He catches you hurting yourself
Written by me and all copyrights reserved
The bathroom door slammed shut, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment. You braced yourself against the sink, knuckles white, staring down at the crimson streaks staining the porcelain.
You hated this. Hated seeing the proof of your weakness etched on your skin, hated the way it made you feel like a failure. A weak, pathetic failure.
A hand, warm and calloused, covered yours on the sink. You looked up, flinching instinctively, to meet Bakugou's fiery crimson eyes. They weren't blazing with anger this time, but with a dull, burning worry that made your heart clench.
"Don't," he said, his voice rough. "Don't do this to yourself again."
You swallowed the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "I-I don't mean to," you choked out. "It just... it just feels so good to make the pain stop."
Bakugou scoffed, but it lacked its usual bite. "It doesn't stop, [Y/N]," he said, his voice laced with frustration. "It just hides. And then it comes back, stronger than before."
He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your shaking form. His touch was a stark contrast to the cold porcelain beneath your hands, a grounding force in the storm of self-loathing that threatened to consume you.
"You're not weak," he murmured, his voice low and close to your ear. "You're the strongest person I know. You fight every single day, even when you don't think you can."
His words were a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge. You leaned into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, his familiar scent of cinnamon and gunpowder a calming balm to your frayed nerves.
"But I hurt you," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin. "I hurt myself, and it hurts you too."
He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his calloused hands. His eyes, usually fierce, were now pools of soft concern. "It does," he admitted. "But I'd rather see you hurt yourself than lose you to this darkness."
His words were a punch to the gut, a stark reminder of the precipice you were teetering on. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over and tracing hot paths down your cheeks.
"I don't want to lose you either, Bakugou," you choked out, your voice thick with emotion. "I don't want to lose myself."
He brushed a stray tear away with his thumb, his touch gentle yet firm. "Then fight, [Y/N]," he commanded, his voice low but unwavering. "Fight for yourself, fight for us. You're not alone in this. I'm here, every step of the way."
His words ignited a spark within you, a flicker of defiance against the self-destructive darkness that had been consuming you. You might be bruised, you might be broken, but you weren't done yet.
"I'll try," you whispered, your voice trembling with newfound resolve. "I'll try for you, Katsuki."
He smiled, a small, genuine smile that lit up his face like a sunrise. "That's all I ask," he said, pulling you back into his embrace.
You stood there, clinging to each other, the silence filled with unspoken promises and the unwavering strength of love. The pain might still be there, but it felt different now. It was a shared burden, a battle you would fight together.
And for the first time in a long time, you believed you could win.
The next morning, the sunlight streamed through your window, painting the room in a warm glow. You stirred, feeling a comforting weight around you. Bakugou's arm was draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling with a steady, reassuring rhythm.
You snuggled closer, savoring the warmth and security of his presence. Last night's moment had been raw, vulnerable, and terrifyingly real. But it had also been a turning point, a crack in the wall you'd built around your pain.
He stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open. They met yours, and a soft smile played on his lips. "Morning, sleepyhead," he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.
You smiled back, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. "Morning," you whispered, tracing a pattern on his arm with your finger. "Thank you for being here."
He squeezed your hand. "Always," he said, his voice gruff but sincere. "You know that."
You spent the morning cuddled together on the couch, watching cartoons and sharing lazy kisses. The bathroom incident felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of shared laughter and quiet intimacy.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, you decided to head out for a walk. Bakugou readily agreed, and you soon found yourselves strolling through the park, hand-in-hand.
The autumn air was crisp and invigorating, the leaves crunching under your feet with each step. You pointed out brightly colored leaves to Bakugou, his usual scowl replaced by a surprised delight. He even picked a couple of the prettiest ones for you, tucking them behind your ear with a shy smile.
You laughed, his unexpected tenderness melting your heart. "You're so sweet sometimes, even if you don't want to admit it," you teased.
He scoffed, but his cheeks flushed pink. "Shut up, nerd."
You continued your walk, talking about everything and nothing. You discussed your hopes and dreams for the future, your silly plans for the weekend, and your shared love for cheesy superhero movies.
With each passing moment, the weight of yesterday lifted further. You were with Bakugou, and that was all that mattered. He was your anchor, your safe harbor, the calm in your storm.
As you walked home, the last rays of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. It was a moment of breathtaking beauty, and you and Bakugou stood there, holding each other close, simply enjoying the view.
"This is perfect," you whispered, leaning your head against his chest.
"Yeah," he murmured, his voice warm against your ear. "It is."
And as you stood there, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, you knew he wasn't just talking about the view. He was talking about you, about him, about the two of you together. And you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were right. It was perfect.
But it was also a new beginning. You knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy. There would be dark days, moments of doubt, and the ever-present temptation to fall back into old patterns. But you also knew you wouldn't face them alone. You had Bakugou by your side, and that made all the difference.
Together, you would walk into the sunset, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next. You would fight, you would stumble, you would pick yourselves up and keep going. Because that's what love was, wasn't it? A shared journey, a promise whispered not just in words, but in the warmth of a hand held tight and the steady beat of a heart against your own.
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