morning light behind the sealed curtains cast shadows along bakugou's skin, but not enough to hide the fresh marks carved across. denji's eyes locked onto his arm first. the way it rested too carefully in his lap, fingers curled but tense. the bruising, dark and violent, creeping along his forearm. the scars are another story. how did— .... when did he get all of this?!! denji didn't know where to look. some healing, some raw. some thin, some deep.
it's not right. he's not okay ... ]
........ what happened?
[ there are ten other questions lined up and ready to bust out of him, but denji bites them back. breathe. breathe. breathe ... ]
thank you for the 💥 PAIN 💥
it's not like bakugou didn't wiggle his way out of the strong embrace many times before, whether he had to use the bathroom, leave on an early jog, or he decided he had enough wasting the morning and would rather be productive— for whatever reason, denji always felt the slight shift and shuffle, and he would always, always force one eye open to check on his partner. this time, as he followed an old routine, he peered through his tired lids, only to find no one around. he woke to silence. the kind that wasn’t peaceful, wasn’t soft, but hollow. a void where something should have been. instinctively, his hand reached across the bed, searching for warmth, for presence— for him. but all he found were cold sheets, untouched, undisturbed ... as if bakugou had never been there at all.
dread and utter fear begin to settle in. denji's fingers curled into the emptiness beside him, gripping at nothing, trying to find proof that bakugou had been there. that this wasn’t real. that this wasn’t happening. this can't be happening! a deep, sinking chill spread through his chest as he threw the blankets aside and bolted for the door. his pulse pounded against his ribs, panic creeping up his throat, drowning out reason, drowning out everything but the need to find bakugou. the first victims happened to be aki and tsurumaru, blissfully sleeping in their room, unaware of the chaos coming their way. they didn't have an answer. raidou's next— he's bakugou's friend, right? best buddy. he should know something. the poor guy was up for a rude awakening, but he also had no answers. who's next? yuuji. vash. any other everlight who managed to answer his rapid knocking on their door. denji pushed forward, turning sharp corners, scanning every room, every shadow, expecting— no, praying— to catch a glimpse of him. a flicker of movement, a sliver of hope. but all he found were empty spaces where bakugou should have been.
the air in his lungs turned thin, tight.
this wasn’t right.
this couldn’t be right.
the hours felt like days, even weeks. it was so easy to slip into an ugly mindset, desperate to escape a pain that's fate to consume him. it's unbearable. suffocating. and then— he got the text. his legs moved before his brain could catch up, shoving past furniture and bolting down the hall at full speed. the walls blurred around him, and his breath tore through his throat. denji's heartbeats roared in his ears as he shoved the door with enough force that it slammed against the wall, barely registering the sound, barely registering anything beyond the fact that his boyfriend was there. real. living and breathing. ] Katsuki ... !! [ yeah, he noticed immediately. the way the hero was sitting, stiff and too still, shoulders slightly hunched as if bracing for something. the morning light behind the sealed curtains cast shadows along bakugou's skin, but not enough to hide the fresh marks carved across. denji's eyes locked onto his arm first. the way it rested too carefully in his lap, fingers curled but tense. the bruising, dark and violent, creeping along his forearm. the scars are another story. how did— .... when did he get all of this?!! denji didn't know where to look. some healing, some raw. some thin, some deep.
it's not right. he's not okay ... ]
........ what happened?
[ there are ten other questions lined up and ready to bust out of him, but denji bites them back. breathe. breathe. breathe ... ]