“Is that blood?”

The question tumbled from your lips before you could bring yourself to a halt, rigid-stiff like a fawn before blinding double halos, unnatural radiance drawing you into stillness, coaxing you into a feeble imitation of safety, only to tear you from your daze, chilling numbness overcoming your body as you came to terms with what was. What you saw could be explained, but it could not be fathomed.

Crimson coated the inner fabric lining his palms, red bleeding into eye catching orange, intermingling into a dirty shade of brown. Excess interwoven within durable fabric seeped out, dripping in viscous globs onto the ground. To tear your attention from what lay before was a more difficult task than you would have thought, scarlet ichor akin to the red hue of Katsuki’s eyes, dark and vibrant. Calling for your attention, drawing you from the depths of animalistic terror, his mouth tugged into a frown, jaw working in silent contemplation.

The response he mustered out was more similar to a growl than anything worth interpreting. Words partly garbled beneath irritable gruffness, his gloved fingertips digging into the palm of his hand, painting them red.

“It’s not mine.” He managed, this gaze trailing the length of the wall, brow twitching in slight annoyance. “… So stop staring at it, would you?”