Katsuki Bakugou {Hanahaki AU} - Sad Ending

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by Kawaiipon

by Kawaiipon

Requested by: fl0atingh0e

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"Katsuki!"

The tone and force behind your usually cheery voice almost made him jolt. He turned, locking on to your gaze with distain. He wasn't really sure why you pursued him so much; did you have a stupid, childish crush on him or something? Smirking at the thought, he shook his head, giving you half of his attention. The other half was focused on another corner of the room, where his group of friends were happily chatting away. He nearly smiled, before he remembered that he had a reputation to uphold. An irritated huff passed his lips, as he waited somewhat impatiently for you to continue. Your ridiculously big smile was blinding - he didn't like it. Not one bit.

"I was just going to congratulate you for winning the other day, in training. You were so cool!" You gushed, trying to stop a nosebleed.

He snorted. "Of course I was, and you don't need to say anything. I already know I'm better than the rest of you."

"Yep!" You agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

There was a sudden, loud bout of laughter from his friendship group, which prompted him to look towards them. His crimson eyes graced a doubled-over Kaminari, and a giggling Ashido. She was grinning as well, smacking Sero's back ferociously. He didn't seem that fazed, instead making a comment that pushed her over the edge. Now her arms were flailing, and a stream of tears was cascading down her face. She clutched her chest tightly, yanking at her uniform as if the temperature had just drastically increased. Watching her, the explosive blonde felt a sense of calm wash over him. His heart beats were steady, regulated, and his mind was clear. He didn't quite understand the symptoms of love, but this was probably the closest he was ever going to get. He was a different case - so much more special than anyone else, so obviously things regarding his feelings would be different.

He was staring so intently, that a few of his friends felt holes burning into their backs. They craned their necks, glancing Bakugou's form, and waved, motioning for him to join in the conversation. He plastered on an aggravated façade, jumping on to his feet and causing the chair to skid on the floor. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he waltzed over to the group, ignoring you completely. He left you in the dust, smiling sadly and listening to his heavy footsteps, gradually getting further and further away from you.

Your heart hammered dangerously in your chest, and you felt an uncomfortable bubbling at the bottom of your throat. A look of sheer terror enveloped your face, and you began quietly panicking. You really needed to be somewhere private, but once you glimpsed towards the clock, you noticed that it was already time for class. Aizawa stepped into the room, instructed you to take your seats, and that was that; you were stuck in a vicious cycle. Every time you felt those dreaded petals, you would have to shove them back down. They were building up, resting even in your stomach. They passed your lungs, sticking to them like the plague. You started coughing, although, upon a sharp look from Aizawa, you swallowed, pushing some more petals down. It soon became far too hard to breathe, and you didn't have the voice to ask permission to leave.

Resting your head on the desk, you allowed around three pink petals to spill out on to it. Your breathing was incredibly laboured. A shudder wracked your entire body.

Jirou, who was seated next to you, raised her hand, eyes wide and voice shaky. "Mr Aizawa, I think (Y/n) needs to see Recovery Girl."

He grunted, and she prodded your shoulder. You lifted your head up, and she noticed a small trickle of blood running down from your mouth. She grabbed your arm, hoisting you from your seat. Your vision was hazy, and you stumbled, forgetting about the few petals scattered on the table. Jirou saw them, but said nothing. When you eventually made it to Recovery Girl, you felt slightly more able to breathe - a river of pink trailed behind you; the majority of those awful petals were in a neat formation on the ground, leading from the door to Class 1-A, to Recovery Girl's office.

You lay on one of the beds, frail, and coughing violently. Jirou sat beside your body, extremely concerned.

"It's Hanahaki again, dearie." The older woman sighed.

"Hanahaki?" Jirou asked. "For who?"

You answered through coughs. "K-Katsuki."

"Ugh, him? No wonder. Can I beat him up for you?" She countered, trying to smirk, despite the worry in her heart.

"Thank you."

Recovery Girl pressed her lips against your forehead, although she knew nothing could be done. Her company was preferable to a hospital, because she could heal better than a thousand ordinary nurses. This time, however, she couldn't heal you. She couldn't do anything to cease the suffering, for you required a special type of treatment - one you had adamantly refused. You didn't remember all those previous times, in which your heart would pound painfully around the explosive blonde. You didn't remember loving him over and over again, aching and grieving for him - for your beautiful feelings. You lost them too many times to count, regaining them, only then to lose them again.

The room was devoid of life-support machines, but they wouldn't have made a difference. This was a disease you were going to die from. There was no point trying to deny that. It was a fact, and nothing could change it. Prolonging it would also only cause you more harm. Your (e/c) eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing you ever saw was a free-flowing stream of tears, dripping down on to you from the girl above. The last thing you ever felt was her warm hands on your frigid shoulders, shaking you fiercely. The last thing you ever heard was a defiant shout, about how she wasn't about to let you go so easily. A smile crept on to your face. This was okay - you were at peace. After all this time, and all this pain, it was finally coming to an end.

You could rest now.

Jirou's steps were sluggish, her face wet with tears. She walked beside Recovery Girl, arms folded against her chest. She wouldn't be the one to give them the news - she couldn't; it was simply too much for her to handle. She refused to believe that any of what had transpired was actually real. For her own sanity, she needed to hold on to that doubt - that defiance - with all her strength. The classroom door stood before them, now more forbidding than ever. She extended a quivering hand forwards, but stalled, then pulled it back. Recovery Girl sighed, head shaking, and eyes glazed over with worry and sadness. She stepped towards the door, sliding it across. Jirou followed behind.

She waddled up to the front of the room, with bated breath. The atmosphere suddenly grew very tense. Aizawa looked like he wanted to speak, but after opening his mouth, he promptly closed it again. The healing hero cleared her throat, then addressed the class.

"(Y/n) had the Hanahaki disease. She was in a lot of pain, but refused the treatment, because she didn't want to let go of her feelings. Unfortunately, the petals built up, stopping her breathing and oxygen flow. She is going to be sleeping for a long time, so you'll have to adjust to life without her."

Your classmates glanced towards Jirou, seeing the way in which her tears dripped down her chin, creating two separate puddles, that slowly merged into one. In that moment, they knew that they had lost a valuable friend.

[Word Count: 1304]