#Kissing.prompt

[shans-writings]

For writing prompts 26 and Togachaco pls, I loved your other pieces!

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

Togachaco + …as an apology.

Toga felt like she had been running her entire life.

In the middle of the battlefield, Toga saw the moments of her childhood and adolescence in front of her eyes, passing like cars on the highway. Her feet did not stop while she went downhill, 'cause at full speed it was almost like flying. Her hands cut the enemies bodies as she passed and Toga, full of energy and purpose, danced on her descent, light body and hair waving in the wind like a flag. She ran and ran, her only hobby since she was little.

Some thought she did it to flee from the pain, to flee from the gazes of others, to flee from that world that only caused death and hopelessness in her young heart. No one knew that running like she did took something else. How did you manage to escape for so many years by yourself? When the silence becomes a guest by tour side and you risk going blind from the darkness all around you, how do you stay sane?

The answer was love.

Toga saw what they didn't. She watched the world with a heart overflowing with fervor, with the enthusiasm of a bird of prey falling from the heights, free at last. It was love for her, love for their lives, love for the figures that moved in the pavement like dancers in the greatest theater of the whole world. Toga advanced on tiptoe, enjoying the air against her flushed cheeks.

Meanwhile, Ochako screamed from afar. Toga ran and ran, killed and killed, fighting her way to catch up with the heroe.

There were too many enemies in that battle zone, but that didn't matter. More than once in her past Toga had been one against many. It was different this time tho. In the distance, she thought she could see the glow of Dabi's fire, hear the voice of Spinner in his mind. She knew that even Tomura was leaving his soul and body on that battle, for himself, for the life they shared not so long ago. She knew that Izuku was doing his best to give them a world to live in, to return to, crossing the sky like a shooting star every few minutes.

Toga would never be alone again, she would never feel the way she had felt in her parents' house again. No more helpless nights and days of hiding. This time, Toga was running for them.

Still, there's a limit to what love can accomplish.

What the girl did not see was the state of her own body. By the time she got to Ochako, it was hard not to withdraw from looking at Toga. Ochako had never seen her this damaged before. She could barely stay on her feet, she could barely hold the knives in her hands and keep the horde of villains on the line. Ochako had no words. Her mind went back to the past, remembering Toga's with her bright smile and her school uniform.

For a second, the battle around her slowed down. It was as if Ochako had been seeing everything her whole life with foggy eyes. With Toga by her side, it had become easy to breathe, easy to see the world with clarity. She knew now something she hadn't known before.

Without realizing it, some others had stopped for a few seconds —in the middle of a war, mind you— to watch them fight. Toga and Ochako moved towards and around each other in a synchronized dance, twisting behind the enemies like the bees surrounding the flowers in May. Where Ochako's foot rose, Toga's fell. Where one elbow retreated, the next came. There was no break or breach, no wasted movements, no wasted time.

Later, Tsuyu would say that Toga saw the blow coming down. It was directed at Ochako. The hero would not be able to dodge it in time. Not with how wounded she already was.

One breath. No doubt.

Toga threw herself to the attack, taking the full blow to her chest in exchange for her knife buried in the enemie's heart. And Ochako, who had been fighting until then, spun in midair to watch Toga drop to her knees in slow motion.

Toga had been running her entire life.

Now her eyes felt heavy and her mouth felt dry. Something had broken inside her, but she didn't seem to realized it. Too distracted watching Ochako coming to her side. With the sweet privilege of having her head resting on Ochako's lap, she didn't understand why...

Ochako's tears fell and slid down Toga's cheeks. Toga didn't want to see her cry. And why? Where had her smile gone? Wasn't she the one hero who wanted to see them all smiling? So why was she crying now?

“Keep your eyes open, Toga-chan. Talk to me. Help is coming, okay? Help is coming”

Help? Toga tried to get up the best she could, verifying that Ochako wasn't hurt.

She was of course, but it was nothing serious anymore. Even when they were at war, Toga forgot the state of her own body. All that existed was Ochako's gentle hands combing through her hair, cleaning with the handkerchief Twice had given Toga the dirt on her cheeks and nose.

“Ochaco-chan is... she's crying but... but I don't want to... I don't want to see...”

She was finding it hard to breathe, her lungs already failing. Ochako let out another sob before managing to compose her face to give Toga a weak smile.

“I'm not. See? Everything is okay. They're already coming.”

Yes, someone was coming. Toga could feel them in the rumbling of the earth. But she was tired... And Ochako's arms were warm, gentle. Toga was closing her eyes, leaning against Ochako's chest. She heard Ochako calling out her name. Toga, Toga, Toga. The villain's heart beat at the ryhtm of those words, dancing happily in her chest. So many years running... she had never imagined falling into Ochako's arms in the end. It made her happy. Someone she loved loved her back. Wasn't that what every teenager wanted? What more could she ask for? What more could she need?

“I want to make ... Ochako-chan smile.”

The last thing she ever felt was a hot touch on his forehead. Delicate, the sigh of a hummingbird's wings. She barely registered that it was Ochako's kiss, but her childish smile lit up on her face anyway and there it stayed. She knew it was an apology, but Toga didn't feel there was anything to forgive or apologize for.

For someone who had been running her entire life, Toga had died strangely happy.

At last, she had died at home.

[shans-writings]

Shigadabi and 4

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

Shigadabi + where it hurts.

Every morning, when Dabi went in to bathe in the common shower that the League had in its new facilities, the smell of soap and urine hit his senses. The shower had a leak, the water always came out too cold and it tasted like dirt. The floor was slippery. The handles were about to fall off. The product they were using to wash their hair was removing the black color from Dabi's roots. Also, when toweling off, he always noticed how stiff his burns were.

With the door closed and the key locked, Dabi used to stand in the middle of the bathroom thinking about all this, going over what he was supposed to do that day. With his mind filled with noise, he defied the emptiness of the room like the roar of flames.

This time, it was someone totally different who stood in the middle of that room and occupied his mind completely.

Dabi had his eyes closed. He couldn't see him, but he didn't need it at all. His hands were precise and icy, his fingertips were callused. He could feel his breath against his bare shoulder, the way he treated the wounds and spread the cream over after disinfecting them. He could feel one of his bare feet brushing against his left ankle, the tips of his white hair tickling his back.

Tomura was quite close. Enough for Dabi to warm his own body a little on purpose, tempting Tomura to come closer. The touch against his skin shouldn't be too unpleasant that way. Dabi knew that Tomura was enjoying it the way he was, even if it was because they weren't talking at all. Well, maybe. Who knows. Dabi had already spent months by his side, but his boss seemed impossible to understand. Sincere as a child, more transparent than any glass, and yet Dabi did not understand the pieces in front of him, he did not understand how they fit together to form Tomura Shigaraki.

“Tsk. Watch out there,” Tomura had forcefully pulled one of his staples inadvertently. That hadn't hurt, but Dabi didn't want to tear the flesh too much, not unnecessarily.

Tomura didn't even answer him. He continued to work without Dabi looking at him, his nails sometimes scraping against the healthy flesh of his chest, the one in which he still preserved sensitivity. Dabi was still because Tomura had warned him that in order to help him, Dabi should not make any sudden movements, he should not even think in an unpredictable way, mainly because a bad synchrony between them could cause a total decay of his physical being. Dabi, since he liked his life, did not urge to move at all. And since he liked something more than his life in that room, he didn't mind that Tomura took his time either. He hadn't even thought until that moment that someone like Shigaraki could be so gentle, so delicate in his gestures. Again, he must have suspected, for only a man of detail could have successfully guided them to where they were.

Dabi was aware that he was giving Tomura more credit than he deserved. With his eyes closed, he could fully feel the expanse of his surroundings, from the water that trickled down the walls to Tomura's bristling skin, because he must have been cold. The whole white room, small and cramped, dirty and old, gave off an icy breath. It was the silence that bit his elbows, it was the stillness that put his nerves on edge. And among that unnerving sea, Tomura stood like a beacon in the fog.

“I'm going to replace the loose staples now. Do you want to take a break before?"

Slowly, Dabi blinked and opened his eyes. Tomura was looking down at him, locks drooping over red eyes. Did he want to rest? Not really. He was too used to routine. By doing it himself it would have been faster, but... Dabi nodded, accepting the offering. Tomura leaned against the wall, folding his arms as he watched Dabi light a cigarette. They both knew that his lungs were on the brink of collapsing from smoking so much. Not that it mattered. Dabi wouldn't survive for too long anyway.

On the meanwhile, Tomura watched him smoke and Dabi glanced at him, pretending he didn't. In the moments when their gazes touched, Dabi exhaled all the smoke that had been holding in his lungs and Tomura smiled, his face disfigured by the cloud that separated them. Dabi was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet.

“A long break, then,” Tomura ended up moving closer. Dabi saw the smoke going up as Tomura prepared the bandages. He had efficient, scarred hands. “Does it hurt?”

If it hurt? No, not really. Tomura pressed a point on his neck with the index of his right hand. Dabi's eyelids dropped instantly.

“No,” Dabi felt Tomura's finger move, following the pattern at his throat. Dabi barely knew what was happening, too focused on the sensation.

“And here?” Tomura's voice filled the space, opening air gaps in the smoke patterns.

“No,” Dabi repeated. Tomura kept climbing up to his chin and with little force, he made Dabi look at him. Those red eyes scanned him mercilessly. Oh, such eyes just for himself.

Tomura used her other hand to cradle the back of Dabi's neck and Dabi pushed the cigarette out of the way. When Tomura brought their faces closer, a white curtain formed between them and the rest of the world. There was no tenderness in what they did, nor love as shown in the movies. Whatever they were doing, it was much more cruel and raw, like one thorn against another, like the embrace between fire and ashes. It was Dabi's desire tattooed on his expression, Tomura's hunger on the unsatisfied curve of his mouth. If something hurt them, it wasn't on the outside. They carried a sick animal inside that devoured them night after night, and they recognized that kind of suffering in the other when they looked at each other across the room, even for an instant.

Dabi used his free hand. He buried his fingers on the back of Tomura's hair, pulling him towards his lips. The cigarette fell to the ground. Tomura ended up sitting with his legs spread over Dabi, his fists clenched against the wall behind him, his teeth engaged against the tongue of whom he should be healing, not kissing. Dabi sat with his hands on Tomura's hips, anchoring them to reality among their madness. When they finished taking what they wanted, Dabi leaned his forehead against his boss's shoulder, breathing heavily.

It wasn't long before someone started knocking on the door, claiming that it was time for them to finish. Dabi laughed, helping Tomura to his feet and beginning to place the new staples on his body. He watched as Tomura wiped his lips with the back of his arm and straightened his hair.

He had a feeling that they would end up doing that much more often.