~ Third Person P.O.V ~

"Izuku let us in,"

Izuku bit his lips as his face flooded with the oncoming and unwelcomed tears, a painful lump forming in the base of his throat. He had to clasp a hand over his mouth to preclude any more gut-wrenching sobs from echoing throughout the small bathroom. The water from the faucet still running and swirling down the drain, gurgling and shooting the liquid back up every now and then. It was the mixtape to his sorrows at the moment.

"Izuku please let us in," Shoto repeated, rattling the doorknob frequently in attempts to go in despite the lock prohibiting him. "It wasn't your fault."

The younger male bit harder on his lip, the faint taste of copper pooling into his mouth for he had begun to draw blood from the soft piece of flesh. Izuku fed into that pain, reminding himself that he deserved it and so much more . . . for the man he killed endured ten times the amount of pain he's experiencing. You deserve this. His teeth pressed harder onto his skin, his own blood beginning to trickle down the curve of his bottom lip and chin, droplets mixing with the man's blood still tainting his shirt.

You deserve this.

His fingers gripped his hair once more as he rocked back and forth, his nail scathing his scalp as hard he could manage. Weak, yet somehow powerful, attempts to make himself feel pain, to make himself feel something.

"C'mon, Small Fry, just say something," Katsuki said quietly form the other side of the door.

Izuku ignored their attempts, as his fingers gave up on scratching and instead resorted to pulling. Tugging on his green curls until his head pounded, vision blurring and breathing erratic as he continued to pull. The saliva glossing over his teeth now coated with his blood as he continued to bite down on his lip, the skin in the surrounding area beginning to tingle from loss of blood circulation.

You deserve this.

The Japanese-American ignored it when the cheap knob on the door finally rattled off its screws, bouncing a few times until inevitably landing by his thigh. He ignored it when he heard Katsuki and Shoto's footfalls drawing nearer and nearer towards him. Izuku ignored it when the gurgling of the water stopped, and when he felt two sets of arms wrap around him — allowing himself to fall limp against one of them.

He wasn't sure who at this point.

"I killed him . . ." Izuku whimpered, enabling Shoto's hands to guide his own away from his hair. "I'm a murderer,"

Katsuki softly cupped the sides of Izuku's face, compelling the younger to look him dead in the eyes. "No, you're not. You did what you had to do, I'm not saying that makes your emotions any less valid or some shit like that . . . But if you hadn't done what you did, all of us would be dead. You know that,"

And the worse part about this was, Izuku knew Katsuki spoke the truth . . . He killed a man, yes, but in return, he saved his friends and potentially other lives that night. But that still didn't stop the image of the man's horrified face from plaguing his mind, transporting him back to a few hours ago when it all occurred.

The damned screaming.

"Hey," Shoto whispered softly, pulling Izuku's hands down yet again and tucking his index finger underneath the boy's chin. "Don't do that . . . Don't let it consume you," he instructed, a knowing look burning vehemently in his eyes.

The look of someone who understands.

And as Izuku turned to gaze at Katsuki, he saw that very same look dancing in those ruby orbs of his. Their silence spoke volumes in that very moment, Izuku knew that they knew what he was going through . . . what he felt.

"How many?" Izuku asked hoarsely after a while of silence, "How many people have you both killed?"

It was an odd question, that much was evident, not exactly your typical dinner conversation and whatnot. But Izuku wasn't in the right mindset at the moment, causing a myriad of — probably — odd and possibly inappropriate questions. Such as this one.

"Four," The duel-haired male responded instantly, his grip on Izuku's waist tightening as he stared at the cabinet underneath the sink. "Four people in the past two years."

Izuku turned his gaze over to the blond, raising an eyebrow as he waited for an answer from him. It was peculiar, hearing about the other two males' experiences somehow making him feel better about his . . . kind of fucked up but, he felt a bit better.

Knowing that he wasn't alone.

"Two. One of them was a few months ago . . . There was this boy from an internment camp who attacked a guard, little did we know the guard had a few bombs on him; the boy to them when he knocked the guard out. He was about to throw it at me and my squad but I shot him." Katsuki explained, closing his eyes as he went back to that day.

"And the other?" The younger pressed, leaning his head on the blond's shoulder.

Water splashed against the rocks.

Screaming filled Katsuki's ears from that day.

Debris from the gun spattered on said water, and the bed of grass below him.

"My father," Katsuki hummed, running his fingers through Izuku's hair.

"Gou-Gou," The eldest of the three started, a solemn look plastered on his face. "That wasn't your fault, he was already going through a lot."

Ruby eyes blazed as they honed in on Shoto's slumped over figure. "He was fucking weak is what he was . . . He should have said something — I could have done something if he just fucking talked to me." he seethed, hot tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"What happened?" Izuku asked quietly, bringing his still soaked hand up to wipe away at the tears on Katsuki's face.

Katsuki inhaled deeply as he rubbed his eyes. Fully allowing himself to go back to that day. He wasn't entirely sure how the course of this conversation ended up being focused on him, nor was he too fond of that. But looking down at Izuku, at his curious green orbs which were still filled with so much regret and uncertainty.

He felt he owed it to him to tell him.

"I was born and raised in Hawaii, both of us were," Katsuki began, signaling to himself and Shoto. "My dad started to go through a pretty tough time around my fourteenth birthday . . . he got laid off his job, he and my mom were arguing like crazy. Long story short is he shot himself right in front of me,"

Izuku wrapped his arms around the blond's middle, burying his face into the side of his chest. And the three of them sat like that all night, not saying anything as they curled up next to one another on the bathroom floor. They didn't sleep, talk, or do anything for that matter except bask in each other's presence.

Craving each other's comfort. Sure, the three hadn't known each other for a while, but somehow, someway, their shared trauma is what would keep them going.

The war that was once dividing them didn't have its hold on the three anymore.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔼𝕟𝕕