The Pages Are Worn, Smudged With Dirt And The Faintest Traces Of Dried Blood. Katsuki’s Hands Shake

the pages are worn, smudged with dirt and the faintest traces of dried blood. katsuki’s hands shake as he flips through your diary, the one they found in the rubble, tucked away in the remains of your dorm. it’s stupid, really. stupid that he’s doing this now, when it’s too late. when you’re already gone.

he sees his name written more times than he can count. and at first, it pisses him off. pisses him off because you were supposed to tell him. you were supposed to be here.

he reads.

“first day at ua! there’s this really loud, really annoying guy in my class. bakugo. he’s cute as hell for someone so rude.”

his breath catches. his fingers tighten around the worn edges of the pages as he keeps going.

“he’s amazing. the way he moves, the way he fights—he’s going to be number one, i know it.”

“i think i might like him.”

and then it gets worse. because it’s all there. every thought, every little moment he never noticed, or maybe he did and just never let himself think too hard about it. the way you admired him, the way you saw him for more than just his explosions and his anger.

“i know he’d never feel the same. katsuki bakugo doesn’t fall for people like me.”

his vision blurs.

you idiot. you fucking idiot.

because he did. he did feel the same.

but now, he’ll never get the chance to tell you.