An Angel // KiriBaku // Bakushima

Nine (part one)

It was late
2 am maybe?
And all Kirishima knew
Was that something was very wrong.

The apartment he shared with Bakugo was cold.
Bakugo hates the cold.
A warm liquid trickled down Kirishimas forehead.
He touched it tentatively with a finger, freezing when he saw a splotch of maroon tinting his finger.
Blood.

He remembers this feeling.
Of rocks in his lungs.
Blood creeping down his body.
The loss of hearing
Of taste
Of feel.
The emptiness in his heart.
His wings felt like a dead weight.
His vision was....
grey.

"Bakugo?"
He called out despite blood filling his mouth and a scratchy sensation in his throat.
No response.
Kirishima forcefully dragged himself off the stale mattress that he called a bed and raced over to Bakugos room. The room was empty and dark, the blinds were closed the full way so no moonlight could creep in. The angel could make out a note on the ground but he couldn't see the blonde he had grown so attached to.
"Bakugo?"
He called out again desperately.
No response.
He carefully picked up the note, squinting to try and read the words.

"I'll make things right."

Was written in scratchy handwriting.
Something else was written too but it was crossed out several times to the point it was unreadable.
"I'll make things right"
Kirishima mocked and bit his lip, a habit he picked up from the boy that was nowhere to be seen.
"What an idiot".
He glanced at the small alarm clock on Bakugos bedside, it read "2:47 am". It was probably safe to go out with his wings exposed, he couldn't retract them because of the critical pain he was in.

So he did.

He didn't bother putting on shoes, or a shirt.
It's not like it mattered.
He ran through the empty streets, waiting for a sign Bakugo was nearby. Kirishima payed close attention to the state of his pain, if it faded... perhaps that meant he was close to him. Bitter and cold snowflakes fell and dampened his skin, freezing winds collided against his face.
Where was he?
Bakugo?
Tears.
Tears were forming for no reason.
And there were lots of them gliding down Kirishimas face.
There he was.
A figure standing alone on a high bridge.
With spiky hair all too similar to his.
Kirishimas heart stopped.
The figure stepped off the bridge.