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You watched his lips form your name with desperation in his eyes, but all you could hear was a faint buzz. You wanted to reach for him except a heavyweight immobilized both your arms and you couldn’t move. Any senses that remained were too slow for you to use properly and you felt helpless as you watched Bakugou’s eyes become watery.
You wanted to reassure him, lie that things would be okay, but you struggled to even form words. He was screaming now. You could tell by the ugly crease he always got between his brows. You were growing dizzier by the second and just wishing you could grab his hand one last time.
This wasn’t fair. You kept repeating it to yourself as Bakugou sneered at the people who were watching you suffer for their amusement.
This wasn’t how your story was supposed to end.
It was your least favorite part of the day: gym training. You were off in the farthest corner with Midoriya practicing how to throw knives while he sat on the ground beside you taking notes. Although you tried your hardest, focusing intensely on the body’s center, only two of the ten knives hit their target.
You let out a frustrated growl and stomped over to the practice dummy.
“Don’t get upset,” Midoriya said without looking up. “It’s not like we’ll be picked to compete anyway.”
You raised a brow after collecting the fallen knives. “You used to be so eager to get that number one spot. Where’d that fire go?”
He lowered his notebook and gave you a dead stare. “I grew up and realized I didn’t want to die just for our district’s monetary benefit.”
“Wish other people could realize the same thing.”
He tilted his head before a buzzer rang throughout the gymnasium signaling the end of another sparring match. You both watched Bakugou Katsuki hop off the center mat leaving a classmate flat on his back and out of breath. Bakugou, however, looked unphased and was smirking wildly with confidence. You frowned. It hurt to see that your childhood friend turned into the District 2 show dog.
A group of girls nearby start to whisper and point towards the center ring. You look back at Bakugou who was now taking a long swig of water and the girls started to giggle while shoving each other lightly. A sneer formed on your face. You turn back towards the target and throw a knife.
A perfect headshot.
“Hey! Turns out jealousy is your motivator.” Midoriya nodded his head before scribbling something down. “Who knew…”
“Wha—” You looked between him and the practice dummy. “I wasn’t—what do you—jealous? About what?”
Midoriya rolled his eyes. “It’s been ten years. Don’t even pretend like you don’t—”
“Deku!” You both turned at the rough voice. Bakugou was looking over with his cocky smirk which was never a good sign. “Get over here so I can kick your ass.”
Midoriya pouted, mumbling curses as he placed his notebook beside him. You just sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. Bakugou always got too conceded when he was on a winning streak, and the teachers never bothered telling him what to do anymore. You were getting sick of it.
“Fight someone else Bakugou.” You scowled.
Bakugou raised a brow, smirking. “Yeah? Who ya thinking?”
“It’s not a big deal. He never goes all out.” Deku looked at you wearily, but you shook your head. Bakugou taking it easy wasn’t the issue. The point was him always getting whatever he wanted just because he could.
“You gonna fight him?” One of the girls beside you suggested. You looked back at Bakugou and his expression fell for a moment. A round of people shouting in agreeance rang before Bakugou scoffed.
“Like I’d bother.” He sneered, turning around and walking out the gym. Your face was red as several people laughed. You clenched your fists to help bite back the burning sensation in your eyes.
“He doesn’t mean it.” Deku frowned, picking his notebook back up. You shook your head at him.
“Why do you always defend him?”
Deku mulled over your question carefully, so long you assumed he was ignoring you. “Kacchan has a reason for what he does.”
You tilted your head back to where the explosive boy had marched out; just wishing you could understand him for once in your life.
No matter how much you wanted to you could never hate Bakugou Katsuki. He was violent, arrogant, and downright disrespectful; but every time he looked at you, you couldn’t fight the truth. You couldn’t erase the years of memories you two had created. Days spent racing through town with Midoriya while you annoyed shop owners for sweets or running through backyards pretending to be tributes branding twigs before understanding what the games truly were. Years of laughter and friendship that were too poignant for you to wipe clean as easily as he had.
When he suddenly stopped meeting with you and Midoriya and started focusing on entering the arena you did your best to leave him in the past. When he decided that it was better to play with real swords than brandish sticks and rocks or prank the neighborhood bakers you wanted to push him away. He changed from the person you had admired into something you hated, but you were never able to shake those brave smiles and wild laughter from the younger version of the asshole he’d become.
You were currently wandering the school’s halls, having forgotten a textbook, when you heard sounds coming from the gymnasium. The room should have been locked at this hour, so you crept towards it. Bakugou was inside, slashing a practice dummy apart with a machete. You watched with an aching heart at the fierce look in his eyes as he zoned out on the target, mindless in his actions. Was there even a shred of the old him in there or had it all been destroyed?
“The fuck are you looking at?”
Your eyes shot wide and you straightened up. You hadn’t even realized you spaced out and you couldn’t think of any excuse because the truth was you were watching him like a creep, and there would be no recovery. You cursed internally as he stared at you expectantly for the answer you didn’t have.
“I don’t understand.” You went for, which was wrong, and you regretted immediately.
“I already know you’re an idiot, but why are you being an idiot in my gymnasium?” He raised an eyebrow. You narrowed your eyes. His gymnasium? That statement made your heart drop to your stomach.
“You’re smart, Bakugou. You’ve always been smart. Why are you putting so much effort into this?” You gestured around the gym. “You must know what it really stands for.”
He took a deep breath. “I don’t have a lot of options.”
“Killing people is really the best option you can—”
“Yes.” He looked you dead in the eye and the intensity made you take a step back. “I’ve been raised to do this since I was four (Y/N). You have opportunities, but all I have is this.”
“You could find something. You’re obviously talented I’m sure—”
“Fuck!” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t… The second I started showing promise that’s it. Whether I fucking want to or not I’m going in that arena. You and Deku were always too weak you never had to worry about it. These fuckers went straight to my parents (Y/N) I never had a choice.”
Your mouth hung half-open in shock. That must have been what Midoriya meant when he said that Bakugou had his own reasons, but you never could have imagined…
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”
“Yeah. No fucking shit,” he rubbed his palms against his eyes then looked at you confused before wiping your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “Don’t fucking do that. You weren’t supposed to care anymore.”
“I wasn’t… what?”
He took a deep breath. “I stopped talking to you and Deku when I figured it out. It was supposed to make things easier.”
You felt your heart stop at the confession and you shoved him backward. “You can’t just walk out of people’s lives! That’s not your decision to make.”
“I was going to come back.” He said. “Just… after I made sure I won.”
You thought about how intensely he had always trained and how suddenly that change had happened. You had always assumed it was because of his need for attention, but it was because he wanted to live. Even now he was spending nights in the training room rather than at home. You brought your gaze to your feet, unable to face him.
“I hate you…” You mumbled, half-assed and insincere. It was for walking out your life, for one day entering that arena, and for the fact that you didn’t hate him at all. You never had and you never would.
“That was the plan.” He scoffed.
You clung tightly to your new dress as you walked home. Although you would not be picked tomorrow it was still important that you looked presentable for the cameras—your district had a representation to uphold. Your mother had spent good money on the shimmering blue piece in your arms, and normally you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it, but you couldn’t let her money go to waste.
It had already been six months since you spoke to Bakugou in the gymnasium and already so much has changed. Tomorrow he would be leaving and although you wanted to believe that he would return home, you still couldn’t hold back the pain that overcame you when you imagined watching him on the television. No matter what happened out there the Bakugou you knew wouldn’t be coming back.
The lights were on in his home as you walked past, and you debated stopping by to say something. He probably had plenty of people over tonight, so there was no reason for you to bother him. He wouldn’t want to see you anyway after you insulted his very being all those nights ago. If he had he wouldn’t have gone right back to ignoring you as if nothing had ever happened.
As those thoughts filtered through, you were pulled roughly by the arm and dragged off the main road towards back alleys. Panic flooded your system; your district was filled with dangerous people who were skilled with multitudes of weaponry and martial arts. You were as good as dead. You went to swing at your attacker but stopped short when you saw messy ash-blonde hair.
“Bakugou?”
“Quiet.” He kept looking around frantically while you both ran, and you became panicked for a separate reason. What were you running from? He eventually stopped in the middle of an alleyway after reassuring himself you were completely alone.
“Are you… okay?” You took in his disheveled look. His hair was sticking in every direction and he had large bags under his eyes. He looked awful. His eyes snapped to your face and he scanned it slowly.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
You blinked several times. “I know.”
“I… I’m going to have to kill people.” He looked down at his shaking hands. You reached for one and held it within your small grasp, rubbing it soothingly with your thumb.
“I know.” You whispered.
“I don’t…” He frowned frustratedly. “I didn’t…” He took a shaky breath and leaned his forehead on your shoulder which made you tense. When his body started to shake lightly you relaxed and started running a hand through his coarse locks. You knew he wasn’t talking for you, but for himself. So, you stayed like this until he was able to stand again. His eyes glistened from unshed tears, but you wouldn’t acknowledge them.
Instead, you smiled and wiped the stray streams left by the ones that had managed to leak down his face, and he furrowed his brows. He watched you move with calculating eyes and suddenly as if a great realization had struck him, his eyes widened. Before you had the chance to question him, he was leaning down to press his lips against yours and you were jumping back in surprise, smacking your head against the wall behind you.
“Fuck,” he reached toward your head but pulled his hand back to run through his hair stressfully. “I’m sorry. I just—I couldn’t not… I don’t know if I— I’m sorry. Fuck.”
You didn’t know what to say. So much was happening so fast, and you were already having a hard time processing your own feelings let alone adding his into the mix. But… In front of you was a broken boy. Someone scared to death that they might not have a future and they were looking at you like you were the answer to their pain.
And you couldn’t turn him away. Not now.
So, you grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him down for a proper kiss. It was sloppy, bad, and extremely obvious that you both lacked experience; but it was raw and real, and you don’t think you’ll ever experience this kind of passion where your heart wants to explode again in your life. He tightened his arms around you, and you didn’t attempt to fight back the tears that streamed down your cheeks. You weren’t even sure if you had true feelings for this boy yet, or if this was nothing more than a desperate send-off. But you did know that nothing had ever felt safer than this moment in his arms, and nothing had been colder than the moment he pulled away from your lips.
“I’m going to win,” he whispered. This time he spoke it like a promise, to who you didn’t know or care. It didn’t matter.
“I know,” you replied, kissing him for the third but not final time that evening. When you finally managed to drag yourself home it was way past your curfew, and you found yourself sneaking in through your bedroom window. In the morning you did your best to avoid the knowing glances from your parents.
You were standing amongst the familiar faces of girls you’d known since birth. Everyone was quiet today and the air was heavy as they waited for names to be drawn, even those who wished they were in Bakugou’s position were solemn. Your eyes remained on his broad shoulders as he kept up his usual bravado for the cameras; the girl beside him, however, looked as though she was going to vomit.
Eventually, the woman from the capital walked upon the stage and called out one of the boys’ name, Bakugou volunteered the moment they asked, and your heart rate spiked since it was closer to when he would be gone, possibly forever. It hurt. You didn’t even notice your own name being called until the girl beside you nudged you forward. You walked mindlessly, catching a panicked look from Bakugou who let his false confidence slip. You stepped onto the stage and gave a reassuring smile to your family and Midoriya because this was only until the real contender came forward, you were only a placeholder.
“Do we have any volunteers?”
Your smile started to slip at the ever-growing silence and the girl in front of you had her hands gripping her hair, breathing heavily. The cameras were on her, but nothing came from her mouth. You slowly processed what was happening and turned to Bakugou who appeared devoid of all emotion.
“Well, no female volunteers from district 2.” The woman smirked at you. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”
Shouts of protest arose as hands shot into the air, but the woman waved them away. There was a time and place and the audience hadn’t been punctual, so their volunteering wouldn’t be counted. It would be you going into the arena.
You bit your tongue till a metallic taste flooded your mouth in hopes the cameras wouldn’t notice your need to cry.
It was obvious to the country that you weren’t properly trained to compete. Your only advantage was being raised in district 2, but that still only had you scoring in the middle of the group. You were a below-average fighter by district 2 standards which put you at a greater disadvantage since that made you extremely unlikable in the capital’s eyes. If you were lucky, they would want to keep you around for curiosity’s sake, but more than likely they would want to be rid of you immediately.
If it wasn’t for Bakugou receiving the highest score and acting like a complete alpha male around the other tributes, you probably would be even worse off. Although he hadn’t spoken to you since you had stepped foot on the bullet train, he was still sticking close to your side anytime someone went near you. The entire capital was eating up his personality and you felt miserable at each event you partook in. If he wasn’t wasting his energy on you Bakugou really could have a chance at winning this year.
You knew it was selfish of you to reach out to him when he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Logically, you understood this was best for both of you, but tonight was possibly the last night you would ever have; you couldn’t spend it staring out the window of a foreign room that reeked of inhumane isolation. So, selfishly you stood outside his room with your fist raised trying to gather the courage to knock.
You took a breath, readying yourself for possible rejection when the door slid open and Bakugou stood before you silhouetted by a radiant, artificial moonlight. Your eyes went wide, and your face flushed as you started to stutter.
“Wha—what are you doing up?” You asked lamely.
“Pee.” He started looking you up and down before glancing down the hallway. “Why are you outside my door?”
You racked your brain for a not weird answer to why you had been standing there for going on fifteen minutes, but you had nothing. “You’ve been ignoring me…”
The words sounded so much worse when you said them aloud. You didn’t know how else to phrase it in the middle of the night when you were running on little sleep and high anxiety.
He checked the hall one more time before pulling you into his room. You felt your face turn a deep shade of red. Now really wasn’t the time to be freaking out about being in a boy’s bedroom.
“They have ears everywhere,” he whispered. “We can’t just… I can’t let them use you against me.”
You stared dumbfounded as he frustratingly sneered at his feet. You hadn’t even thought about them listening to your conversations before the games, but it made complete sense that they would look for information to manipulate the players. He really had thought of everything when preparing himself all these years. You nodded your head and glanced back to the door, taking a deep breath.
“This sucks.”
He snorted, hesitating before grabbing your hand. “Understatement of the fucking century.”
You looked at your interlocked fingers and let yourself relish in the warmth, rolling around the thought that this may be the last time you get to do this. You were surprised at the level of affection he displayed when he gently placed his forehead against yours.
“I’m not going to let you die, okay?” He whispered. You furrowed your brows and struggled to grasp at words before he was pulling away and ruffling his messy hair. “You should rest. We have a fucked day tomorrow.”
You nodded slowly, allowing him to guide you out by the small of your back. You said goodnight to each other quietly and once you crawled back into your too-large bed you felt your heart begin to twist as the implications of his words hit you.
One of you was going to die in the next few days, but it wasn’t going to be him. You weren’t the one who had prepared for this day and you weren’t going to let him waste his life trying to protect you. He had a chance and you didn’t.
Bakugou could think whatever he wanted, but he wasn’t going to die for you. Not if you could help it.
Bakugou held your arm gently, rubbing some sort of capital healing salve on the cut you’d just received on your bicep. You were both covered in grime, a layer of sweat coating your bodies and slicking your hair into wild styles. Splotches of blood were smeared across his face and you’d been too exhausted to think about who it belonged to anymore. It didn’t matter.
He dug through his knapsack and pulled out a roll of bandages to tie around your wound, fastening it till you winced. You took in the deep circles under his eyes, the gauze wrapped around his leg, and bruises along his jaw. You grabbed his wrist as he reached for more supplies—his supplies. He’d been wasting everything on you since you’d arrived there.
“Bakugou… we can’t keep—”
“Don’t.” He stood, tossing everything back into the bag. He handed you the small daggers that’d just been used to slice your arm and some dried meat. “These are yours now. Bitch barely had anything on her.”
You shivered at the mention of the girl from district 1. The crazy look in her eyes as she came at you full sprint with a bloodthirsty grin. You were as good as dead if it wasn’t for Bakugou…
A cannon went off. In the sky, a boy’s dangerous smirk flashed briefly. Bakugou let out a relieved breath—it was someone he’d tussled with early in the games who’d inflicted the only serious injury he had. You also felt relief that the strongest competitor he faced was out of the arena, simultaneously it made your stomach churn that you were both getting elated over other’s dying. What had this place done to you?
“There’s only a few left now…” You pointed out while rotating your fists with the knives in your grasp, trying to mimic how the girl had moved with such ease.
“Yeah,” a smile spread across Bakugou’s face. “There’s only two more and then it’s just—”
“Just us?” You raised a brow. Bakugou looked at you for a moment before sneering and turning away. He finished packing things up and tossed the bag on his back. “Bakugou we need to split up before we have to—”
“I can’t have you wandering around here yourself. You’ll humiliate our district.” He growled. You took a deep breath because that’s the same excuse he’s been using since you entered the arena. “I’ll figure it out…”
“There’s nothing to figure out Bakugou.” You rolled your eyes. “One of us has to die and—”
“Shut up!” He shouted aggressively and you just sighed dejectedly. He ran a hand roughly through his hair and looked you in the eyes. “We’re going to the lake. We need more water.”
You looked after him crestfallen as he stomped ahead of you. You wished you could wrap your arms around him and console him, but there was nothing you could say for comfort. There was nothing to make this situation better. You wanted to walk in the opposite direction, but you didn’t have the strength to leave—mentally or physically. You were too scared and too selfish.
You hoped these few moments together—this short time—would be worth it.
You had been preparing yourself for this moment since that girl was too scared to take the place as the true tribute from your district. You knew you were going to die, whether at your own hand or by someone in the arena, you knew it had to be you. However, mental preparations didn’t make facing a reality like this any easier.
You could tell the moment you started dying. There was never a second you questioned it. The pain you had created in your upper abdomen from the knives Bakugou had given you slowly faded as all sensations lifted from your body. Your limbs grew heavier by the second, and your mind was becoming muddled as you had to consciously fight to get the thoughts you needed.
The boy hovering above you, who you connected to be Bakugou, was pressing down on your stomach. He looked so beautiful. Was it weird to think he looked beautiful with mud and dirt smeared across his cheeks, his hair slick with days of grease and skin covered in blood that wasn’t his own? You wished he’d stop crying though.
Why was the cute boy crying?
Your mind continued to grow foggy and your vision started to weaken. Suddenly there were two Bakugou’s blurred and you felt like giggling, but couldn’t manage, coughing instead. Crimson liquid splattered on the boy’s forearms and he froze with widened and frantic eyes.
This boy was really cute. What was his name again?
Your arm felt so heavy and numb. You wanted to tell the boy to get off your arm so that you could move, but again you couldn’t find your voice. He was saying something, but you couldn’t hear so you tried smiling instead. He looked so sad. You wished he would smile.
The boy… Bakugou. That was his name.
Bakugou started shouting something in the sky, which you thought was silly because the sky can’t talk. His eyebrow was creased, and you somehow knew he was being really loud even without hearing his volume. You wanted to know what he was saying, but everything was just so dull—colors, sounds, feelings—nothing was right. You couldn’t remember a lot and that really frustrated you, but you felt something poking through the fog like there was something really important you needed to do.
You felt water on your cheeks and were confused. Was it raining? No… you were crying.
You focused on the boy—Bakugou—who was talking to himself frantically as he dug through a backpack seated beside him and words started to flood into your mind. They seemed silly since you don’t remember much about this guy, but your chest ached in a different sort of pain and you decided to fight past it get them out.
“Bakugou,” you croaked, and he quickly moved to you, starting to talk rapidly and poke at various parts of you. “I.. love…”
That’s the most you could weakly get out before your coughing fit ensued. It seemed like enough because the boy—B something—seemed to freeze for a moment before a serious look took over his face. You managed a weak smile. His eyes looked so determined and cute.
You saw him reach for a knife lying beside you in the grass and felt panic flood through you. You wanted to do something to stop him from whatever he seemed set on, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t do anything.
You saw him give an ugly scream at the sky, unshed tears shining in his eyes, as he lifted the knife into the air.
Then the world faded to black.
You felt a dull ache spread across your abdomen as consciousness filtered into your body. You blinked slowly, squinting at the bright lights that bounced against the pure white walls and curtains surrounding you. You fought for a semblance of an idea on where you could be, but nothing came to you. As you tried to sit up, pain shot through you and you winced, letting out a soft moan in agony. It was then that you realized how many IVs were attached to your wrist.
Where were you?
A distant shouting came from the hallway that gradually increased in volume. It was an unmistakable sound.
Bakugou.
“You said I could fucking see her.” He yelled. You heard a quiet voice attempting to calm him, but he cut them off. “I don’t give a shit. I did your fucking interview so where the hell is the room!?”
Your door was thrown open seconds later and Bakugou stormed in wearing a capital tailored suit. It was enough for you to question the realism of where you’d woken up with your already foggy mind slow to process everything. He was at your side quickly, throwing his arms around you and pulling you close. You winced at the embrace and he immediately let go.
“Are you okay? What hurts? When did you wake up? Do you know what they’re giving you? Where the fuck is the chart… fuck I’m so happy you’re here. I thought they were lying to me and—”
“Am I dead?”
He halted his search around the room for your medical chart and just stared at you. A weak smile formed on his face. “No.”
“I vividly remember dying…” You observed your surroundings again, finally piecing them together to form a hospital room. “Did… did we win?”
He came back to your bedside, carefully cradling your face in his hands and bringing your forehead against his. “We lived. I figured it out.”
“Bakugou… what… what happened?”
He sighed. “I just… said some things and threatened some people.”
You pushed him back by the shoulders and held him at a distance. “You threatened some people? What the hell do you mean you—”
“Look, I did what I had to.” He took your hands into his and squeezed them lightly. “I don’t regret it.”
You regarded him carefully, scanning his face for answers but still too dizzy to do complex thinking. You nodded your head, but your stomach was in knots as various consequences came to your mind. It was child’s play for them to make people’s lives miserable, you had both found that out the hard way these past weeks, they could really hurt him if he had done something stupid.
“How did you—"
Someone in a long coat entered the room to check you over and even though they ‘encouraged’ Bakugou to leave the room he very aggressively denied their suggestion. Even though all of you were still in pain the doctor had okayed you for an incredibly unprofessional discharge which had left Bakugou eagerly carrying you out of the room. You realized, as they failed to prescribe you painkillers, that this was the beginning of the neglect the capital had in store.
You were forced into an uncomfortable outfit and Bakugou ensured you it was temporary for the short trip to the bullet train. It was tight in all the wrong areas, something you had a hunch was intentional, and from the fierce rage in Bakugou’s eyes, he felt the same. You were ushered to the train and Bakugou ignored anyone asking questions, having already faced an interview that morning he told you to do the same. You had a hard time following what was happening and could only focus on how you really needed a nap.
Once you were safely on the train that would take you home you were able to change into comfortable clothing and plop onto a couch where Bakugou was anxiously waiting. He still had large bags under his eyes, and you wondered if he had been able to sleep at all since the games had ended. You should probably both take a nap. Instead, you asked him to play the interview he kept mentioning so you could see the end of this year’s hunger games and finally understand what the hell was going on. Finally, you could jog some of your memories and learn why you’re not dead.
He was hesitant but found the interview repeatedly playing the main television because of course, the capital would be so kind to them. He explained that the game makers wanted just him for the interview to really sell the district 2 bad boy love story the capital idiots had become so obsessed over. You were taken aback by the statement but didn’t know where to begin asking for an explanation. You hoped the recording could speak for itself.
It was a surreal experience watching yourself nearly die. The memories of your body going numb and you losing grasp of reality had you subconsciously curling into Bakugou’s side. You saw yourself give a love confession and you turned red because you hadn’t remembered that happening. You felt your eyes burn with unshed tears as you watched Bakugou whisper your name and gently shake you, begging you to respond, calling you an asshole for confessing and then leaving him like that. You wanted to punch him when he started cursing at the game makers before picking up a knife off the ground and aiming it toward himself. Then the screen went black and it was just Bakugou and Caesar.
He fabricated a story about how they had barely known each other as kids, but he hadn’t really thought about her since then. He obviously had never imagined a fluke happening where she’d become a tribute and it wasn’t until the arena that his feelings started to develop. The confession from you just kind of finalized it for him and he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it anymore—it wouldn’t be worth living. The entire audience was clapping and cooing. You were watching with a mouth half-open because Bakugou was one hell of an actor when he needed to be.
“It’s not like it was a complete lie,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. You still had a hard time believing this was real. That you were allowed this moment of peace after everything you’d been through.
“Which part?” You mumbled.
“Loving you,” he shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been worth coming back after figuring that out.”
You rolled your eyes, looking up at him as he gave you a dopey smile. “You’re an idiot.”
“Maybe,” he said as he leaned down to kiss you. You placed a hand on the side of his face, holding him there. Your heart raced uncontrollably, and you knew this was it. That whatever was going to come next would be worth it. You had faced hell together and no matter what the capital tried to do you’d be able to face it if you had each other.