[ 'i killed aki' - 'it's not your fault'. 'power died because of me' - 'it's not your fault' - 'nayuta is missing' - 'it's not your fault' - 'my house is burned and my pets are dead' - 'it's not your fault'. -'i hurt bakugou' - 'it's not your fault' - 'i hurt our other teammates' - 'it's not your fault'.
how long can he hear this before it starts sounding like a lie? how long will he pretend he wasn't responsible for each and every shitty event in his life? how many tragedies must he endure before he acknowledges that he's the fucking problem? it's because he's weak-hearted. pathetic enough to manipulate, a coward who wouldn't act fast or smart enough, he's easy prey, and all that falls on the people who are foolish enough to give a shit about a scum like him. if this is the life that was created for him, denji doesn't want to live it anymore. if that is all to it— a brutal repetitive cycle of trying and getting hurt until every shred of his humanity is ripped out of his pitiful soul and he becomes the monster that they want him to be. and, you know? sometimes he does think about it. he does stop and wonder what it would feel like to say 'fuck it'? just fuck it all. fuck everyone. nayuta called him out on it and coaxed him to join the devil's side because that is what he, inwardly, wished to do. he's tired. so tired. how long can he act like he's a decent person who is worthy of a normal existence?
he wants to give up, but — bakugou is here.
he's too close, strong arms pulling him into a warm body, taking in the familiar scent of that boy, one that reminded him of their shared moments of contentment. the late nights of casual talks, their early mornings, the excitement of an upcoming date, catching a movie together, grabbing a meal on their way back to the base after long hours of work, holding hands, sharing a kiss - being loved. between all those grim thoughts spitting toxicity into his mind, promising it would all be better if he just gave up and stopped fighting, denji wanted to hold onto something else. he wanted to hold onto that tiny shimmer of hope that maybe ... just maybe ... he could have another ending in this life.
it was hard— probably the most difficult fight he had ever had, almost physically draining as it was emotionally. it had little to do with the brainwashing stunt anymore; it was nothing but a trigger to unload years and years of unresolved traumas toppling down all at once. this is what he truly dreaded, suffering the despair that just hurts and hurts until it tears him apart. denji is nowhere close to being calm. hell, he's barely able to catch his breath, but ... he's reaching out. it was a bit messy and erratic, the way he dropped his hands lower, gripping and tugging on anything so he could pull the other boy closer, clinging desperately. ]
Make it stop ... [ his fears. his doubts. his thoughts. the pain - everything. ] ... please ... [ it's unfair. ] ... make it stop! [ it's borderline cruel, but - he takes that hand, finally. his fingers clutched the fabric of bakugou's suit as he fought to catch his breath. denji's heart ached, a heavy, gnawing discomfort that felt insurmountable; muffled sobs escaped his lips, the kind that tugged at the soul. since the day he found out that bakugou's dream is to be the number one hero, a thought stuck to him. it started with interest and slowly progressed into a genuine desire. ]
... help me ...
[ he never voiced it out until now. this time, it was less of a selfish entitlement and more of a scared young boy who didn't know what else to do. a boy who didn't want to forget he's still human. a boy who didn't want to surrender to all the hate and resentment boiling in his heart. denji is no hero, he didn't care for that life, he just wanted — to be happy, to love and be loved, and never be a reason to hurt anyone who is kind to him. and then, all of a sudden, it was getting harder for denji to keep his weight on his feet, and bakugou would feel the way his body is reaching its limit. he'd been trapped in a cell for most of his time here, barely able to rest or heal, and after all that blood loss and emotional drain, he was getting lightheaded. it's unlikely he had any energy in him to fight in his current status, even under a command from the captives; the only thing that kept him lucid was sheer anxiety, unwilling to let go of the other boy even when his body was giving in. ]
no subject
how long can he hear this before it starts sounding like a lie? how long will he pretend he wasn't responsible for each and every shitty event in his life? how many tragedies must he endure before he acknowledges that he's the fucking problem? it's because he's weak-hearted. pathetic enough to manipulate, a coward who wouldn't act fast or smart enough, he's easy prey, and all that falls on the people who are foolish enough to give a shit about a scum like him. if this is the life that was created for him, denji doesn't want to live it anymore. if that is all to it— a brutal repetitive cycle of trying and getting hurt until every shred of his humanity is ripped out of his pitiful soul and he becomes the monster that they want him to be. and, you know? sometimes he does think about it. he does stop and wonder what it would feel like to say 'fuck it'? just fuck it all. fuck everyone. nayuta called him out on it and coaxed him to join the devil's side because that is what he, inwardly, wished to do. he's tired. so tired. how long can he act like he's a decent person who is worthy of a normal existence?
he wants to give up, but — bakugou is here.
he's too close, strong arms pulling him into a warm body, taking in the familiar scent of that boy, one that reminded him of their shared moments of contentment. the late nights of casual talks, their early mornings, the excitement of an upcoming date, catching a movie together, grabbing a meal on their way back to the base after long hours of work, holding hands, sharing a kiss - being loved. between all those grim thoughts spitting toxicity into his mind, promising it would all be better if he just gave up and stopped fighting, denji wanted to hold onto something else. he wanted to hold onto that tiny shimmer of hope that maybe ... just maybe ... he could have another ending in this life.
it was hard— probably the most difficult fight he had ever had, almost physically draining as it was emotionally. it had little to do with the brainwashing stunt anymore; it was nothing but a trigger to unload years and years of unresolved traumas toppling down all at once. this is what he truly dreaded, suffering the despair that just hurts and hurts until it tears him apart. denji is nowhere close to being calm. hell, he's barely able to catch his breath, but ... he's reaching out. it was a bit messy and erratic, the way he dropped his hands lower, gripping and tugging on anything so he could pull the other boy closer, clinging desperately. ]
Make it stop ... [ his fears. his doubts. his thoughts. the pain - everything. ] ... please ... [ it's unfair. ] ... make it stop! [ it's borderline cruel, but - he takes that hand, finally. his fingers clutched the fabric of bakugou's suit as he fought to catch his breath. denji's heart ached, a heavy, gnawing discomfort that felt insurmountable; muffled sobs escaped his lips, the kind that tugged at the soul. since the day he found out that bakugou's dream is to be the number one hero, a thought stuck to him. it started with interest and slowly progressed into a genuine desire. ]
... help me ...
[ he never voiced it out until now. this time, it was less of a selfish entitlement and more of a scared young boy who didn't know what else to do. a boy who didn't want to forget he's still human. a boy who didn't want to surrender to all the hate and resentment boiling in his heart. denji is no hero, he didn't care for that life, he just wanted — to be happy, to love and be loved, and never be a reason to hurt anyone who is kind to him. and then, all of a sudden, it was getting harder for denji to keep his weight on his feet, and bakugou would feel the way his body is reaching its limit. he'd been trapped in a cell for most of his time here, barely able to rest or heal, and after all that blood loss and emotional drain, he was getting lightheaded. it's unlikely he had any energy in him to fight in his current status, even under a command from the captives; the only thing that kept him lucid was sheer anxiety, unwilling to let go of the other boy even when his body was giving in. ]