ahahahaa im sorry. who's ready for an ouch krbk thread?
here we go!!!
//

Bakugou Katsuki wakes up in the morning, ready to get on the plane to ride out of the lives of everyone that he knows.

America hadn't been where he intended on going – but when someone calls for a hero, and he's the only one that can make it work, he's not sure what else he's supposed to do. He has to go. He has to.

He looks down, at his hands, at the covers laying over his legs, and regrets the night before.

The night had been straight out of dream, something he thought would never happen. It's not as though he hadn't /thought/ about it happening, but had never thought that it might be true. He had never thought it was something that he could actually have. Never.

But he had gotten it. He had laid there, the night before, surrounded by warmth, surrounded by... surrounded by words he can't even bring himself to think. Surrounded by... by...

It can't be real. There's no way that it can be. He checks again, but it appears to be real.

A quirk, maybe. A hallucination. A dream. Anything besides the idea that this is actually real, he's woken up like this, on the day he is to leave the country, with coming back not in the foreseeable future.

He can't have this. He can't. He's known that for a long time. The word love is not in Bakugou Katsuki's vocabulary. Even if he wants it to be.

This is exactly what it looks like – it's a lonely night, it's an idea that swirls on the horizon, a couple words whispered that can't be real. It's a drink or two and some hands that won't stay to themselves.

It's the thought of being together, or maybe just the thought of not being so alone. It's certainly not because he's spent the last eight years looking at those hands and wishing he could hold them.

He doesn't do that. He doesn't love people. He doesn't know how.

It wouldn't matter even if he could. He knows how that would end. He knows that he would wake up, like this, under the covers, warm and perfect, but he can't keep it.

He knows that they would leave. They would get annoyed – frustrated – angry – they wouldn't /want/ to stay. He's a problem, a bother. He's angry, annoyed, he's the /worst./

And he's never tried to change that. It's his own problem, it's something he's had to come to terms with. There's a day somewhere in the future where he's better, he's someone that people want to spend time around.

That's not now. And that's something that he lives with every day.

He looks down again. The covers move softly, shifting with the breath of someone who isn't Katsuki. He can't bare to look.

He pushes himself out of the bed. The thought of not being so alone pricks at the edge of his brain. But he can't have that. He can't stay. He said that he'd go.

And besides – it's not like it would last. Katsuki could try, he could push his mind to the limits of himself, hold hands, try to be something that he's not. But he wouldn't be able to do that. That's not who he is.

He's going to ride the plane out of this life. He can't have anything that exists here.

The body in the bed doesn't shift as he stands, as he puts on clothes. Katsuki spends longer than he'd care to admit thinking of the presses of kisses, the head upon his chest. Katsuki's not right for this. He's not.

If morning had never come, he might have lived in those moments for the rest of his life. He might have held those hands, felt that skin, tasted that breath. For the rest of his life, trapped within the night.

But morning /had/ come, with Katsuki intact. He had thought waking up might tear him apart, but the sun over the horizon proves him wrong. He's here. He's leaving, and he's here.

The body in the bed twitches in sleep. The morning has come for Katsuki, but the dreams in the bed are still sweet, still warm and soft, like the night before. Katsuki can be someone desirable in dreams.

But only in dreams.

Every waking breath, looking at the curves of that face, Katsuki knows that it wouldn't work out. He would never be able to have what he wants.

So he closes his eyes, pushes away the confession that might force its way past his lips. He can't have that. He's alone, and he will be for the rest of forever. And that's okay. That's something that he's come to terms with. +

+Something that he can be okay with, because it's part of who he's been for his entire life. He's not somebody that people want to spend their life with. And that's... okay.

It's not like he's in love.

He pulls on pants, hoping that the body in the bed will stay intact. That he'll know it's not his fault – it's just Katsuki. He's the one that needs to leave, he's the one that wouldn't be able to do the things that he'd be expected to do here.

Katsuki simply just isn't built for this.

So he shoves the clothes into his bag, zips it up, and hoists it to his shoulder. He's going, and he's not coming back. There's a phrase that wants to cut through his lips, but the person in the bed isn't awake to hear it.

So he leaves a short note on the counter, and he leaves.

He doesn't want to leave, but he knows he doesn't belong in this space. So he gets in a cab and he heads for the airport, bag in his lap, rocks in his heart. He doesn't deserve to stay. He has to continue to remind himself of that. It's not something he can have.

But the world proves to be unfair yet again, not only can he taste something he can't have, it's going to force itself to be too close, to be something he should be able to grab onto.

So as he's climbing out of the cab, his phone rings.

The screen tells him it's a call he doesn't want to have, but he picks it up anyways, as he wrestles his bag from the seat. "Hello?"

"Katsuki?"

"Eijirou."

"Where did you go?" Eijirou asks. His voice sounds rough, scratched by sleep, marred by the dreams that don't mirror reality. Katsuki feels a little like he can't breathe, but he keeps going. He always keep going.

"I have a flight," he says, voice cold, holding none of the emotions he wants to be conveying. Nothing like what he's actually feeling. Nothing like the night before. "Lock the door behind yourself. The landlord won't mind."

"I wanted to talk to you," Eijirou murmurs into the other line, and Katsuki feels it straight down to his core. He swallows on a suddenly very dry throat.

"The morning came," he says. "I left. That's what I'm supposed to do. Leave."

"But I had things to say," Eijirou insists, but Katsuki can't allow it. He knows. He knows the things that are in Eijirou's head - or at least he knows what he thinks. It's not anything that's real. It's not something Katsuki can have.

He'd do anything. Anything for Eijirou. But the morning has come, and they've woken up from silly, blissful dreams. This is the real world, this is the place where Katsuki can't have this.

So he swallows the bile rising in his throat, the pain swelling in his chest, and he says, "No, it can't happen. I can't do that. It's not something that... that I can do."

Ejiirou isn't having this. He blurts, "But Katsuki-"

/But Katsuki/ isn't having it. He hangs up. It's too much. It's more than he can handle, more than he can have. So he shoves his phone in his pocket - despite the fact that it's ringing again - and he ignores it.

His phone doesn't stop ringing, not through baggage check, security, each escalator. Not down the moving walkways, past every window, to his gate.

It stops ringing as he sits down to wait for his flight.

/And that's it,/ he tells himself. /That's the extent of it, pressed within one night, even though there's enough of it to last a lifetime. He's not in love. He doesn't know what love feels like, how can he be in love?

Just because it hurts more than any injury he's ever experienced, just because it's more painful than any gash, burn, or break he's ever had. Just because every time he's almost gushed his feelings lingers on his tongue, the taste bitter now, that doesn't mean he's in love.

So he puts walls around it, dons a construction hat and builds a concrete cage. Something that won't come down. Something designed to last., something to trap it in, never to see the light of day again.

That is, well, until a hand comes down on his shoulder.

He hears the panting before he even looks up, before he lifts his hands, ready for the worst. Maybe it's his goddamn mother, or somebody from high school. Or worse, a villain. Or, the worst...

"Hey," Eijriou says. "Katsuki."

Katsuki wants to get up and run. There isn't anywhere to go. So instead he turns, he lifts his face to see Eijirou's, flushed and panting. It sends a spike through Katsuki's heart.

It's quiet for a moment as Eijirou tries to catch his breath. He's obviously been running. He doesn't have anything on him, no bag, no jacket, just his clothes. His hair is limp and laying on his shoulders. He hasn't even put it up.

"What are you-" Katsuki starts, but he stops himself. He takes a deep breath. This is no good. This is all bad. He needs to get out of here, but there's still fifteen minutes until the flight boards. Fifteen minutes before he flies away forever.

So instead he asks something different. He musters the nerve to speak at all and chokes out, "How'd you get past security."

Eijirou chuckles, shoving his hand into his pocket. He produces a crumpled piece of paper. "I just bought a ticket. Anything to get me to the gate."

Katsuki knows where this goes. He knows it doesn't work the way it does in the movies. He's Bakugou Katsuki, and people don't run through the airport for him. Or they /shouldn't./ Eijirou /shouldn't/ have done this.

"You didn't have to do that," he whispers, eyes on the paper.

"I know I didn't have to."

"You shouldn't have."

"I wanted to."

"You shouldn't have wanted to, either."

Eijirou takes a deep breath, and lets it out. Katsuki feels like a ticking time bomb - he wants to, no, he needs to stop this before it can happen. But his mouth is stuck shut, glued by the memories of the night before, all of the things he knows to be true piled on top.

Even if this goes the best way that it can - Katsuki will annoy him every day. Each day, with his words, his face, his attitude. And one day, Eijirou would decide to wake up, and he would leave. So no, Katsuki can't let this happen.

But maybe it's morbid curiosity, or the pain that's splitting his chest apart at the idea of being able to even imagine it, hands curled together, someone that would run through the airport. Someone that would blow all that money on a stupid ticket just to come here. For /him./

Whatever it is, it sews his mouth shuts, and he stands there and waits for whatever Eijirou has to say.

"I can't lose you," Eijirou says, and Katsuki bites down on his tongue. "Look at me," Eijirou says, pulling Katsuki to face him, so they're standing there, face to face, Eijirou's hands gripping too tight into his shoulders. "I /can't/ lose you. I won't. I don't want you to go."

Katsuki wants to stay. He does. But he can't. He's committed to leaving, he's signed up, he's going to go. But maybe that's just an excuse, really, he /can't/ have this. He can't love, he doesn't know how, he can't be taught. He's an old dog, and it's a new trick.

"I have to go," he says. "It's something I have to do."

"I know," Eijirou murmurs, his fingers digging into Katsuki's skin, eyes digging into Katsuki's face. "And that's just part of what I love about you."

The pain twists down into his chest, threatens to tear him into pieces. "You don't love me," Katsuki says to him, no matter how badly it hurts. "You /can't/ love me. I'm /me/ and that's how it is. It's whatever. It's fine. I'm fine. I'm going to America. Just let me go."

Eijirou doesn't let him go. His fingers stay tight around Katsuki's shoulders. "I don't want to let you go," he whispers.

This feels like a scene, like people are staring, but for a moment all Katsuki can see is Eijirou's eyes.

All he can see is that red focused on him, the shit swimming behind it. All hot cocoa and warm cookies, all fireplaces and soft blankets, all fireworks and shit he's not allowed to have. Things he's convinced himself can't be real for him.

All love and love and /love./

Katsuki's world shifts, and Eijirou doesn't speak. He just stands there and lets Katsuki adjust, everything he's every believed to be true breaking apart, the unbreakable fortification of Eijirou's quirk smashing through the concrete cage he's built.

He can't move, he doesn't know how to breathe, but despite the fear of asphyxiation, he forces words past his lips. He forces out the only words that he can make sense of at this moment.

"Come with me."

And Eijirou smiles, easy, like it's never been as hard as Katsuki has made it. Like there isn't a chance he'd ever wake up and want something different, like he'll upend his entire life just for this, just for the heart that beats between the shoulders that he's still holding.

And with that easy, beautiful smile, he says, "Okay," and Katsuki's world doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know how to be in love. But still, he's pretty sure that he is, despite everything.

"My flight is going to leave," Katsuki says, looking over his shoulder. He's afraid that when he looks back Eijirou will be gone, that he's just a hallucination. But he's still there as Katsuki's eyes come back. The smiling redhead holds up the ticket.

"I guess the first one I thought of buying was the same one you were on," he admits, and his face is brighter than any explosion Katsuki has ever produced.

"You idiot. You don't have anything. No bag, or clothes, or..." he trails off. Eijirou just grins wider.

"You're not getting rid of me," Eijirou says, and Katsuki can feel his chest seize up. "Not ever again."

"And besides," Eijirou continues, stepping closer, moving hands up shoulders, to wrap carefully around Katsuki's neck. "I have my phone, and my wallet, and you. I've got everything I need. I've got the whole world."

"Idiot," Katsuki tells him, but he steps in and kisses him again. "Sappy, stupid, ridiculous-"

"Oh, hush."

Katsuki glares, it's all he's ever known how to do, but Eijirous doesn't get scared away. He never has.

"I love you, you idiot," Katsuki says.

And Eijirou grins, just like the idiot he is, and he says, "I've always loved you."

And Katsuki pulls him back in, wanting to taste those words in his mouth. The morning has come, but he's still here, neither of them are going to wake up from this dream.

This is it, the press of every kiss, standing in an airport terminal, this is the terminal illness Katsuki will die of. Eijirou is the end of him, and the beginning, and the middle too.

And maybe Katsuki doesn't know what love is, but he knows Eijirou. He knows what it is to be known, and to know. He knows what it is to ache, to warm, to be warmed. And the rest of it, he can let Eijirou to teach him.

//end

im so sorry ive been stuck on angst recently lksdjflksjd
thank you for reading!!!! :))

the two songs that inspired this thread lskdjflksjd