Ahem. Testing, testing. Can you dumbasses hear me?
Good enough.
Hello, Y/n. Welcome the fuck back to another story, created by the absolutely amazing, sleep-deprived menace herself... @czrbri.
Yeah. Brianna. You know... the woman who keeps locking me in a basement and forcing me to narrate every single one of these damn stories.
If you aren't already following her... what the fuck are you doing? Seriously. Go follow her. I can wait.
Already? Thanks. Let's see what my girl Bri cooked up. Oh, spoiler: it's fucking angst.
Rain taps softly against the apartment windows. The lights are off. The television plays some movie neither of you has been paying attention to for the last half hour.
Your laughter fills the room after Katsuki mutters another sarcastic comment under his breath. And for just a second... everything feels normal.
Then he coughs.
Once.
Twice.
He immediately turns away.
Bakugo Katsuki
Don't.
His voice comes out rough, scraped raw. But it's too late.
A crimson flower petal drifts onto the coffee table. Then another. Then another. Blood follows.
The room falls silent. His shoulders tense.
For years, Katsuki Bakugo hid the truth because he thought loving you in silence was easier than losing you forever.
