After what had been a long-needed crying session (not that he'd ever admit that) and a few hours to cool down while Eraserhead grabbed something from his apartment and went to pull Deku from the shithole called Aldera Junior High.

He knew that he had just had a breakdown in front of Aizawa of all people, but somehow he felt generally okay with that. If he had been with his parents, his teachers, or his classmates, it would have been miserable. But with the pro hero and the situation they were in, it just didn't matter anymore. He couldn't afford to get embarrassed or worked up about all of this until after the looping ended.

If the looping ended.

But shit, he was getting off track with a train of thought that he would very much rather not explore at the moment, lest he stumble back into another breakdown in time for Deku to arrive and witness it.

Bakugou had the feeling that it wouldn't end well if that did come to pass...

Yet, instead of doing something, anything, productive to keep all of these horrible imagined scenarios from happening, he just found himself lying there in bed, staring at the wall that he vividly remembered the force of one of his explosions launching Deku into, the one that had accidentally snapped his neck with the sheer force and close-range of the unwarranted attack.

The guilt swam in his stomach uncomfortably. It was like piranhas, at some points they would jump out and bite, reminding him that he had done something unforgivable, that he had seen something unforgivable, that he had given into something unforgivable.

Unforgivable, unforgivable, unforgivable.

Bakugou flinched as the door suddenly swung open. He sat up quickly, his heart suddenly racing and experiencing what felt like whole-body whiplash as he realized that it was just his mother and not Aizawa returning with Deku.

Not yet, at least.

"Hey, kiddo. Are you okay?" the old hag was so off-kilter, unsure of herself and cautious in a way that she had never been before.

Bakugou couldn't help but wonder what he had done to make her this concerned. Had she heard him sobbing all the way from downstairs? He hadn't been that loud… had he?

"It's okay if you don't want to talk… but I just wanted to know if, if there was anything I could do to help. This… quirk seems to be a bit much so…"

He couldn't find it in himself to get angry at her for wanting to help, even though on a normal day he would be screaming and insulting her for so much as insinuating some like that. He was just… too tired. Despite the fact that he couldn't feel the anger swelling up inside him, something else reared its ugly head.

A kind of frustration, the kind that makes a person lash out uncontrollably. The kind that is more indicative of being overwhelmed than of any particular emotion. So it just tumbled out of his lips, not exactly against his will, but hardly intentionally.

"I don't need your help," he mustered a tone of cold anger, the kind that he had never felt before, always keen to simply express himself openly and explosively wheneve rhe felt like it, "It's just a stupid quirk. Don't pretend like you can do anything. Don't pretend that you care."

Bakugou immediately regretted it, however, when his mom recoiled as though she were struck, her face stricken and her boy tense. But without any retort or stubborn intervention that she was known to do, she simply backed out of his room with a quiet apology and shut the door with much more care than she had when she initially opened it.

His room was silent once more, leaving him sitting alone on his bed, now staring at the door and feeling miserable all over again.

But worst of all, he felt deserving of it. It was… fitting.

He reluctantly turned his head to stare longingly at his desk, and the paper on it. He should get up and check it over, as it was a list of prompting questions to ask and key details to give Deku to get his stupid, smart brain rolling. Yet it felt like gravity would bring him to his knees if he so much as rolled off the bed. The dread was unbearable, and he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He couldn't really bring himself to do anything.

Hours could have gone by, for all he knew, but more likely it was only minutes. Possibly thirty if he had been particularly spacey. It wasn't as if he could tell, he was too busy trying to stay afloat in his own sea of anxiety.

Bakugou was startled by the sound of a door, only just now noticing how eerily silent it had been prior to the noise. It took a second, but just like that it was like everything snapped back into place, finally allowing him to scramble onto his feet and stumble over to his desk and to the paper.

He only had a few seconds to remind himself of his questions before he heard the distinct sound of footsteps nailing the creaky sections of the stairs. Only one though, which was odd.

Maybe Deku remembered…?

But that didn't really matter as his door—which had felt safe and secure just a few minutes before, yet it now seemed like the flimsy wood it was—swung open.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but Deku bursting into tears on sight certainly wasn't it. Bakugou found himself floundering for what to do, but all he could think about was the way that Aizawa had hugged him just that morning.

Somehow, he thought that Deku really wouldn't appreciate that from him of all people, so he refrained. Besides, Deku was notorious for crying at the drop of a hat, whether happy or sad. This was probably no big deal.

Yet he couldn't get the fear out of his mind. What if Deku remembered the last loop? Was that why…?

But with the way Aizawa was acting—eyeing him tiredly and looking like he'd had too many surprises and unexpected happenings in too short a time, which honestly? Bakugou could relate—it didn't seem likely.

The pro hero had probably already thought to probe Deku to figure it out beforehand, yeah. That would make sense.

So the teen forced himself to relax as Deku's crying quickly died down.

Aizawa dipped out of the room with an excuse, one that Bakugou didn't exactly grasp. If he was being honest, everything was still kind of fuzzy in his head, and that probably wasn't helping anything. But he was struggling a bit too much to comprehend words to ask him to stay. Or rather, he would probably have ended up begging if he tried, so he chose not to.

He had no idea how Deku would react to him being so moody, but it probably wouldn't be good.

Maybe.

Or maybe that was just the residual anxiety and dread talking. He really couldn't be sure.

Despite the unease, when Deku sniffled out a question about what was going on, Bakugou had to get his shit together and answer. He gestured for Deku to sit on his bed and then, without meaning to he blurted his first question out: a question that he was honestly curious about, and likely would have been without experiencing these loops, if only he had been aware of the many unanswered questions related to quirks.

Deku didn't seem to ask why he was asking, although the confusion and caution was very obvious on his face, painted all over his body language. He answered dutifully and Bakugou's heart swelled.

The blonde asked his next question and another and Deku still had a response for everything. It was amazing, and it was impressive and he couldn't get over the disconnect between thinking that Deku was an idiot for wanting to become a hero while quirkless and the fact that Deku was actually something of a genius, though maybe an expert would be a better word, when it came to quirks despite not having his own.

It was… perfection.

As they conversed, Bakugou found himself becoming more focused and engaged, the blurriness of his consciousness slowly disappearing as though simply being in Deku's presence dispelled it.

Of course, at some point it came out. He knew it would, Deku wouldn't just accept what was happening lying down, even if Bakugou had practically beaten that kind of behavior into him for years.

Deku finally verbalized his questions, and Bakugou just knew that he had to tell him the truth.

And so he explained the stupid loops, leaving out the part where he committed suicide in almost every loop. He didn't want to give him any ideas… Which was dumb, in hindsight because he couldn't hide the truth forever, and Deku hadn't needed someone else to give him the idea in the first place if he had gone and done it on his own continuously without intervention.

"B-but that doesn't… that doesn't explain why I'm h-here," Deku stared at the hands clasped in his lap, head tilted so Bakugou couldn't see his face anymore, "Wh-why did you bring me here?"

It was all going to shit. Where the fuck was Aizawa?

"I don't… we don't know how to stop this. I just… There's nothing for us to do and you-you're good with quirks and you think outside the box and I just can't do this anymore p-ple-" he cut himself off, unable to get out a simple 'please' to the person he had known all his life. How fucking pathetic was that?

Bakugou and Deku simply sat there for a moment, breathing slowly and neither daring to look the other in the eye. Or maybe Bakugou wasn't breathing anymore. He could have cared less.

His first mistake was letting Deku be the one to break the silence.

His second? Fooling himself into thinking that he knew what Deku was thinking.

"So you're honestly telling me that after everything you've done and said, you actually need my help? D-don't be ride-ridiculous. I'm useless, I'm worthless, and there's nothing you can do or say to change that truth. You've seen it from the start, don't pretend otherwise now," he whispered harshly as Bakugou blocked the door with his entire body.

And it was like his predictions came true verbatim. Deku reacted horribly but... that wasn't… Deku really thought that…? But why?

"That's not-" he breathed, red eyes wide and lips beginning to wobble dangerously.

Deku sucked in a harsh breath, "Don't tell me that you decided to overlook the truth just because of something as stupid as a time loop making you of all people desperate. You can't-" He cut himself off and snapped his head toward the ground suddenly.

"I can't… I can't what?"

Bakugou warily eyed the way Deku's shoulders hunched up in response to his prompting. Whatever he was thinking, the teen just had to know.

He didn't think he could handle it if he didn't know what was going on in his… his friend's mind, not anymore.

"Y-you of all people can't be… can't be desperate like this!" Deku wailed as he snapped his head back up to look his bully directly in the eye, "B-because then wh-what does that mean for so-some-someone li-like me."

Bakugou was completely caught off guard, his eyes drawn to stare completely transfixed at Deku's quivering lips and scrunched eyebrows. His heart didn't know how to take that, so instead it apparently just stopped feeling at all. There was a sense of dread that built up, which made no sense because the worst of it had just been admitted to his face… right?

He was so out of it, in fact, that Midoriya was able to easily brush past him and out the door.

And Bakugou just… let him.

He didn't resist at all, even letting himself collapse onto his knees from the pitiful shove. He sunk down, letting gravity do its work while his brain decided not to.

Where was Aizawa? Why did he have to leave? He knew what to do. Bakugou was useless. He couldn't do anything right.

But that was… that was supposed to be Deku… right?

Had he just been projecting all this time? Had he… not been justified for so long? How could he have been so blind and so egotistical…?

His heart sank and his gut churned as he knelt there, regrets and questions spiralling as his world view finally splintered into a billion tiny pieces. The world around him was as still as his own body despite his mind running a million kilometers a minute. There was a disconnect, first between himself and his surroundings, but then another that got in the way of his thoughts and his emotions.

It was as if his dizzying mind had suddenly shut down, and he slowly rose to his feet, steadying himself against the door frame.

Bakugou was on auto-pilot, but to where and for what, he wasn't sure. It was like his feelings were tugging him somewhere particular, but refused to tell him why. And just like a robot, his muscles and joints obeyed the orders given.

He shut the door behind him without a care for how loudly he slammed it against the frame, the hinges shrieking in protest. He clomped down the stairs clumsily, forgoing his usual routine of avoiding the squeaking steps. Subconsciously, he was sort of glad that his mother had decided to go shopping and his dad was still at work, both of his parents were out of the house for the next ten minutes at least.

Not, that he would take that long.

But what he was doing was still a mystery to him. Yet every time the fog that filled his head cleared just enough to question it, the feelings rushed back in like a tidal wave, dragging him back under into the darkness.

He left his house and wandered somewhere. Wandered had a connotation of meaninglessness, but while there was a purpose and direction to his movements, they were still unknown by him.

Whatever he was doing, it didn't matter… it felt right. And his instincts hadn't steered him wrong yet… right?

But the fuzziness cleared a bit and he could only think of the way he felt like he had to spit something at Deku, reminding him of his place as though the nerd had ever stepped even a toe out of line in the first place.

The guilt swarmed him again all at once, making his vision swim and his ears ring.

Ah, no. That was an explosion from his own hand, never mind.

So he kept walking until he found himself somewhere familiar yet still foreign and uncomfortable.

It wasn't until he registered the wind rustling through his blonde hair and the distant sound of traffic echoing in his ears that he finally realized what he meant to do.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down and let his legs dangle dangerously.

There was no railing, and somehow that seemed fitting.

He wasn't going to do anything, it was just… nice.

A reprieve.

It was easy to not think up here.

He didn't have to feel up here.

So he just sat and let his mind drift away with the wind.

Aizawa should have known that leaving the two of them alone was a bad idea. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he had thought it was a good one in the first place. Everything seemed to be coming all together in a poetic way, loose ends tying together for the final arc of the story. Maybe reading that stupid novel made him think this was some sort of cliche, some narrative that has a flow to the plot: an introduction, a climax, and a perfectly timed ending.

But no, this was real life, and it never went the way it was supposed to.

And he had forgotten that in spite of his logical self. At the moment, his emotions were running the show, and they likely had been for most, if not all, of the loops. It was frustrating and brought burning guilt and shame that seemed to hang around like fog, clinging to his mind like moss to a damp wall.

So when he ran into (literally) Midoriya, who was making a hasty escape, he just knew that he had fucked up.

Just like Takaki had mentioned, her emotions felt weird sometimes because of her father's quirk. The effect seemed to transfer through proximity to the affected person rather than who the quirk was directly affecting.

So of course it would be affecting Midoriya, who was very close to Bakugou. Maybe this day was just a bad day, and the stupid quirk pushed him off the edge… literally.

The green-haired kid scrambled back, trying to stay on his feet. But upon seeing him, Midoriya froze like a deer in headlights, staring up at him in fear like Aizawa would hurt him. The pro hero couldn't help but think back to how Takaki had completely clobbered the kid, and how the crowd had watched on, enthralled, the way that the few bystanders that had been about to step in had immediately stopped once his quirk status was yelled out.

Maybe this kid was right to expect pain at every turn, if that kind of behavior was something he had dealt with all his life. Actually, now that he thought about it, he hoped that this kid wasn't being abused at home as he seemed to be out in public.

If he was, Aizawa didn't like his chances for keeping the kid alive after this stupid time loop quirk was dealt with.

But he expressed none of the thoughts whirling around in his head, instead choosing to gently rest his hands on the kid's shoulders to steady and ground him. Midoriya shrunk under his grip, but his breathing seemed just the tiniest bit less labored, so he took it as a win.

"Kid, did something happen?" he breathed, hoping that it wasn't something horrible.

Midoriya didn't respond, however. He shrunk even further, trying to subtly pull his shoulders from Aizawa's grip, his eyes darting around wildly.

In search of an escape? Did Midoriya do something to Bakugou? It didn't seem likely given their personalities and history, but then again Bakugou wasn't exactly in his normal state of mind.

"Kid," he tried (and failed) to keep his voice even, "Please tell me what happened. I'm not mad if you did something-" Midoriya flinched at that, "but I can help with whatever it is, I promise."

Aizawa struggled for a minute to get Midoriya to look at him, but once they locked eyes, the kid couldn't go anywhere. He squirmed anxiously, tears beginning to pool and his jaw beginning to shake with the effort to keep from crying.

"I didn't… I d-didn't want to believe th-that it was t-true b-but I… so I told K-Kacchan-" and then the kid broke down into sobs.

He let himself sink down with Midoriya, keeping a grip on him so as to not let him drop like a puppet with its strings cut. If he hadn't been so emotionally taxed and dealing with a distraught kid, he probably would have mused about whether this kid could have a hidden quirk that gave him endless tears; the sheer amount this kid cried was frankly ridiculous.

But it wasn't as if it was unwarranted, so he pulled the kid who was essentially a stranger to him, to his chest and held him tight like he had for Bakugou just hours before.

If he was interpreting Midoriya's words correctly, or at least the ones he had been able to get out before choking them out in between sobs, he had said something to Bakugou that may or may not have been warranted, and Bakugou reacted poorly.

But since he currently wasn't dealing with Bakugou screaming and yelling and berating Midoriya here, the kid had probably just sat and took the words to heart, which wasn't the preferred outcome.

It took a few minutes of consoling and repeating several variations of: "It's not your fault, kid," and "This is all hard to believe, no one can blame you for reacting poorly."

All of which Midoriya had a rebuttal for, which grated Aizawa's nerves. There was just no getting through to this kid, especially when his points were what the pro hero would consider a better way to handle situations like the one the teenager had just screwed up. But he was just that—a teenager. No teenager would have that kind of emotional control and maturity, especially not the boys.

And yet, here this kid was, holding himself to a higher standard, repeatedly lamenting that he was usually better than that at keeping his lips shut tight.

At some point, Midoriya gave a final sniffle and rubbed the tears (and snot) off of his face. Aizawa let his grip slacken and the kid stood up, a bit unsteady but upright nonetheless. The pro hero wasn't exactly sure which of his reassurances had done the trick for this kid, and that irked him a little bit, but he supposed that it didn't matter in the end anyway because he was doing better and they could try again.

Of course, that was before Midoriya's head suddenly swiveled around to look at something. Instinctively, Aizawa also turned to look in the same direction, hoping to spot whatever had caught the kid's attention, but he couldn't quite make anything out.

But then a flash of movement caught his eye. Specifically, a flash of blonde hair meandering away.

Midoriya immediately tried to take off, but Aizawa reached out and held him back by the shoulder. The conflicted and wary look in the teenager's eye drove a knife through his heart, but he forced himself to maintain his grip.

"Let me handle this, alright? We'll try again, and we'll do better next time. It's not your fault, don't feel guilty about any of this. Just stay in Bakugou's room and we'll be back in a bit, sorry."

He patted the kid's shoulder and quickly trailed after the kid, or rather the direction he assumed that Bakugou had gone.

In his haste, he completely missed the figure that almost immediately began tailing him as well.

Midoriya felt like he was drowning. He hadn't known what to expect when Eraserhead of all people had pulled him out of school (illegally, he might add, but then again with their principal, it really should have come as no surprise), but this most certainly wasn't it.

He had been led to Kacchan's house and up to his room, and Kacchan's mom had even smiled at him! But then he didn't even last a second once he stepped foot into Kacchan's room and got a glance at his face.

The wave of nostalgia of the room he hadn't seen in probably over a decade (it was just like he imagined it would be, Kacchan was always so organized and perfect) and the sight of Kacchan's tear-stained face collided with each other at once and overwhelmed him. And then, of course, with his luck, Eraserhead decided that his tears were too much to handle and had left them to work things out.

Why the underground pro hero had thought that would be a good idea, Midoriya really didn't know. And just as predicted, nothing went well in the slightest.

What he hadn't predicted was that it would be all his fault.

It had started out okay: Kacchan had invited him to sit on his bed and asked a few stilted, awkward questions about his notebooks. Essentially whether he still wrote in them and if he still analyzed the quirks and not just the heroes themselves.

Which, frankly, was ridiculous because most heroes were practically only their quirk anyway. If he left out details and observations about their quirk, then he would have almost nothing on half of them.

But that was besides the point. From there, Kacchan had delved into stranger questions. Things that Midoriya himself often wondered about late into the night, and sometimes even into the early morning. Things like how wide of a range could a quirk theoretically affect without overloading the user, could quirk rely on energy that didn't come directly from the user such as sunlight or body heat, or even if quirks could accidentally activate and have different conditions than the user initially thought because it had happened unbeknownst to them.

(The answer was theoretically, if it was based solely on the user's energy, no bigger than a couple of prefectures, depending on the effect of the quirk; many quirks were known to draw energy from the source of the affected party, although it was uncommon and usually had to do with quirks that stole vitality or manipulated a person's energy; and quirks are like muscles and often react reflexively or passively, especially when a user is still trying to get used to their quirk and what it does, which is why the effects can differ from what had been expected.)

But that was also besides the point!

With his responses, Kacchan had deflated in defeat, hanging his head and clearly trying to keep himself together. Midoriya had no idea why, and through his loose lips, he happened to question why that was.

And that was when everything went downhill, spiralling out of control.

The explanation was crazy—time quirks were essentially unheard of outside of movies and TV shows—and wouldn't Eraserhead of all people be able to cancel out the effects of such a quirk?

But then when he voiced his skepticism, Kacchan fucking lost it.

He started spewing bullshit about needing Midoriya's help to get out of this loop, that it was unbearable and horrible and he just couldn't do it, even with freaking Eraserhead's help! There was no way that Midoriya could do anything that Eraserhead couldn't do himself, so he tried to leave before he said something regrettable.

But Kacchan had blocked his way to the door and that was when he started feeling the frustration that had been building up inside of him all day. The pent up emotions that he wasn't sure as to why it was so bad, but that didn't really matter because it was there all the same.

And he spat those regretful words, spilling his own feelings in his own words rather than through Kacchan's.

Midoriya couldn't help but wonder why he had let it slip in that moment: being angry, lashing out, or pushing the blame onto someone else never solved anything. But damn did it feel satisfying in all the wrong ways.

Of course, the reaction he had received from Kacchan wasn't anywhere near the one he had been expecting, for some reason. On many occasions, he had imagined this sort of conversation in many different places in many different ways. But this? This wasn't it.

He wasn't sure why Kacchan was so distraught, he had honestly expected him to just laugh at Midoriya's pitiful, self-centered view of the world.

The urge to comfort his once-friend was so strong, the checked-out expression just making his heart feel like it was imploding. But he knew that Kacchan would never want that, so he silently pushed past him and scrambled out of the house and onto the street.

Midoriya had heard a thump that he imagined was Kacchan falling to the floor, but he just couldn't bring himself to look back and check on him. If he had, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to resist going back to help him, and that wouldn't be good for either of them. So he pressed onward and tried his damnedest to escape the situation he had brought upon himself.

What a useless Deku he was.

Of course, he had been jolted out of his thoughts by running into Eraserhead on the street, almost falling onto his ass before he was able to steady his feet. The hero gripped his shoulder, and he couldn't help but tense up and pull away.

He chided himself, this was a fucking hero, and not just any hero: Eraserhead! He wouldn't do anything to him, what the fuck was he doing? The hell was wrong with him?

But despite that, he should have known that nothing would get any better. The pro hero had asked about what happened, and Midoriya's heart immediately clenched and his throat closed up.

Everything went a bit fuzzy, most of all his hearing, and he hadn't really been sure of what he said, what excuses he tried to make. But of course, it wouldn't matter anyway. Eraserhead would take Kacchan's side, as he should. He should just leave him here to rot and go fix Kacchan.

Yeah, that was logical and reasonable and-and…

But why did that make him burst out into uncontrollable tears in front of his favorite underground hero.

And yet, Eraserhead held him even as he dragged him down both literally and figuratively, bawling his eyes out and babbling incomprehensible words and syllables. He was wasting this man's time and kindness and he needed to stop but he. Just. Couldn't.

Eraserhead was clearly saying something, although Midoriya only knew that based on the soothing vibrations that rumbled in his chest and reverberated into his own head.

He couldn't help but believe that the man was reprimanding him, but it was clear that he wasn't. He wouldn't be holding Midoriya if that was his intention. So he forced himself to pay attention to the muddy words: he owed Eraserhead that much, at least.

And instead of reprimands, he was being soothed. Yet, with each reassurance, he couldn't help but see the flaws in each statement.

If Midoriya stood for one thing, it would probably be for telling the truth, and not letting lies continue. So he couldn't help himself when he whimpered out denials and corrections, just to get this great, awe inspiring hero to stop lying to his face. The thought of pressuring Eraserhead into lying to his face just because he couldn't handle the truth of what Kacchan had said made guilt wrack his entire body like the aches and chills of sickness.

He forced himself to detail exactly how he had fucked up back there, in Kacchan's room, and as much as it pained him to admit it, he pushed through it. The more he spoke the truth, the faster his tears dried up, and he forced himself to get a hold of himself.

How selfish could he be?

So he forced himself out of Eraserhead's grip, and readied himself to assure the man that he was perfectly fine. But then he noticed a blonde flash in the corner of his eye and he whirled around to see Bakugou languidly making his way… somewhere. It was too soon to tell which direction he was headed, and that really didn't sit right with him.

He must have instinctively moved to follow him, but Midoriya hadn't even noticed until Eraserhead stopped him by the shoulders, saying something about handling it and then... apologizing?

It made no sense to Midoriya, well, except for the fact that it was clear that the hero intended for him to stay behind.

He watched Eraserhead's back get further and further away, his chest screaming at him for letting the pro hero leave without him. His anxiety was calm, for once, but dread returned, sitting in his stomach like lead: weighing him down and making his breath catch.

Midoriya was torn in two. He didn't want to bother Eraserhead or Kacchan anymore, so he should stay behind and stay out of their way… but on the other hand, he couldn't just leave things how they were at the moment. He needed to fix this even if he didn't know how. He needed to help Kacchan, and if it meant that in the end Midoriya was going to get hurt…

Well, it wasn't as if he didn't deserve everything Kacchan could give him and more.

So he followed, trailing behind at just enough distance that the pro hero shouldn't notice, especially considering how disoriented and out of sorts he seemed. Normally Midoriya shouldn't stand a chance of being unnoticed by a pro, but it seemed that Kacchan was indeed telling the truth and he really needed the help of a worthless, quirkless kid who had yet to do anything useful in his entire existence.

But as they made their way to an unfamiliar place, near an unfamiliar building, Midoriya just couldn't ditch the feeling that something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong.

When Aizawa finally stopped, indicated by the lack of footsteps, he reluctantly peered around the corner of the building he was hiding behind and…

And saw nothing…

Midoriya quickly peered at the hero in confusion for only a second before the terror invaded his chest and squeezed his heart painfully. Eraserhead was looking up, frozen where he stood. But not by a quirk… no… frozen in shock and fear.

Snapping his head up to the sky, he saw something he never thought he would witness, nor was it something he had ever wished to see.

Kacchan slowly stood up on the edge of the roof, swaying dangerously close, much too close for comfort. He was much too far up to make out any expressions, but all he could see was the blonde hair on the back of his head, so it didn't matter anyway. But seeing Kacchan's emotions plastered on his face didn't matter to Deku, he just needed tO gEt DoWn FrOm ThErE.

In his panic, he scrambled out from behind the wall and toward Aizawa, who whipped around in surprise and almost attacked Deku out of pure instinct and adrenaline. But he didn't even notice, too busy staring up at his friend, his bully, his lifeline that was standing precariously on the roof.

He couldn't help it when he screamed out his friend's nickname.

But it was all his fault in the end.

A gasp—from Deku's own mouth.

A panicked shriek—from above, almost too quiet to hear.

The sound of the wind followed by a sickening squelch.

The tears flowed as Deku ran past the pro hero who turned back around at the horrible sound behind him.

Red red red.

Deku collapsed into the puddle, keening at the way it splashed all over him, wishing that it was his own blood instead.

Because this wasn't supposed to happen to Kacchan.

It should have been him.