Start Counting, Katsuki

Toga left him alone after that. It wasn't like Katsuki was going to interact with her anyways, he was still frozen in shock. His mind dipped while his thoughts suggested this was it. Toga had giggled lightly when she laid him back down on his messy futon, the bitter wetness covered his cold, naked body, his mind not even registering the lukewarm squish as he shifted his weight.

Why didn't I push her away?

He pushed his face into his pillow, the cotton felt too soft, too caring, that he wanted to scream and thrash, wanted to get rid of that warmth. That feeling was just a ruse, all just some big fucking plan he fell into.

Did I want this?

Katsuki swallowed harshly, his throat still raw from his screams of pain earlier. His mind threw questions at him, demanding answers or statements or confirmation… He wasn't sure how to respond. Maybe he did want this, getting kidnapped, having to be cared for like a toddler, somehow caring for the villains. The caring, comforting swell in his chest and lungs and heart was always so suffocating, yet, he welcomed it and craved more.

Do I deserve this?

…That wasn't even a question anymore. It was more of a statement, more of a fact.

Toga had closed the door with a slam, her small giggles and coos echoed down the hall to, what Katsuki assumed was, Twice's bedroom, his door closing softer. He bit his lip hard, his canine cracking the dry skin easily. He felt the small wound open into the chilly air and he trembled, sticking out his tongue to lick at the blood that beaded.

Blood. That's what Toga's quirk relied on, right? That's the only reason she would come back some days covered in red, her tank and needles always full. The only reason why Magne complained constantly on her assigned laundry days, stains of food and dirt were already hard enough to get rid of on clothing.

She used her quirk to appear as Deku… Was Deku okay? What happened with him? Did anyone see Toga?

Is this how you want this to end? Start counting down, Katsuki.

He took a shaky breath, his thoughts now focusing on the growing hunger in his stomach. He can go longer like this, he's starved before. This is nothing…

Start counting…

"One," he starts with a small voice.

"Two," his stomach grumbles and he gags, the feeling already making him sick.

"Three," a small warp gate appeared at his feet, a scarred hand dropping a plastic container with curry and rice and a Gatorade bottle.