❧

"So," Midoriya hums, leaning forward on the bed and facing you, "tell me everything about how your brother died."

"Well, uhm," you start, shifting in your seat, "I was at work late, and when I came home, I just went straight to bed—"

The man in front of you sighs loudly, interrupting your sentence. He glances at you lazily, clearly bored. "Restart," he tells you, "this time, tell the truth."

You gulp. "Okay. Okay . . . I was at your hospital room, and I feel out of the window because the guards almost caught me. I went home and the lights were off, and everything was normal. I just went straight to bed because I couldn't heal my ankle."

You pause, your breaths shaky as you remember the incident.

"And when I woke up," you look at Midoriya, "he was dead. The autopsy said he overdosed, and they didn't find any wounds on him or signs of struggle except—"

"So it was suicide?"

"It wasn't fucking suicide," you growl, getting tired of hearing that same word over and over again. "I was saying  that there was a hole in his palm, Midoriya. A hole, right in the center, about the size of a golf ball. It went straight through his hand."

"A hole, eh?" He mutters to himself. "Where have I . . . "

He shakes his head, looking back up to you. "Sounds like there are three possibilities."

"Go on," you urge him.

"First, he committed suicide."

You snort and shake your head.

"Second, he was murdered by some stranger."

You're quiet.

"Third . . . "

" . . . you killed him."

You stand up, pushing your chair back. You glare at Midoriya as it clatters behind you, but he only grins, looking intrigued. "To be honest, I'm surprised you had the guts to kill someone."

"I didn't kill him, you bastard,"  you spit, clenching your fists. 

Midoriya shrugs. "Call me a bastard and a bastard I shall be."

For some reason, it's strange hearing the word 'bastard' coming from Deku's mouth, but then you remind yourself.

This is not Deku.

This is Midoriya.

"So are we going to investigate or not?" you grimace, knowing you need his help. "The police probably think I killed him too, so we're going to have to deal with that . . . "

"It would've helped if you didn't run away like an idiot, because innocent people totally run away from law enforcement."

"Shut up," you snap, not sure how he knew about that in the first place, "even if I hadn't, they still—"

"—would've listened to you and heard your part of the story," Midoriya finishes for you, smiling, "and if you didn't murder the dude, would've crossed you off of the list of suspects after hearing you out."

You blush in embarrassment. Yeah, you have to admit it was probably a bad move, but you're not going to say that to him. 

"Whatever," you sigh instead, "thing is, there's no going back now. What do we do first?"

"First," Midoriya says confidently, standing up, "we investigate the crime scene."

"My apartment? Surely there's going to be police everywhere."

"Nothing a little bomb can't handle," Midoriya replies, snapping gloves onto his hands.

"What?"  You ask, "We are not going to kill anybody."

"I never said you had to," he tells you, lifting a brow and grabbing a few things from the shelves in the store. 

"Bu-But you're—" You stutter, watching as he stuffs things into his pockets.

"Calm down, darling," he assures you, grinning, "it's for a diversion. We're not killing anyone yet."

❧

The town is just as you left it: dusty, quiet, and empty. You turn to Midoriya, who's wearing a hood to disguise himself. You have one too, for the same purpose, just in case.

"It should be right around here," you tell him, and he nods.

As you turn the corner, you see you're right, but two police cars are parked by the sidewalk. Your heart clenches. 

Are they investigating more? 

Just like you asked them to?

You wave to Midoriya, who's behind you, gesturing for you both to enter the building. You take the stairs, stopping for a moment to talk to him. 

"When will the bomb . . . ?" You ask, still uncomfortable with the idea.

He grins beneath his hood. "Five minutes left."

You nod and continue up the steps, ignoring the pain in your ankle. It's better, and you can walk on it, but it hasn't completely healed yet. 

Once you're on your floor, you peek your head out of the stairwell, stealth mode on. You can hear Midoriya breathing behind you, and it only makes you more nervous. 

The hallway is empty, except for the two officers speaking with the landlady. They're standing outside your apartment.

The yellow "crime scene" caution tape contrasts to the dull gray of the door to your former home. It makes you shiver.

You listen in on the officers' conversation with the older, petite landlady, catching a few words here and there.

The landlady:

" . . . he was a troublesome boy, but I never thought he would . . . "

The dark-haired officer:

" . . . it happens all the time . . . . . . had any strangers entered the building recently?"

Her answer surprises you, and you listen closely:

" . . . actually, sir, there was—"

Boom.