💚🧡Bakudeku & Kirikami One Shots❤️💛

I Don't Wanna Go~ Part 2

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40th one-shot WHOOOOOOP!!!

How convenient, because this is probably my 3rd most angstiest one-shot!

Also, I realised how ugly the titles looked with the hearts, so I spend 20 mins copying and pasting them so they look like this... is this better than before though?

AU:
No quirks
WW2 era
Gay couples are legal
Warnings:
TRIGGER WARNING!

Thank me in the comments :D

[Kaminari's POV]

The lonely nights showed no sign of shortening.

Every day I got another one of those letters.

Each one I replied.

Each one I keep in a box.

I don't dare go over the letters again. I can't imagine what kind of emotions are rushing through Kirishima. It was over 30 degrees, but still, I felt so cold and isolated. There was an absent body next to me every time, and it was nightmarish to think that he was fighting perilously out there, having to face the potential surroundings of gunshots and screams and blood and pain.

Each letter was another sign that showed me Kiri was still alive.

It felt like a clock ticking away at the back of my head. A clock that couldn't stop moving forward. I didn't know how to be happy anymore. That privilege was lost with Kiri, the man who was practically torn out of my arms. I cried for 3 days flat since then, and still I cast those longing glances at the door, hoping for the beautiful man himself to come barging through that door with his adorning smile that shone brighter than any source of light.

Each time, the door remained empty.

I didn't know which was worse. The fact that Kiri, possibly one of the most emotionally weakened people there, was out there fending for his life, or the fact that this painful loneliness made me almost lose my will to live.

Why were the fates ruling our lives so twisted?

It was yet another day today.

Another dull and dragging day.

Kiri's letters seemed to come later and his writing appeared to be written with a more lethargic hand, which can only mean he was losing sleep. I only wished to be there instead of him, or at least be with him. Why did I have to be such a bloody sap that night? I could've gone with him instead of shrieking and clinging onto him for dear life. His tears only duplicated by the action.

I wake in the welcoming arms of cold bedsheets, sweat painted on my face as I only nestle back inside to cling onto any feeling of warmth. They were soft, but they missed the heat I longed for. And soon enough, I give up, flipping the covers off and slipping my feet into my slippers, lumbering my way downstairs.

I don't care about myself anymore. I don't brush my hair out, and I don't brush my teeth, and I do nothing in particular besides mindlessly reading through books. Sometimes I even forget to eat. I had no purpose. My world had been plummeted into darkness.

I didn't want to be this weak. I want to feel like I used to, before this all came crashing down. But by the way things are going so far, I feel like the road to recovery will take more than a few miles.

This day was supposed to be another monotone day like all the others before.

But it was beyond a nightmare for me.