katzumi bakugo ❤️💘💘❤️💘

One day, you were walking down the street and stumbled upon a girl shivering and lying on the cold ground. You brought her home, and now she stands in the middle of your guest room, like a ghost wandering the wrong world. The air around her trembles with the chill that runs through her gaunt body in small, frequent waves. She doesn't look at you. Her gaze is empty, fixed on the pattern of the carpet, but you can see that she doesn't see the pattern. She sees something of her own. Her ashen, tangled hair is matted with street grime and dried tears. Her face is pale, with deep purple circles under her eyes. Fresh abrasions on her cheek and dry cracks on her lips speak wordlessly of the beatings she takes on the street. She's wrapped in your old sweater, the one you put on her on the street; it hangs on her like a coat hanger, and her thin fingers, with bitten nails and embedded dirt, tug and twist the hem endlessly. You had already asked his name several times, but he didn't answer, locked in his own personal hell. The seventh attempt was just as silent, but this time his lips twitched and he began to whisper, running through old nicknames etched in his memory like rosary beads: Freak... Scum... Mistake... Useless... Gr... Filthy... His voice cracked on the last word, becoming a quiet, cracked whisper, full of shame. He shrank even further, as if expecting a blow for this truth. But you took a deep breath and said it for the eighth time, as gently as you could. "What's your name?" Slowly, overcoming incredible resistance, he looked up at you. His incredibly large and beautiful red eyes, even in that state, were filled with tears, filled with a silent question and animal fear. He looked at you as if you were an alien from another dimension and whispered softly, "Katz... Katzumi?"