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Third person pov

"You have to trust." Kirishima's voice breathed, a whisper, a distant memory, a stab to the chest, a gut-wrenching pain she could hardly bear. "Harper, open up to everyone. Tell them the truth. S-Stop pushing them away and blocking them out. Let them be there for you. You have to let them be there. You c...can't get stuck on this. You can't let th-this be the end, alright?"

Harper's heart pounded in her ears, so deafening she could hardly hear anything aside from it. Her waking up had not been in a jolt or a scream. It wasn't sudden in the least. There was no thrashing around like she was fighting something. The way she came to was slow. A very gradual readmittance into consciousness, her mind and her quirk slowly ticking up, up, up into coherent thoughts. It had taken time for things to snap into place. Now, she couldn't breathe. Air was stolen from her lungs, and horror had settled like a stone in the bottom trenches of her heart.

The pain was washing through her like water through a fountain, bursting forth in a steady rush. Kirishima's hands were wrapped around hers, so alive and warm, but not for long. He was covered in blood, the crimson liquid bubbling from his lips just as quickly as the IV as pumping it back in. He had a towel on his shoulder that he'd lean into, wiping it away, streaking it across his lips. It was an endless cycle held onto by the boy and his quirk, which worked overtime to keep his grotesque wound hardened. It was the only thing keeping him here. After that, he'd be gone.

A world without Kirishima did not seem feasible. It wasn't something Harper had thought about, just like she hadn't ever thought about a world without Eric. Yet here she was, her brother gone for years. Was the same thing going to happen here? Kirishima was so present and real, and the thought of him fading with time felt nothing short of impossible. To wake up and him... not be there. Was that possible? Could she handle it if it was? What was... what was Harper supposed to do? 

Harper felt like she was in limbo. Kirishima wasn't gone. He was right here, sitting in front of her, smiling sadly, talking, crying. His hands were still warm, squeezing her smaller ones reassuringly and with familiar softness. His voice was the same deep timbre she'd always known it to be. To think he was going to die-- was practically already dead. His fate was painfully sealed, unmoving. Harper felt like she was falling. There was panic, swirling in her throat, tightening, making it harder to breathe and even harder to think. Her quirk was shrilly screaming in warning, sensing its user being ripped apart at the seams.

There had been a sort of 'oh, shit' moment that had bowled her over when she'd first woken up, and she had known as she pried her eyes open that whatever was waiting for her wasn't going to be good. It had been right. Her quirk was right, because of course it was. Harper stared at Kirishima with wide eyes, wondering morbidly if she was going to survive something so tragic again. She liked to think she was stronger now than she had been back then, but forcing herself to listen, her heart stuttering in her chest unevenly... she wasn't so sure.

"Harper." Kirishima's voice held an uncharacteristic snap, the undertone of a wheeze staining the tone. She flinched, eyes flying up to his red ones and away from the gaping wound he bore on his side. The static faded slightly at the familiar, earnest gaze. Kirishima's expression was set like steel, apologetic and firm. Harper felt air enter her lungs in a cold rush. Reality wrapped around her like a vice. "Harper. I need you to snap out of it and let me know you hear me. I need you to get your shit together. You have to!"

Harper almost wanted to laugh, everything in her bordering on hysterically incredulous. Her panic was a swirling mass she could do little to combat. Harper was good at keeping a level head. It was usually what she did best, but right now, sitting here... she was falling apart. Crumbling, images of her baby cousin crying, of Bakugo's face twisted in pain, of Kirishima shoving Dabi out of the way. They all bombarded her mercilessly, too much and all too fast. Now Kirishima was dying. She'd gotten kidnapped, and he was dying.

Kirishima felt helplessly cruel as he sat there, forcing her to see him in such a state. Harper held his hands in a death grip, but she wasn't hearing him. He had to make her listen. He didn't know for how much longer he could sit here. Every minute that ticked by was another bout of haze added to his own mind. The pain was numbing, his quirk a throbbing and consistent ache in his side. Sharp pains warned him that he wasn't going to be able to hold on forever, black eating at the edges of his vision. He blinked it back as best he could, determination forcing him to breathe through the pain and stay awake.

This was something he had to do. It hurt. His heart hurt, watching Harper spiral further and further away from him. He just had to grab her and pull her up one last time, and then he could go. He could go and the hurt would stop. It hurt so bad. It hurt so, so, so bad-- so much worse than the injuries he'd gotten during training. This was an agony he wanted to end. He was okay with dying if it stopped this, but he had to do this first. Even if Harper didn't deserve to see him like this, even if he had already resigned himself to his fate. 

There was a finality in knowing you were going to die. Kirishima did not have time to cope and mourn himself. To cry, scream, or beg. This was happening, and by god did he have to hurry the hell up. He was about to eat it. Die. Be gone. Six feet under, murdered, obliterated, his existence nothing but a memory. That hurt, and he hated it, but it was going to happen. He had to take control of something. He had to do something good before he left. Had to make an impact-- a change. He could be angry with things when he was gone. He refused to have regrets.

Harper's thoughts whirred. Kirishima was asking-- begging-- her to listen. Harper sat back a moment and questioned who the fuck she was, feeling genuinely dumfounded with herself and the situation. Her identity felt questioned for no reason she could discern. This was surreal. An out of body experience, too ludicrous to believe. Was this real? Kirishima was a constant presence. Someone who'd looked at her brash and unapproachable nature and laughed, siphoning her trust bit by bit until he held every ounce. How could he just... die. Kirishima just didn't seem like the type.

"Harper." Kirishima prodded, more desperate and insistent than before. Harper stared at him, expression slack as her muddled mind skipped and tried to catch up. Fuck. Fuck, okay, she couldn't check out right now. She couldn't dissociate and... she had to be here. Fuck. He was dying. Alright, alright. No. Just-- okay, okay. This wasn't okay, but Kirishima was asking her to listen. He always listened to her. She always listened to him. He was counting on that right now, and she couldn't let him down. Not like this. Not this time.

A deep breath, this one harsher than the last. Harper struggled to rationalize, yanking her panic and fear back. She beat it down just like she always did. She wrangled it for the time being, focusing on Kirishima's eyes. He wanted her to listen. He'd come all the way over here to tell her something, and she had to fucking listen. She had to.

You have to get your shit together.

You have to get your shit together.

Harper, get your fucking goddamn shit together. 

"O-Okay." She sputtered out. Tears were tearing down her cheeks, leaving clean tracks through the streaks of dust and ash on her face. Harper gasped like she was emerging from a pool of water after holding her breath for too long. She squeezed Kirishima's hands, expression settling. She was Harper Rye. What the fuck was she doing? Kirishima was counting on her sorry ass. Putting his faith in her ability to pull it together. And she was just sitting here while he suffered. It was pathetic. Harper did not want to be pathetic right now. She shook her head. He had enough on his plate without her panicking. "Alright. I'm listening. I-I'm listening, Kirishima."

Harper ignored the drag of exhaustion and the scream of her quirk, so agonized and loud. She focused on him-- on his emotions, so positive despite the situation.

Kirishima beamed a bloody grin that made her heart wrench. She forced herself to give a smile in return, as hard as it was, and the surprise and satisfaction she felt rush through the redhead was nearly laughable. This was the last fucking thing she wanted to do. Harper was tired, and this the closest friend she'd had in a very, very long time. Losing him was going to hit her so hard she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to get back up again. But until he was actually gone, she needed to stay calm. He was counting on her. She could feel it just as surely as she could feel her own heartbeat, thrumming hard and fast in her chest. Kirishima scooted closer, chair scraping the tile.

Harper nodded and fortified herself. Strengthened her crumbling walls, even if it was temporary. Harper had to keep her shit together. She could do that. She was great at it, and she could do it. Kirishima had saved her. He'd saved her life, and Dabi's, and... and she had to be here. Harper refused to be anywhere else. This was not the sort of thing one missed, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much she wanted to scream.

"You can't blame yourself. I-I don't... don't care what you think happened, o-or how you th-think you cou...c...could've avoided it. It is not your fault." Kirishima's voice choked out. Harper stared at him with wide eyes, heart thundering at the words. Her brain forced her to process, hissing at her to keep it together. "It isn't. It isn't your fault. I know you and I know you're already blaming yourself. Don't. Blame the people who took you. Blame the villains, or Mr. Compress, but not yourself. You didn't do this."

Harper's mouth felt dry. He really did know her too well, didn't he? This was so messed up. She should be comforting him, but what could she say? It was a punch in the face to know the last thing he wanted to do before he went was talk to her. Reassure her. She didn't deserve it. Harper didn't deserve someone like Kirishima, yet he was here nonetheless. She was grateful, and angry-- not at him, but at... at this! It was eating at her. If she'd managed to kill Atsuhiro all those years ago, would things be any different? Would Katsuki still have his foot? Would Kota be less traumatized? Would Kirishima be fucking dying? These questions spiraled and spiraled. It felt like she'd taken a wrong turn at all the most crucial moments. Missed out-- hadn't done what she was supposed to or could've. 

"Do you blame Bakubro?" Kirishima wheezed out, drawing her attention. She blinked out of her thoughts, expression flaring. She had to stay present. "Listen to me, dammit. Believe me!"

"No! He didn't-" Harper blurted out. Kirishima squeezed her hands, eyes set in a glare. It wasn't the mean kind, but it was piercing. He was dying. These were his last words, and god, how fucked up was that? Harper felt something in her darken. Kirishima wasn't... he wasn't supposed to... not like this. Not here. Not now. Not at her expense, dammit!

"If it wasn't his fault, it wasn't yours either." He wheezed, coughing a little at the blood in his throat. Harper felt more tears spill over, her heart aching. His words reached, and she welcomed them with open arms. She had to listen. Listen, listen, listen. She couldn't bottle herself up right now-- she had to stay open. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, dammit! "Trust me. Please, please, please trust me. You have to, please. This is the last thing I want to do before I go, so you have to believe me. Don't hold yourself accountable for someone else's bullshit. You never have before. Let the people who did it take the blame. If you're mad, be mad at the villains."

Harper took a few deep breaths. His thoughts flowed into her, truth wrapped around them so surely that she couldn't stop herself from choking out a sob. The weight of her guilt lessened slightly. Not entirely, because she knows she could've done more. If she had kept a clearer head, maybe. But she hadn't, and it had already happened. And Kirishima was right. Harper didn't blame Katsuki, and how could she blame herself? She wasn't hypocritical, too matter-of-fact to accept that. Too smart to be deluded. The villains had kidnapped them, cruel, and unforgiving. The villain All Might had faced off against had orchestrated something bigger than all of them.

Kirishima was a hero. Harper could feel his wish to save and protect, and she'd always been able to. It's why he made friends so easily. He wanted to put a smile on every face possible, and Harper was no exception. He was doing it right now, too. Trying to preserve her future. What about his? Harper's tears flowed faster, spite towards the man who'd put the hole in him to begin with growing as she stared at him. She grounded herself in his red irises. This was her friend. He was seldom ever wrong when it came to advice. 

Be mad at the villains. Harper could do that. She could do that for him. She would do that for him.

"Kirishima." Harper's voice trembled pathetically, and she cursed herself. Maybe this could be her free pass to be upset. Kirishima grinned back at her, but his eyes were so tired. So, so tired. He was slipping away, and she couldn't grasp him the way she used to be able to anymore. He was falling so fast-- too fast for her to keep up. 

Harper's stomach twisted. This was the worst case scenario in her mind. A nightmare so much worse than anything she could've envisioned, and she was mad. Mad at herself, and at the villains. He was asking her not to take this on herself. Listening to him, hearing him beg her to put her anger outside of herself... she couldn't deny how right he was. It hurt, and she hated herself partially for it. But she hadn't kidnapped them. Harper knew she wasn't the bad one here, and though it was comforting, the burning fire eating her alive hurt too much for her to acknowledge that fact right now.

Kirishima watched her. He was getting through, and he felt light and airy. Things were fading out. It was shit, and he didn't want to leave her like this. It was cruel, but he had to let her know these things. 

"Don't let D...Dabi blame h-himself either. Be there for ea-each other-- for a...all of th...em. Let th-them in." Kirishima insisted. Harper didn't trust herself to speak, nodding instead. Kirishima gathered himself up. He could do this. He was gonna do this shit, and then he'd cheer Harper on from wherever he ended up next. "Don't shut them out, alright? They love you and you love them. Let them know that. It's not Dabi's fault. It could've been anyone else there-- Sero, or even Stain, and I still would've done it. It was more of a reflex."

"A-Alright." Harper breathed out. That part she could get behind and understand. Her brain took it and processed it with ease, more accepting of the familiarity. She felt sick with relief knowing Dabi was okay. She felt sick with horror that Kirishima was not. She did not blame either of them. Harper felt like she was scrambling. When was the last time she lost herself so surely?

She hated that they were having this conversation. She'd never been one for heart-to-hearts. Harper was such a blatantly grump and emotionally distanced person. This wasn't something she was good at, but Kirishima pushed on past it. Harper was glad. Selfishly relieved on some level that she got to talk to him one more time and get his thoughts one last time. It was sickening. It was a relief. It was a living nightmare. It was a dead one. It was everything tragic in this world shoved into a couple of exchanged words, and Harper was going to be sick.

"Do you remember what I said? About trust?" Kirishima croaked, throat clogged. Harper nodded, clenching her eyes shut and trying to get her lungs to work. Trust. Such a fickle thing that she had so little of. Kirishima opened his mouth to speak, choking a little when no words came out. His thoughts pushed past it. "I want you to open up. Go talk to someone-- Hound Dog or someone else. I... I know how hesitant you are about therapists, but you're going to be okay, and something like that won't happen again. It's okay to have more friends and to open yourself up. Our classmates are not going to reject you. You're going to be okay, but don't isolate yourself. You can't do that after I'm gone, okay? Let them in. They want in. You know they do better than anyone else. Let yourself have that."

Harper stared at him. He'd been pushing her for a while to open up to their classmates. It seemed like such a minor thing compared with what they were faced with right now in this moment. Since Sero was gone and they already all knew about Kurogiri, there was almost no reason to keep it from them anymore. But her quirk was such a finicky topic. People didn't like it most of the time. Harper distanced herself because of it. It felt painfully wrong to encroach on someone's privacy so blatantly. To know so much about them without really talking to them. It felt wrong and sickening, and it made her... it made her feel like a bad person, sometimes. 

Kirishima had been trying to get her to socialize. She'd distanced herself from everyone. From Iida, who had tried many times to talk to her again after what happened, and from Uraraka, who had offered her milk on more than one occasion. From Sato and his cookies and Mina and her girl talk. From Bakugo and his emotional issues and Hagakure and her weirdness. She'd latched onto Kirishima a little, too dependent and reliant on his kindness. It had been cruel of her, but she hadn't been able to stop herself at the time. Not when he was so willing and pushing. Sitting here, listening to his thoughts, staring into those pleading eyes... she knew that had to change. Would change, in a world without him. But how could she stay afloat if he was gone?

"I don't... you're dying." Harper stated the obvious, and Kirishima felt his heart sink and soar and break and buzz. Harper shook her head at herself. She felt like an idiot. She felt like she couldn't stand, disbalance throwing her off. Emotions flooded through her, ripping through everything in her.

"I k...now. That's why you n-need to promise me you're n...not going to go back to the w-way you were before UA." Kirishima squeezed her hands again, weaker this time. Harper felt a sharp sting of panic. She pushed it back abruptly, eyes stinging. "Try, Harper. O-Open up. You're amazing, a-and other people will see that. Trust... t-them."

Harper pressed her lips together, brows furrowing. She blinked through the tears blurring her vision, gritting her teeth. She felt powerless. She was pathetic. Kirishima was dying, and she couldn't do anything but sit here and... listen. Fuck. Alright, okay. Deep breathes. Steady, calm, no panicking right now. If she were dying and had some shit to spill, she'd sure want him to listen too. He was always there for her. She had to be there for him. This was painful for him. Harper was not the victim here, and she wouldn't make herself out to be. Not while he was still here, trying to help her. She had to let him help her.

"Alright." Harper agreed, voice steadier than before despite the tears. He was leaving. He was going to die. "I...I'll tell them. I won't-- I promise. I promise I won't let myself fall like that again. B-But Kirishima, you-- I--"

"It's okay." Kirishima swore, smiling at her. His entire body was shaking, and god, this was it, wasn't it? He was dying. He was fucking dying. This was happening. Yet he was still smiling at her, with those fond eyes and that friendly openness that had trapped her so surely. "Ha...Harper y-you know you're my best friend, r-right?"

She should've been nicer to him. Nicer and more open. Should've smiled more, gave him more hugs, talked to him more. Gotten to know him even better, spent more time with him. Should've been there, should've protected him. Never should've gotten him involved in this. Did he know? Did he know how much he meant? Did he know she cared?

"Yeah. I know." Harper's voice came out pathetically squeaky, and she dragged his hand closer. Fear crashed into her. He was going to die. Words spilled out through her exhaustion and terror, all the things she never told him out loud flooding into her and making her realize just how much she'd missed. How much he needed to know-- that she wanted him to know. She grasped his hands tight like a lifeline, face pale and breathing labored. Her vision blurred. She was suffocating. "I love you, Kirishima. You know that, don't you? Y-You know I love you?" 

"I kn... know. I knew. I love you, too." Kirishima smiled, so genuine and... final. Harper gasped for air, shaking her head sharply despite how dizzy it made her. She bit the inside of her cheek, squeezing his hands again. He leaned down, resting his forehead against their clasped hands. He was shaking so hard. He was afraid, too. The fear fought through his relief in a rush that made her feel cold. Panic clawed its way back into her. "Thank you for letting me love you. Thank you for helping me live. Please listen to me. You... you... always... you listen." 

"Thank you." Harper sobbed, gasping for another breath as her chest closed up. She leaned down, burying her face in his red hair. It smelt like smoke and blood. Harper's heart wrenched. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening, could it? Tell her it wasn't. Her words blubbered out, her heart monitor speeding up. She barely registered it. "Kirishima, thank y-you for loving m-me. Thank you for b-being there. Tha-thank you for being my friend, K-Kirishima, thank you, thank y-you, I-I'm sorry. I-I'm really s-sorry, Kirishima. I-I'm so sorry." 

He did not respond, and Harper sobbed harder. 

Her quirk screamed so hard it made her dizzy, all the emotional barriers in her shattering and breaking open, releasing the build up that had been waiting to be let out for a long time now. She barely noticed the door slamming open, arms wrapping around her middle and softly tugging her away from Kirishima. She let out a wail so uncharacteristically raw, turning into the person who'd grabbed her and burying her face into them, unable to look. Harper didn't think she could handle seeing Kirishima gone, laying there lifelessly. But his thoughts were gone, and all Harper could do was gasp for air and try desperately not to drown.

Grey scarf, black jumpsuit, and the faint smell of muffins. Aizawa held her close, his grasp firm. He was shaking too, his breaths just as deep and shuddering as her own. Harper grasped him and let herself cry. Her world spun, flipping itself upside down. A sense of hopelessness invaded her, and Harper had to wonder how Kirishima could possibly think her strong enough to move on from this. 

"M-Mr. Aizawa." Harper gasped out as doctors flooded the room, talking too fast for her to comprehend. All she could focus on was Kirishima's lack of presence. On him being gone. Gone, gone, he was gone. Harper couldn't-- it was-- she-

"It's okay." Aizawa breathed out, voice raspy from his own tears. He carded a trembling hand through her messy hair, curling himself around her as Kirishima was pulled away. He looked down at the girl in his arms, closing his eyes. He couldn't watch. He couldn't. "I have you, Harper. It's okay."

It wasn't, and all Harper could do was break.