Chapter 23

A maybe 13-year-old version of Deku in a middle school uniform was standing in front of me, a gun in his dainty, unscathed hands.

He looked at it as if he'd never seen one in his life. The glimmering metal reflected in his bright green eyes. Then he aimed it at me with an innocent grin. I couldn't move at all. Deku pulled the trigger and I could see the bullet fly millimeters past me in slow motion.

I turned around and saw the bullet hit the white wall behind me, which suddenly transformed into a mirror. The cracked reflection of Deku was his present version, greeting me with a disdainful smirk. I churned around, but there was just the young Deku playing with the gun.

With a curious look in his eyes, he lifted it and pressed the barrel up against his forehead. I wanted to scream, plead, take the gun away, make him stop anyhow, but I couldn't move. Deku pulled the trigger again and I had to watch. I had to watch him shoot himself.

Slowly, Dekus limp body sank to the ground, blood spilling out of his head everywhere. It came out of his nose, out of his ears, out of his mouth and even out of his eyes, the bloody tears staining his pale face. Then his dead remains hit the floor.

The gun never reached the ground. Once I lifted my eyes from Dekus corpse, I found the present Deku grinning at me, the smoking gun in his hands. Then he slowly dropped it. Too slowly. The further it fell, the slower it got, until it stopped in the movement, just centimeters over the bloodied ground.

Deku lifted his left hand, his fingers mimicking a gun. "Bang."

I heard glass shattering, then everything became black.

-/-

I woke up screaming. Literally screaming.

The pictures of my nightmare were already leaving my head, but the feeling of terror and utter desperation wouldn't fade. I buried my face in my hands, tugging at the roots of my hair. My palms were dampening.

I wiped my eyes with my blanket, then I got up and opened the curtains. The sky outside was cloudy and grey. I couldn't guess what time it was. The alarm clock on my bedside table said 9.30 am. I went to shower, only a strange tension throughout my body keeping me from breaking down.

Whatever I had dreamt, it was wrecking me mentally. It was frustrating how I couldn't even remember it.

I just kept going about my day, my dream bugging the back of my head the whole time. I couldn't seem to concentrate on anything. The whole time I was tapping my fingers on every surface available, murmuring random things and trying my hardest to remember what the fuck my dream had shown me to upset me this much.

Around lunchtime, Mr. Culprit showed up out of the blue. "Hi, Kacchan. What's up?"

I churned around to see Deku smiling at me contemptuously. And I dropped the glass I was holding. At the sound of glass shattering, the memories of my nightmare returned, hitting me like a fucking train.

The gun.

Deku.

The mirror.

Deku.

The suicide.

Deku.

I stumbled back against the counter, breathing heavily. My mind couldn't decide whether Deku was the villainous threat or the victim in need of help. My thoughts were running in circles like a toy train and my level of adrenaline shot through the ceiling. It felt like I was suffocating.

"Kacchan?" Deku dropped his head to the side, genuine, innocent confusion on his face. "What's going on with you? I know I'm frightening, but you don't need to panic. I'm not gonna kill you just yet." The victim. He was the victim. And I was the threat. The threat needed to be removed. But how the fuck do you remove the threat when it lives inside of you?

I jolted forwards and wrapped my arms around Deku tightly. He almost choked. "Whoa, slow it down. I didn't know you missed me that much." My only answer was nuzzling my face deep into the crook of his neck. Deku dropped his arms and lightly patted my back. "So… What happened?"

I pulled him even closer to me. "Don't ask. Don't talk. And don't fucking leave." Dekus voice was cocky when he answered. "And who are you to tell me what to do?" "Please. Just shut up." "Guess I can't refuse if you ask me that nicely." His words were dripping with sarcasm, but he actually shut his gob afterwards.

About a minute later, Deku forcefully pushed me away from him. "Right, my need for physical contact is oversaturated for today." I just nodded lightly and went to get a broom. Then I cleaned my traumatizing mess up. Deku watched me with a strange expression.

Once I was done, I slopped down against the fridge, wrapping my arms around my knees and dropping my head onto it. Deku furrowed his eyebrows. "Alright, Kacchan, what's the matter?" I averted my eyes from his. "Had a nightmare about you killing yourself." More than literally.

Deku hopped off the kitchen table and squatted in front of me. "And that affects you this much? I thought you were the great, invincible, emotionally aloof Katsuki fucking Bakugou. And here you are, sulking like a damn crybaby." I really wanted to hit him with a fucking chair, but at the same time, I just wanted to hug him to death.

He lifted my chin up and stared down into my eyes with a slightly arrogant expression. "Do you maybe want to tell me something?" "Huh?" "Sheesh, you're so dense. But okay, keep beating yourself up over something that's only part of a bigger image." Deku smirked disdainfully.

Then he patted my head lightly, stood up, pulled his knife out and started playing with it. He hummed the creepy lullaby from the other day to the flicking noises and it sent shivers down my back.

What was this little shit doing to me?