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Chapter Text

Katsuki stumbled down the sidewalk. The streetlights glowed yellow on the pavement below his feet. The air was sweet and warm. He couldn't really remember where he was coming from. All of his memories were a blur of sound and color.
Something warm and wet was dripping down his arm, tracing its way down to the tips of his fingers. He rubbed two of them together absentmindedly.
Sticky.
Katsuki tilted his head down and his entire world spun violently around. A laugh bubbled up from his throat as his feet stuttered to the side.
Shit. He needed to focus on walking like a normal person. It was harder when you were drunk.
A droplet fell from the tip of his index finger and Katsuki dragged his unfocused gaze on them.
Redredredredredredred-
His world tilted suddenly and Katsuki felt his body smashing against the hard, unforgiving ground.
Blood. Katsuki was bleeding. Why was he bleeding?
His skull throbbed with every pulse of his heart. Katsuki groaned, reaching up to rub his aching head. The floor. Right. He had fallen.
Katsuki pushed himself up to a sitting position. Each of his limbs felt like they weighed a ton each. They were heavy and stiff. Everything was bright and spinning. He felt kinda sick to his stomach, and if he closed his eyes long enough, Katsuki was positive he'd be puking his guts out. Instead he focused on the weird object now sticking out of his pocket.
A red flower. A carnation.
Katsuki laughed again, plucking the flower from his jacket pocket and finally pushing himself to an unsteady standing position.

His mom loved these flowers. Years ago, she would plant them every spring. Once when he had to grow them for a school project she kept the blooms preserved by pressing them between pages of books. Katsuki used to snatch the books off the shelves when the hag wasn't looking to find the dried flowers between the pages. He'd inhale the scent of the ink and paper, and the lingering odor of the flowers. 

That was before. Everything was always before.
Before Katsuki got his quirk. Before Deku didn’t get his. Before his dad left. Before she started drinking.
He was happier then.
Things were hard after Masaru left. Mitsuki never really struggled for money, but balancing a successful modeling career and a toddler wasn’t a walk in the park by any means. Especially a kid like Katsuki.

Katsuki didn’t blame her when she started drinking more. He didn’t blame her when she slowly stopped cooking meals for them. He didn’t blame her when she stopped coming home every night.
He never blamed her.
He wasn’t an easy kid. Katsuki knew that. He really did try(not that his mom would ever agree).
Mitsuki's punishments were harsh, but necessary. Nobody understood that. Katsuki needed her to help him. He needed the hag to keep him in line. Katsuki was well aware that he was a bad person. She was just helping.
After Kamino (after Katsuki ended All Might), the truth settled underneath his skin uncomfortably and lingered there. Katsuki couldn’t deny it any longer.
He was a villain.

With trembling fingers, Katsuki plucked a petal from the red carnation.
Be a villain.
He snorted. Katsuki was halfway there. He idly plucked another. The soft red petal fluttered down to the dirty pavement. Red contrasted sharply against the black pavement.
Kill myself.
He grinned wildly. The hag would love this game. Like a fucked up version of Love Me/Love Me Not. He began to furiously rip the petals from the bud.
Be a villain.
Kill myself.
Be a villain.
Kill myself.

Katsuki walked along, mindlessly making his way through the dark streets. Petals floated to the ground behind him alongside the droplets of sticky blood. A trail of red-red blood, red petals. Katsuki loved the color red. Red stained his past. Red eyes, red blood, red petals.
Katsuki thought about killing himself. It was all his mother ever told him anymore. Well, besides the villain shit, but that was fucking obvious. Everyone said that. Katsuki knew it was true.
But suicide? That was different. Katsuki knew that. The hag had always told him to kill himself, but only recently had those words begun to hold any weight. He never really believed her before. It was just something she said to try to keep him controlled. To destroy his burgeoning ego. Katsuki was both grateful and hated it at the same time.

But now? He was tired.
Katsuki had spent years pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Brash, confident, loud and indisputably the best.
In truth, Katsuki was no better than a smudge of dirt on the street.
And fucking God, was Katsuki tired of acting like he was anything better than that.

The petals continued to fall. There were much less now. The bud was beginning to look naked. Only a few of the soft, crimson petals remained. 
Be a villain.
Kill myself.
Be a villain.
Kill myself.
Ah. So there it was then.
The last petal was innocently held between two blood stained fingers.
An empty pit opened inside his chest. Feeling hollow, Katsuki let it go. The final petal floated aimlessly to the ground.

When Katsuki finally began to gain some sense of awareness, he was stumbling outside the dorms of Heights Alliance. It was Friday or Saturday he was pretty sure.

They had been given the opportunity to go home on the weekends. Katsuki never really went but his mother demanded he come home this weekend. Something about a fancy dinner that the hag needed him to cook for. Naturally, the fucking hag got drunk before Katsuki even began cooking and started getting physical with him.
On nights like these he often snuck a couple drinks when she wasn’t in the same room. She drank enough that it was never noticeable as long as she didn't catch him in the act.
At first Katsuki didn’t really think twice about the extra fists thrown his way tonight. It was shit, yeah, but he deserved it. That cut of beef was expensive and he had charred parts of the steak a bit too much to be of the quality that was expected. The punishment was deserved. Necessary.
But as the night stretched on, Katsuki finished the cooking. The hag was still mad about some work thing. He didn’t really ask for the details before the bottle shattered against his skin.
At that point, the hag was a lost cause. Katsuki had never left home so fucking fast in his life. He grabbed his bag by the door, threw a bottle of some vodka inside while she was still rampaging in the kitchen and slipped through the front door before she was any wiser.
The rest of it was more hazy.
Katsuki remembered drinking on the top floor of some parking garage, sprawled out like a starfish on the rough concrete. The twinkling stars against a backdrop of dark sky and a cool night wind. He remembered the feeling of gravel between his fingers. The cuts on Katsuki's shoulder stung painfully and his stomach churned when he plucked out shards of glass with trembling fingers.

Katsuki doesn't remember climbing over the wall. One minute he was staring at the stars and suddenly Katsuki is one step away from diving off the roof. The pavement taunted him six floors below. If he dives head first, Katsuki is positive it would kill him. It doesn't scare him, at least, not like it used to. He wants it. He wants to be nothing at all.

Katsuki can’t remember why he didn’t let go of the ledge. He can’t remember why he clambered back over. He can't understand why he didn’t kill himself.
But God, Katsuki wishes he had.

No lights were shining through the windows of the common room, thank fucking God. Katsuki had no idea what time it was, but he fucking knows he wasn’t supposed to be on campus or drunk. He had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone for the rest of the weekend.
If Katsuki was a bit less drunk than he currently found himself, he would have blasted himself straight to the balcony of his room. But his explosions get harder to control when he lacks awareness like this and Katsuki was not trying to blow his arms off right now.
It would probably just be a messy and painful way to die. If he even died before someone found him.
Either way, not the fucking way he wanted to die.
Katsuki drags his aching body up the steps and stumbles into the door. It's stupid, and he knows that, but part of him is falling apart because goddamnit-nothing ever fucking goes right. 

Nothing is going right and Katsuki is just a fucking mess. He's so tired of pretending. He's tired of trying to be a good person. It's pointless, anyway. Because he's fucking useless. He can't even be fucking kind.

Katsuki's crying when he makes it inside. Katsuki can’t even stop the tears. He keeps wiping his eyes furiously but the tears are relentless. 

Then the strap of his bag catches on the door, and Katsuki rips it free quickly. The bottle of vodka clatters noisily to the ground. 

“Are you fucking me? Are you actually fucking kidding me?” Katsuki hisses through a clenched jaw. He snatches the bottle from the floor, shoving it deep within the bag and yanking the zipper shut. 

Katsuki glares at the wall, flexing a bloodied fist. How much fucking trouble would he actually get in if he slammed his fist through the drywall? 

The thought sobers him from the burning pit of anger. After all, if he did that, Katsuki would only be proving everyone right. 

All he really wants is to be alone right now. 

The anger is sobering. Katsuki wipes his eyes furiously one last time and the tears don't return. 

“Blasty? You good?”

Katsuki turns reluctantly towards Mina's voice. Unfortunate, but Mina’s more chill than the rest of the fuckers in his class. Besides Kirishima, he’d rather be caught by her than anyone else drunk in the common room. 

The entire, and he fucking means entire class is seated in various spots around the common room, all centered around the TV. And every one of those motherfuckers are staring openly at him. He freezes.

Katsuki is suddenly very aware that not only is he probably still dripping blood but he looks like he's been crying. 

He pastes a weak smile on his face regardless. “Oh, hey.”

If anything, all the fuckers now look concerned. Katsuki isn't angry for once. It's almost kind of nice that maybe they care a little bit about him? Or they just don't want blood on their floors. That's more likely the case. His hag of a mother would be pissed too.

“Uh, no offense,” Kaminari glances around to the others. “Weren’t you supposed to be home this weekend?”

Maybe they just didn't want him here, he realizes. Katsuki rolls his eyes and takes an unsteady step forward. If his class doesn't want him here that's fine. He wants to be alone anyway. “Yeah, didn't work out. I came back.” The words kind of drag together against his will. Internally, Katsuki winces. 

Kirishima is looking at him oddly but it’s Sero who suddenly looks a bit alarmed and glares at him accusingly. “Are you drunk?”

Katsuki blinks. Suddenly they’re all squinting at him, trying to figure him out. Their eyes make him uncomfortable and he doesn't trust himself to talk without giving away his slurred speech so he just clicks his tongue.

Kaminari gasps loudly and starts hitting Sero. “Holy shit, dude, I think you're right!”

Mina slaps a hand over her mouth to cover a laugh. “Oh my god, Blasty! Were you at a party?”

Okay so they're not mad about the blood. They don't sound completely pissed that he's here either so he smiles a bit at them. “Fuck. Off.” It's more playful than aggressive, and Katsuki rolls his eyes. His words slur together slightly because his fucking tongue feels a tad uncooperative. 

The Bakusquad dissolves into laughter while the rest of the class are sharing looks between their friends. Katsuki finally turns to face them and one of the fuckers curses loudly. It kind of hits him then, that maybe they didn't comment on the blood because they couldn't see it. 

“Holy shit, are you okay?” Mina stands up, looking pale. She's studying him completely now, and he kind of withers away under her intense eyes.

He can't. Not now. He can't tell them shit. Katsuki narrows his eyes. 

“D-don’t worry ‘bout it.” Christ, he sounds as bad as his fucking mother.

Kirishima starts rushing over, with the rest of the little gang following. Kirishima's eyes are roving over his bleeding shoulder. “Oh god, Bakugou, you’re like, dripping blood. What happened?”

Katsuki steps backward quickly as Kirishima reaches out to touch him. “I said fuck off. M’ fine. Don’t even feel it.” 

Deflect, deflect, deflect. 

Kirishima stops hesitantly and bites his lip. “Bakugou, that looks bad.” Then his eyes drift to Katsuki's face and he’s sucking in a breath. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers it quietly, like its a secret between them. Mina and the rest of his tentative friends seem to realize too. He can see the worry on their faces. Why are they worried? Its just a little blood. He's had so much worse. And this was deserved. 

Katsuki decides at this point that he needs to get the fuck out of there. He steps around them, glaring viciously. It’s all he can do to keep Kirishima and the others at a distance right now. Lord knows he can’t physically keep the others back. 

“Alright fuckers. You’re all great and all that, but imma go to bed. Don’t be a snitch,” Katsuki growls, but it's more to keep up appearances. They don't buy it, he can see it in their eyes. “Snitch an' I’ll fuck you up.”

He staggers over to the elevator. Kirishima doesn't follow him. He's glad they're respecting his space. 

“Dude are you sure? You look like shit. We can help you bandage that?” 

Katsuki waves him off. Everything is getting hazy and he's really fucking tired and sad. He doesn't want to talk anymore. Katsuki just wants to pass the fuck out and forget this ever happened.

Katsuki is eternally grateful that out of the entire class, fucking Izuku isn’t here right now. Izuku had seen him on nights like these before and alongside that uncanny ability to read through all of Katsuki's bullshit, Izuku knew or at least had a vague idea that something weird was happening with his mom. 

Last time Izuku had found him drunk and bleeding, he made Katsuki make some dumbass promise to call him next time it happened. (They weren’t stupid enough to assume it was a one time thing.)

Honestly it hadn’t crossed Katsuki's mind to call the green haired fucker until now. Once Izuku found out, because there was no way this little tidbit of knowledge wouldn’t drift to his ears, he was gonna be pissed. 

But this was a problem for future Katsuki. 

Katsuki went to hit the button for the elevator-because fuck trying to navigate stairs right now- when the doors slid open unprompted. 

“Hey guys I got the-“ 

Katsuki blanched. 

Izuku stood frozen in the elevator, holding a DVD in hand. Katsuki steps quickly to move around him but Izuku matches his motion to block his escape. Green eyes quickly scanned Katsuki, from the drying tear tracks on his face, to the blood still oozing from his shoulder. 

“Are you-“ Izuku shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. Katsuki can see the moment everything clicks. Izuku's eyes narrow accusingly. “You didn’t call me.”

Katsuki opens and closes his mouth like a fish. There's nothing to say. 

Shitshitshitshitshit-

“Why didn’t you call me?” Izuku mutters sadly. 

Katsuki swallows. When he's drunk, it’s like all of his defenses crumble in front of his oldest friend. All Katsuki can think of is what a complete asshole he's been. What a villain he's been to his friend. His own friend. Can they even be called that anymore? 

Izuku is still watching him carefully and Katsuki knows without a doubt the longer they stand here the more Izuku understands what’s happening. 

“M’ goin’ to bed.”

And then Izuku does something that Katsuki hasn’t heard in a while and their classmates have probably never had the pleasure of experiencing. 

“What the fuck?” The abrupt and loud appearance of Katsuki's unofficial favorite curse word has him locked in place. Izuku rarely, if ever, curses. Among those rare instances, the person on the receiving end has never actually been him. Despite all of the ample opportunities Katsuki has provided him in the past, Izuku has never cursed at him.

Katsuki winces as Izuku fixates a vicious glare at him, scowling furiously. It reminds him of-

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be stupid, Kacchan.”

The words are a punch to the gut; even though Katsuki is sure he didn’t physically flinch, Izuku is wincing all the same. 

He's observant like that, Katsuki has to remind himself. It's like Izuku is intimately aware with Katsuki's own emotions. Hell, Izuku probably is. He probably has a better handle of what and why Katsuki is feeling a certain way than Katsuki himself. Katsuki never minded it, not really. Izuku's strange emotional intelligence on Katsuki has actually saved him a lot of unnecessary words and explanations. 

“Kat,” he murmurs softly so the others can’t eavesdrop. It's the nickname reserved for nights like these. Nights when Katsuki drops any pretenses and shields around his childhood friend. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m just worried about you.”

Katsuki huffs a small sigh. Izuku wouldn't hurt him. He knows that. Logically, he understands it. Katsuki doesn't think he's ever been genuinely mad at Izuku. Fake anger, yes. Real anger, no. 

Izuku knows this too. (He knows everything)

Izuku offers his arm so Katsuki doesn’t topple over. Katsuki keeps his eyes glued to the floor and wordlessly accepts, leaning into him.

“Alright.” Izuku speaks confidently, addressing the gaggle of idiots in the common room. “You guys have a good night, I’ll leave the DVD here.”

Uraraka’s voice is hesitant. “You-you’re leaving, Deku-kun?”

"Of course." Katsuki can feel Izuku scoff. The words roll of Izuku's tongue so naturally, Katsuki can almost hear the challenge underlying them. Why wouldn't I?  He seems to say. “If you need anything we’ll be in my room.”

Katsuki raises his head to snarl without any heat, “Why the fuck are you sayin' it like tha-?”

Izuku doesn’t even look at him, he's focused on something across the room. “Shut up, Kat. I told you to fucking call me.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “M’ sorry I fuckin' forgot. Jesus.”

Izuku doesn’t respond to him. He smiles at the class but its strained. “Goodnight.”

They head back into the elevator and the doors begin to slide shut when Izuku abruptly shoves his hand in between to stop them.

“Listen, I better not hear shit about this from the teachers. I trust that everyone will keep quiet about this, alright? Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

Izuku drops his hand and the door closes shut, finally separated them from their stunned class. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki stares at the trail of blood as the elevator doors shut. He is no stranger to blood, especially his own.  

Katsuki has scars. He has many scars. Scars from training, scars from his mother and scars from himself. He doesn’t scar easily, a rare blessing from the hag. But he will scar if the wound is deep enough. 

( A lesson learned the hard way .)

When he first began, it wasn’t intentional. Katsuki just lost control. He can’t remember much about it now, all the details of the memory are blurred. But he remembers the panic. The mind numbing fear that encompassed his entire body. He remembers the way his lungs burned and every breath he took simply wasn't enough . 

And no matter how hard he tried Katsuki couldn’t fucking breathe. 

His arms had been wrapped around his torso when his sweat went off. The resulting explosion wasn’t especially loud- it consisted more of heat than light and sound. It startled him into letting off another series of small explosions. The feel of them bursting against his skin jolted him back into himself. 

The pain struck next: lightning fast and burning through his nerves. Katsuki was no stranger to pain but this felt different. It hurt like a fucking bitch, but the panic was gone. In the blink of an eye, the vice gripping his chest vanished. Katsuki could breathe.

He had insected the burn. 

The skin was red and hot. It had an off, shiny quality to it and Katsuki knew without a doubt that it was going to blister later on. 

Despite all of that, Katsuki felt-

Well, he almost felt-

Better?

The pain was a focal point, tethering him back into himself in a way that he hadn’t been able to quite manage in a while. The pain was familiar, it was grounding. 

Katsuki liked it. 

He didn’t hurt himself often. Just when things got too bad. Katsuki was worried that if he did it too much, Izuku might notice something was off outside of his typical wounds. 

He shouldn’t have worried, honestly. Everything could be explained so easily. 

Oh, the hag was just mad. 

Oh, it was just training.   

Oh, it was an accident.

It was almost frustrating how easy it was to lie.

Regardless, Katsuki kept the injuries to a minimum. 

On the weekends Katsuki returned home at the hag’s request ( demand ), and after Mitsuki had passed out from the alcohol, Katsuki would get up and seclude himself in the bathroom. He would wait, listening to the silent air of the house, and double then triple check for the soft sounds of snoring coming from down the hall. Katsuki would pull the razor from the crack in between the counter and the wall with the tips of his nails. He would clean it in warm water. Katsuki would lay out bandages and antibiotic cream. 

And then for a couple minutes, Katsuki would stand there. He would stare at his tired reflection in the mirror and bask in the tentative peace and resolution of what he was about to do. He liked to think of everything that had gone wrong with his life. Sometimes he tried to find the root of the problem.

All of those feelings built inside of him. Every mistake he had made became clear in his mind’s eye. Katsuki felt all of it. He let it swallow him whole.

Then, and only then, did Katsuki begin to drag the razor along the soft and tender flesh of his thighs. 

The pain laced his skin as it neatly opened itself. The white tone of his flesh quickly filled with red. Katsuki would trace the same line again and again, creating a deeper well of blood. He would watch until it spilled over. The blood would drip down, warm and wet. 

That’s the moment Katsuki finally felt at peace. That’s when his head would quiet.  

Katsuki didn’t think of anything during these moments. He felt oddly empty. All of the emotions that had been swirling violently inside of him were chased away by the sense of calm. He felt them flow out of his body with his blood. He felt himself becoming lighter, more in line with who he was supposed to be. 

Katsuki felt almost happy.

Then the moment would end. Emotions crashed over him and he drowned in them. Katsuki wrapped the wounds tightly, smearing ointment then binding skin back together so it wouldn’t scar so thickly. He would wash the razor quickly under the hot water and slip it back into the crevice. Katsuki would place the bandages and cream back in the first aid kit. 

One night, Katsuki had paused and dragged his eyes back to his reflection, hand on the door and poised to leave.

Katsuki looked terrible. His eyes were tired and his hair was a mess. Katsuki swallowed hard as he caught sight of the deepening color of a bruise on his arm. Red skin was turning blue and purple, and he could feel the accompanying ache in his flesh. There was a lump in his throat and the overwhelming urge to cry. 

Katsuki turned the light off and quickly walked to his room. There was no point in crying. It never did anything. It was stupid to cry anyway, but tears welled in his eyes. Furiously, he wiped them away. 

Katsuki closed the door to his room softly as a quiet sob shook his chest. He felt shitty. Katsuki tried to hold it back, he tried to shove it far, far away but it was reaching a climax, he was nearing the point of no return. 

Maybe he needed to cut himself more. Maybe he hadn’t bled enough. But that wasn’t the problem this time. 

Katsuki leaned against the door as he slowly slid to the ground.

Because he knew. Suddenly, he understood.

There was no escape from this. There was nothing, and he meant absolutely nothing, he could do to make his mom love him. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what grades he got or how many battles he won, she would hate him. There was nothing he could do to change that.

No one cared. No one noticed. They saw the bruises and smiled at him anyway. Aizawa signed the fucking permission slips every time Katsuki handed them over without any hesitation. As much as he hated it; every hit, every punch, every vile word spat in his direction was his fault.

Katsuki sobbed harder. 

It was all his fault. He was a terrible person and everyone knew it. All of that bullshit about fucking victims, and helping people in shitty situations was a lie. It never applied to him. Because the difference between Todoroki and Katsuki was so glaringly obvious.

Todoroki was actually a good person. He never deserved the shit Endeavor did to him. Katsuki deserved every fucked up thing Mitsuki dreamed up. That's why everyone in his class gave Todoroki such sad looks when the dual-colored boy spilled any small detail of his childhood. That’s why when Mitsuki hit him in front of his teachers during the home visit they didn’t even bat an eye. 

Todoroki was such a good person. He was innocent.

Katsuki knew these things and he accepted them, but God did it fucking hurt.  

As much as Katsuki accepted that he was a shitty person, as much as he knew that he was as awful and terrible as people said, deep down he still prayed for someone to help him. Katsuki had fucking hoped with every beat of his blackened heart that someone would look at him and say ‘ you didn’t deserve it ’. 

But that was the problem and he knew that now. Finally, Katsuki accepted what the hag always told him. 

He deserved it.  

Still , Katsuki thought bitterly, I can’t do this anymore.

It would be better, helpful even, for him to die. Katsuki felt the weight of the words settle within his chest. A heavy weight he couldn’t throw off. Tears dripped down his face and onto the floor.

He couldn’t do this anymore. Katsuki was tired. Mitsuki would kill him one of these days. Selfishly, Katsuki wanted to do it himself. He wanted to have some control over the way he died. If Katsuki waited for the hag to finish the job, he knew it would be excessively painful and bloody. Not to mention slow. The bitch would take her time with him, just like he deserved.

But this way- if he killed himself -Katsuki was doing everyone a favor. They wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. He wouldn't hurt people anymore. Its not like they would care if he fucking died. 

Katsuki was doing everyone a favor.

( Katsuki returned to school the next day. He never breathed even a hint of the word suicide to any of those fuckers. Deep down, he was terrified they would agree with him. )

The elevator doors shut with a soft ding and Katsuki slumped against the wall. For a moment it was quiet. Katsuki breathed deeply, trying to push away that growing feeling of nausea swirling in his gut. The world was still spinning, but somehow, with Izuku there, Katsuki felt more stable than he had the entire night. 

“You know,” Katsuki murmured as guilt began to choke him. “M’ sorry. M’ sorry for ev’rything.”

Izuku knelt down beside him and brushed away tears that Katsuki didn’t even realize that he was crying. Izuku smiled softly. “I know, Kat. You don’t have to say anything.”

Katsuki sniffled, reaching up to wipe his eyes before Izuku could do it for him again. He needed Izuku to understand. The guilt swelled up inside him, tearing him apart. His heart ached. “I didn’t-I swear I didn’t mean to. I said all those awful things, ‘Zuku. I-I fucked up. M’ so sorry.”

Izuku shushed him quietly, and it was a kindness Katsuki didn’t deserve. He sobbed, pleading over and over, “M’ sorry, m’ sorry, m’ sorry-”

“Kat, it's okay. It’s okay.” Izuku wrapped him in his strong arms and absentmindedly Katsuki realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. It made him cry harder. “It’s okay, Katsuki. You’re okay.”

Izuku murmured those words until the elevator doors opened again. Then he leaned back, hands on Katsuki’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “I’m going to help you up, okay Kat?” 

Katsuki’s breath hitched, and he tried to stop the flood of tears welling in his eyes. “Okay,” he muttered. “Okay.”

Katsuki tried to help but his balance was pretty off and he ended up leaning heavily on Izuku as the world continued its unsteady dance. His stomach twisted and Katsuki screwed his eyes shut and tried to breathe. 

They began their trek down the hall. Each step felt one closer to some sickly demise and Katsuki was trying his best to hold his shit together. Izuku seemed to pick up that Katsuki was about five seconds away from puking, and their pace picked up dramatically.

For a second, Izuku fumbled with the key card. Then the door was swinging open and Katsuki was being shoved into the small half bathroom and guided to the toilet. Katsuki’s knees hit the ground and he gripped the sides of the bowl as his stomach finally gave up and he heaved.

When he was younger, Mitsuki never actually cared when Katsuki was sick. She always sneered and looked down her nose at him when he threw up or ran a fever. The hag would lock him in his room and leave Katsuki to figure it out as the illness ran its course. Katsuki was used to someone leaving him the hell alone when he was sick.

But here was Izuku, and for a good minute while Katsuki was puking up mouthfuls of bile and vodka, he didn’t realize there was a hand on his back. But then he felt it. That comforting weight as Izuku gently squeezed his good shoulder and murmured comforting words.

It wasn’t until Katsuki was able to breathe normally and spit up that disgusting taste of bile from his mouth that he understood what the other was saying.

“You’re okay, Kat. You’re okay.”

He refused to let the tears gathered in his eyes fall. Finally, his stomach settled a bit and Katsuki laughed bitterly. “Usually people run ‘way when m’ sick,” he slurred. 

“I wouldn’t do that.” Izuku insisted stubbornly. And the worst part? Katsuki believed him. He believed every stupid, caring thing Izuku said. 

“Okay,” he says. 

Izuku snatches a piece of toilet paper and wipes Katsuki’s mouth. There’s an odd feeling in his chest, one that Katsuki can’t name. He doesn’t recognize it but it's not terrible. It's almost soothing. 

“Are you feeling better now?” 

Katsuki nods. He feels more present than he did previously. He feels better having thrown up. 

Izuku nods and begins to pull out the first aid kit underneath his sink. 

There’s a knock on the door. Katsuki tenses, pushing his body against the wall for support. Izuku shares a look with him before pushing himself up.

“Stay here, Kat. I’ll check it out.”

Katsuki takes a deep breath and nods. 

Izuku disappears. There’s muffled conversation at the door and then Katsuki hears it close. When Izuku appears again, he’s not alone. Kirishima and Mina follow behind him. 

Katsuki blinks stupidly at them. “Da fuck? Why’re you ‘ere?” 

Kirishima glances nervously at Izuku but Mina pushes her way forward and kneels in front of him. “We’re worried about you,” Mina says. She bites her lip, scanning him up and down.

“Yeah man,” Kirishima clears his throat. “You kind of freaked us out back there.”

Katsuki didn’t think they really cared. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Why would we be mad at you, Blasty?” Mina cries. 

“I bled on the floor,” Katsuki says bluntly. Why wouldn’t they be mad? “I’ll clean it up, I swear.”

“Don’t worry about that, Kat.” Izuku cuts in. Izuku flicks his eyes to Kirishima and Mina. “If you’re going to help, then help. But right now I need space so I can clean his cuts.”

Katsuki frowns. “They’re fine. S’all good.”

Izuku rolls his eyes and gives Kirishima a shove out the door. Mina stubbornly stays where she is, now staring at his shoulder with an odd look that has Katsuki trying to move it out of her view. It's futile, the bathroom is small and he doesn’t have enough space to truly get anywhere. 

“You said that, but I don’t believe you.” Izuku rummages through the first aid kit and pulls out a clean but blood stained rag from the bag. He runs it under the water and hands it off to Mina. “Here. Be of assistance .”

Katsuki snorts, and Mina cracks a shy smile as she takes it from Izuku’s hand. 

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Mina turns back to him and her smile only wavers for a second. “You alright if I clean you up, Blasty?” Her voice sounds light, but Katsuki knows she’s unnerved by the blood running down his arm. 

“Sure,” he slurs. “S’ whate’er.”

Mina nods and diligently begins to wipe away the blood, starting from his fingers and beginning to work her way up. 

Izuku finally clears his throat and they stare at each other. “So,” Izuku begins. “What happened?”

Katsuki shifts uncomfortably and Mina glares at him. “Stay still,” she insists.

“S’ not that big of a deal,” he mutters. 

“Then tell me,” Izuku says. Katsuki can’t meet his eyes right now, instead choosing to stare as Mina deftly cleans him up. 

“A bottle,” he says stiffly. The words fall from his lips easier because of the alcohol but it still feels like prying a piece away from him. He remembers the impact. 

Mina’s hands pause for a second. 

“Okay.” Katsuki looks up and Izuku doesn’t look mad. He doesn’t know why he thought Izuku would be mad at him for this. 

Kirishima has been quiet this whole time. Katsuki can see him now, standing at the doorway to the bathroom and not quite meeting his eyes. He’s staring at Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki drags his eyes back to Izuku.

“I got all the glass out,” Katsuki tells him. 

“Mina, can you double check for me?” 

Katsuki stiffens, glaring at her as she shakily says, “Sure.”

“Don’t give me that, Kat. It doesn’t hurt to double check.” Izuku crouches down near him, tugging out bandages from the first aid kit. Katsuki looks away from all of them. He stares at his fingers and remembers the soft petals that fell from his grasp. 

“I-” His voice dies in his throat. Katsuki can’t say the words, he can't. He doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to. Is it the alcohol that's urging him to speak?

The bathroom is silent. 

Katsuki finds tears in his eyes again. He thinks he’s tired of crying. 

Izuku’s scarred and crooked fingers fill his vision. He’s moving slowly, as if Katsuki is one sudden movement away from breaking down. He’s probably not completely wrong. Katsuki feels like he’s teetering back and forth on this edge. One wrong move and he’ll plummet into this abyss of pain and truth. 

Katsuki lets him wipe away more tears.

“Is it-” Izuku hesitates. “Is it the same thing it was a year and a half ago?” 

Katsuki sucks in a shuddering breath. “Yes,” he breathes out. He’s aware of every syllable, of every movement his mouth makes and the sound his throat produces to form the word. It feels like breaking his chest open and wrenching his own heart out. 

“Okay,” Izuku murmurs. “It's gonna be okay, Kat.”

Tears are blurring his vision again. He’s distantly aware of Izuku ushering Kirishima and Mina out of the bathroom. The door closes and Katsuki isn’t sure if they’ve left the room entirely or just the bathroom. 

With just the two of them, even in this small space of semi-privacy, Katsuki crumbles.

Izuku wrapped his arms around him again, murmuring soothingly as Katsuki cries.  

It doesn’t feel good to cry like this. Each sob tears itself from his throat. The tears are hot and salty as they run down his face. His body shakes violently but Izuku is holding him steady through this storm of emotions.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” he admits betweens gut wrenching sobs. “I’m tired, ‘Zuku. I’m so tired .”

Izuku is crying now, too. Katsuki can hear the emotion choking his voice when he says, “You can do it, Kat. It's gonna be okay, alright Kat? It’ll all be okay.”

Katsuki just cries harder. The comfort is like betrayal. He doesn’t deserve it. It’s the words and actions meant for someone else. Not someone like him. 

He can’t hold back the sobs wracking his body. Katsuki can’t stop because there is a massive pit of nothing in his chest and he’s terrified of it swallowing him whole. Dangerous thoughts are zipping through his mind and he can’t hold anything back anymore. His careful control is shattered.

So he cries. 

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” he says in a lull of silence. He whispers the words brokenly. 

Izuku hugs him tighter. “Please,” he begs. “Please don’t ever stop. I can’t lose you, Kat. I can’t .”

Katsuki can’t promise anything. He knows he’ll break it. But because Katsuki is the villain, because he is destined to be nothing more than an awful person, he whispers, “I won’t.”

The words crack something open in his chest but there is nothing left to cry. Instead, Katsuki holds Izuku like there’s no tomorrow, clenching fistfuls of his shirt as Izuku squeezes him tight. Katsuki closes his eyes and prays for a god to kill him. 

Katsuki finally reels himself back in after breaking down helplessly in Izuku’s arms. Kirishima and Mina come back to the bathroom with a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water after Izuku sends them a text from his phone. Katsuki didn’t question it. He’s glad Izuku is the only one to see him like this, not that Katsuki will tell him that.

It's embarrassing. 

Drinking helps in a backwards way, which he hates on the principle of the matter, but it also dissolves all of those carefully constructed walls he stuffs his emotions behind. When he’s with Izuku, he doesn't completely mind it. In a way it actually kind of feels good. Everything he doesn’t allow himself to feel or dwell on comes rushing forward and he can actually get it out. Izuku has always felt safe for him. 

This breakdown has him feeling empty and not all the way there. Izuku keeps studying him with those green eyes. Katsuki knows that Izuku can tell when he starts to feel less than mentally present because a scarred hand will rest on his shoulder to guide him back. It feels nice.

Kirishima is as awkward as ever. His friend keeps sharing concerned looks with Mina as he shifts around in the doorway. Sometimes he’ll open his mouth like he’s about to speak before abruptly closing it. Katsuki doesn’t call him out on it. Whatever it is, they can talk about another day.

It's obvious he’s been crying and Mina just makes a small noise in her throat before wiping his face with a cool, damp towel. It feels nice. Katsuki is too busy trying to keep one foot in his body that he doesn’t say anything. 

His friends are obviously worried. Katsuki doesn’t cry. He doesn’t do whatever this is. 

Well, they’ve never seen this side of him before. Katsuki doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

Izuku has already checked his wounds for hidden bits of glass. Infuriatingly, he did pull out a couple more small pieces. Kirishima walks away after Izuku pulls out the fourth piece. Mina just stares at him, her dark eyes filled with tears that never manage to fall. 

After his wounds are free of glass, Izuku cleans them with antiseptic alcohol. The sting and smell of it cause Katsuki to wrinkle his nose.  

Izuku cracks a smile and plucks the tube of antibiotic cream from the counter. “Regretting it now?” He says playfully.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Never,” he says. 

Izuku deftly smears the cream over the deeper cuts and hums thoughtfully. “Is there anything else I should be worried about?”

Did your mom hurt you anywhere else?

Katsuki sighs. “No.”

Nothing you can help with.

Izuku puts the cream away and grabs the rolls of bandages. 

“Are you feeling better, Blasty?” Mina asks softly. She tries to pass him the ibuprofen but he pushes it away. Katsuki doesn’t want to accept more help than he needs. They’re already doing too much. 

“I”m fuckin’ amazing,” he drawls lazily as he watches Izuku finish taping down white gauze. 

Izuku snorts and rolls his eyes. “Clearly.”

“Are you sure?” Mina is hesitant, her eyes roaming over his shoulder again. Katsuki fights through the urge to hide. 

“M’ fine.” He grunts. Katsuki can’t even feel them anymore. A blessing in disguise. Well, a blessing from vodka. 

Mina clearly isn’t convinced but she doesn’t say anything else. Kirishima is still standing silently in the doorway. His face is pale, and his expression looks a bit pinched.

“Don’ like blood?” Katsuki says before he can stop himself. 

Kirishima winces and lets out a shaky breath. “I’m just worried about you.”

Katsuki doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to talk about how this looks or how he's feeling. Suddenly, he wants to be alone. 

Izuku must pick up on something from his expression because he stands up and starts leading Kirishima and Mina out the door. “Alright, say goodnight. I’ll get him to bed.”

They say their goodbyes which Katsuki doesn’t respond to. He just stares at the bathroom tiles. One of them is chipped already. 

Izuku comes back and shoves the ibuprofen in his face. Katsuki reels back. 

“Take it,” Izuku tells him. “Then you can sleep.”

Katsuki does. He doesn’t fight with Izuku on it. 

Izuku helps him up. They fumble their way out of the half bathroom and Katsuki flops on the bed. His body sinks in the mattress and distantly he feels throbs of pain from his shoulder but then it's gone. 

“Feels good,” he moans into the pillow. 

“I’m worried about you,” Izuku says as he sits down on the other end of the bed. 

Katsuki rolls onto his back and their eyes meet. Izuku is crying. Katsuki doesn’t want him to cry, especially over someone like him. 

“Don’ cry.” He pleads uselessly.

Izuku huffs a laugh and wipes his eyes. “You know how I am. And don’t avoid this. I’m serious.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say. There are no words he can offer that wouldn’t be a lie. He stays silent. 

“We should tell someone.”

Katsuki shakes his head immediately. 

Izuku has told adults before. Katsuki doesn’t like to remember what happened after. The memories aren’t that clear when they surface but there’s something about it that inherently scares him. Everything is a haze of pain. Katsuki faintly remembers someone screaming, but the voice doesn’t sound like his own. The blood smeared across his body couldn’t have been his, could it? 

It wasn’t. The hag would never do that to him. She wouldn’t go that far. Katsuki is remembering wrong. 

Izuku and Inko could say all they wanted to anyone who listened but Mitsuki would pretend until the officers left and Katsuki would never admit to anything. 

Mitsuki wasn’t a terrible mother. It was Katsuki’s fault for being such a burden. Maybe if he were sweeter or quieter, Mitsuki would start loving him. Katsuki had to try. He had to be better. Most of the time, the hag was drunk when she hurt him. Whenever she went too far and hurt him a bit too much, Mitsuki apologized. Katsuki knew she didn’t really mean to. It was an accident.

( It had to be. What would he do if it wasn’t? )

“Kacchan,” Katsuki blinks as Izuku’s voice cuts through his thoughts, dragging him back to the conversation. “I want you to be safe. I worry about you every time you leave to go home. I keep thinking it could be the last time I'll ever see you. Please, please let me tell someone. It’ll be different this time. I know it will, they’re heroes.”

“She won’t kill me,” Katsuki mumbles, turning his head into the soft pillow. She can’t. She won’t. He’s been doing better. He’s a better person. 

“Kat-”

“Can-can we not talk ‘bout this? Pl’se?” 

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think about how good it feels to lay down. He thinks of how nice it is to have someone bandage your wounds. He doesn’t want to remember the feeling of her engagement ring biting into his chest when she punched him, or the feeling of his skin splitting apart as glass tore through, or the agony of every kick on bruised ribs-

No. No, he doesn’t want to think about that now. 

“Okay.”

Izuku’s voice is reluctant and quiet. Katsuki sighs softly. “Thank you.”

Izuku doesn’t respond. He feels the bed shift as Izuku curls up against him, careful to avoid the bandages. Katsuki lets the comfort seep into his body. The warmth spreads over him like sunshine and he’s drifting off as Izuku starts trailing fingers up and down his spine.

“Goodnight, Katsuki,” Izuku whispers, or at least Katsuki thinks he does, because the next moment he is succumbing to sleep. 

Katsuki doesn’t dream of anything.

The next morning Izuku gathers the class in the common room early for a much needed conversation, leaving Kacchan sleeping in his bed. Kacchan looked so peaceful, his face relaxed and free from any scowl or grimace of pain.

Izuku had carefully untangled himself from Kacchan’s limbs and slipped out the door quietly. The hallway was filled with his sleepy classmates as they all headed downstairs to the common room. Izuku had sent a mass text to everyone minus Kacchan, telling them all to meet early in the morning. 

Class 1-A all piled on the spread of couches, armchairs and tables. Izuku sat in front of them on a tables edge. 

“I’m going to tell you everything I can. There’s some parts that are only Kacchan’s story to tell. But I'll do my best.” The class sits in raptured silence, every eye focused on him. Izuku swallows hard, looking down at his crooked fingers. He takes a deep breath. 

“Kacchan and I were really close growing up. Our moms used to be best friends that met each other in college, and they both planned to have us at the same time so we could grow up friends too. And we were. We did everything together. My mom used to say that we were like twins. I could always tell what he was thinking. 

“We had, uh, well I guess you could say disagreement, in middle school. We stopped talking. It’s complicated to explain, but his mom didn't like me anymore, and he kind of had to be mean to me?” Izuku bites his lip. “It probably doesn’t make sense, and if I could tell you everything I would, I swear, it's just…” Izuku scowls. “It’s not my place to say.”

“So you guys are better now?” Tsu asks gently. 

Izuku chuckles darkly and shakes his head. “Kind of. Again, it's hard to explain.”

“Take your time,” Momo says. She leans back and glances around at the others. “We’re here to listen.”

“Right.” Izuku rubs one of the scars on his hand. “Well, something bad happened. Back then. And kind of now, I guess? Kacchan didn’t want me to tell anyone, but I did. I was worried about him. 

“It made everything worse. It would’ve been better if I never said anything, which is why I asked you guys to keep quiet about last night. It’s related to the, uh, the thing that happened.”

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. Izuku winces. Todoroki is staring at the ground thoughtfully, and Izuku is positive he understands the most out of any of their classmates exactly what happened last night. 

Maybe he said too much. Izuku doesn’t want a repeat of middle school, but for that to happen he has to tell them something. Otherwise the heroes would be dragged in, and yeesh , Izuku does not want that. Kacchan would definitely kill him. 

“Why can’t we tell the heroes?” Iida questions, looking a bit skeptical. “They have to be able to help Bakugou with whatever this is.”

“I thought so, back in the beginning of the year especially, but then the Sports Festival happened.”

There’s a couple others who also scowl darkly at the reminder. 

“What do you mean?” Uraraka looks confused. 

“They chained him up,” Izuku explains bitterly. “All because he said no. He didn’t feel like the win was justified, which is fair-”

Todoroki sheepishly glances away. “I was holding back,” he admits.

“-and just because of that, they put a muzzle on him and chained him to a cement block. How can I trust them to help when they treat him like that? First time was bad enough. I can’t trust them to handle this.”

While most of the class seemed to already understand at the mention of the Sports Festival incident, now the rest of them are realizing as well. 

Ojiro looks ashamed. “I never realized, but you’re right. The way they treated him was wrong.”

“I didn’t think about it that way either,” Iida admits as he pushes his glasses up his nose.

“Midoriya,” Kaminari begins. “Is Bakugou okay? I mean, just in general.”

“Yeah, he’s okay. This isn’t the first time it's happened. My mom helps him when she can.”

Most of the class relaxes a bit more at this admission.

“So there is an adult helping?” Mina clarifies. 

“Yes,” Izuku says. It's a bit of a stretch, but technically, his mom does help. Or she has in the past, at least. “If it happens again, just come get me, okay?”

“You think it’ll happen again?” Sero bursts out. 

“Maybe.” Izuku doesn’t say: definitely, yes, his mom is a terrible person, but he is thinking it. “It’s probably better just to act like normal. If he finds out I told you this much, he’s not going to be happy. I wouldn’t either, it's his business, but you guys needed to know something. Especially so the teachers don’t find out.”

Kirishima stands up and addresses the class. “How about this? If everyone’s cool with it, we won’t say anything about last night to the teachers. We’ll trust you and your mom to handle whatever is going on, but if things start getting out of hand we’ll tell the teachers what’s happening.”

Izuku nods. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

Kirishima turns to the rest of the class. “Does that work for you guys?”

There’s a mixture of agreements from the lot of them. Izuku relaxes a bit. 

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “It means a lot.”

Mina smiles. “Anything for Blasty. And take care of him. We will, too.”

Izuku smiles back at her. He’s glad to have such understanding classmates. The serious atmosphere dissolves, and some of them get up to head back to their rooms. 

Izuku stands up as well. Kirishima, Mina, Kaminari and Sero wave him over before he can take a step. 

“I’ll need to head back upstairs soon,” Izuku tells them immediately when he approaches.

“Yeah, that's fine.” Kirishima says, waving a hand dismissively.

“This will be quick,” Mina assures him. 

The self proclaimed members of the Bakusquad share a look. 

“We want to say that we’re here for you too,” Sero says after a moment of silence. “You don’t have to help him alone. We’ve also got Bakugou’s back.”

Izuku smiles. “Thanks, guys. I’m glad he has such good friends.”

“If you ever need any help with the Blasty situation, let us know.” Mina says seriously. “We’re worried for him, too. We’ll help out anytime.”

“Thank you. I know he’s happy to have you guys as friends.”

“Anytime man,” Kirishima says as he pats Izuku on the back. “If he gives you any trouble this morning, just call for us.”

Izuku cracks a smile. “Of course.”

They say good bye and Izuku makes his way to the staircase.

Kacchan really does have great friends, he thinks happily as he heads back to his room. 

Izuku is right. 

Kacchan threatens to blow him up after he wakes up hungover an hour later. He begrudgingly mutters a thank you after noticing the white gauze peeking out from his shirt and then disappears before Izuku can even reply. 

Izuku can hear him cussing out one of their classmates that he unfortunately crosses paths with through the closed door. The sound of it almost makes him smile. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki is not doing well. 

It's becoming increasingly obvious to everyone else that he’s going off the rails. Every fucking extra in their class has come up to him at some point over the past couple days to make some comment on his appearance, lackluster performance or overall silence. 

He’s so sick of it. They all need to mind their fucking business. Katsuki will be fine. 

( He always is. )

Katsuki spent the past couple nights waking up out of breath with smoking palms and vague recollections of reaching hands and burning blue fire. Exhaustion permeated every cell of his body. Classes were a drag, and Katsuki could barely remember what day it was anymore. All of the lectures floated in one ear and out the other. For now it was enough of an effort to just show up. 

Izuku was watching him. Katsuki could feel those green eyes studying him, dissecting every bland dismissal he automatically spouted off when anyone questioned his well being. Katsuki couldn’t find it within himself to care anymore. His chest ached with this feeling of hollow emptiness. And he was so, so fucking tired all of the time. How could he be angry when all he wanted to do was fucking sleep? He tried so hard. But he was scared of closing his eyes. He was afraid of what he would see. It didn’t matter how absolutely drained Katsuki was; the nightmares were always there, filling him with mind-numbing panic and shoving him back into wakefulness. 

Katsuki could squeeze a couple hours before he ultimately woke up with a yell stuck in his throat. Sometimes, Kirishima would knock on his door with concerned eyes and Katsuki would have to mutter some bland excuse or apology just to get him to leave. When it was really bad, he would stumble his way to Izuku’s door, muscles trembling and tears drying on his cheeks.

The shadows were a bit too dark and the silence was suffocating. Katsuki would stand outside of Izuku’s door and go back and forth about knocking. 

He never managed to do it. How could he? It was comforting enough just to be there, just outside, a few feet away from Izuku. Katsuki couldn’t speak it aloud, he could never manage to say the words. So he would sit there silently, chasing that satisfying breath that would break the adrenaline charging through his veins. 

Katsuki jolted awake with the phantom feeling of fingers curling around the soft flesh of his throat. Smoke burned his nostrils, a subtle heat tingled along the nerves of his hands. Dabi’s rough laugh filtered through his room, but it was impossible, it had to be impossible for the fucking burnt asshole to be here. 

Frantically, Katsuki scanned his room. 

It was dark, and the shadows seemed to twist, but it was quiet bar the sound of his uneven, desperate breathing. Dabi couldn’t fit in the closet, the door to the half bath was open and the room seemed empty, there was no space under his bed for the man to fit inside, and every corner was bare and empty. 

Alone. Katsuki was alone. 

Breathe. He could breathe. He was safe here. Breathe.

Katsuki ran sweaty fingers through his hair, tugging on the fabric of his shirt with the other. 

It was always some fucked up rotation of the same things. Sometimes it was the feeling of disgusting slime climbing up his body and pooling in his mouth, or the flash of a fist crashing into his nose, or the muzzle and chains holding his body still. Katsuki couldn’t remember the finer details. They always faded quickly after the memories dragged him awake, slipping through his fingers when he tried to hold on to them for some reason, anything to explain why.

Dry, pale skin stretched over spindly fingers, reaching towards him.

Katsuki tugged on his hair and pain prickled his scalp. Safe, he repeated blindly. I'm safe . 

The words were uselessly repeated over and over. But he couldn't-he was alone, and Katsuki couldn’t be alone. They would come, he was sure of it. They would come if he was alone, if not now then later, the shadows are too dark for him to see properly.

Katsuki was up and out of his room before he realized it. His fingers are tingly and he feels not quite there. Half in his body, half out of it. It is not a good feeling, Katsuki needs to be alert. The League could come at any time. The door closes softly behind him and he walks down the hall to the stairs. Maybe Izuku would already be awake. Katsuki forgot to check the time, but hopefully-

“Bakugou?”

The sudden voice splitting the quiet of the night startles him. Katsuki whirls around, facing Kirishima as he makes his way over to Katsuki. His friend rubs the sleep from his red eyes, frowning. 

“You okay, man?”

Katsuki tries to hide his shaking hands in fists. His breath shudders out of his aching lungs. This is fine, Kirishima would not hurt him, and Katsuki knows this but adrenaline is running through his veins, pushing his heart to go faster, faster, faster. 

“I’m fucking fine,” he growls because anger is normal and they expect this from him. “Why’re you up?”

Kirishima shrugs non committedly. He finally comes to a stop in front of Katsuki. “Uh, well-”

Kirishima looks a bit sheepish and Katsuki feels the realization with a swell of guilt when he couldn’t quite meet Katsuki’s eyes. 

“I woke you up?” 

Kirishima is quick to try and soothe him. “Well, no-but I mean, it wasn’t bad. I was already kind of awake?”

Katsuki bites his lip harshly. He couldn’t do anything right. Bad enough he had nightmares, but now he was waking his friends up with them too? Just how loud was he?

Kirishima must've seen the look on his face. Immediately, he shakes his head and tries to make Katsuki feel better. “It's fine, dude, I swear. Are you okay, though?”

“Fine.” He says curtly. It’s not fine. When is it ever fucking fine? Katsuki’s eyes flicker to the staircase. 

“Oh,” Kirishima follows his gaze. “Are you going to Midoriya’s room?”

For some reason, Katsuki’s face grows hot at the insinuation. “The fuck?” He asks quickly, defensiveness bleeding into his tone. Katsuki crosses his arms. 

Kirishima rubs his neck, eyes glancing away. “Well, I don’t know, you guys seemed closer than I originally thought-”

Katsuki is abruptly reminded of the time he showed up drunk in front of his entire class. Shame creeps up his spine and he looks away quickly, walking down the stairs. Okay, fuck this coversation. Christ he needs to get a grip.

Kirishima is left standing alone on their floor. “Oh, okay. Hope it goes well?” Kirishima calls after him as loudly as he can without trying to wake everyone else who is still sleeping.

Katsuki can hear Kirishima begin to leave as he descends down the stairs. It was fine. Kirishima was a friend, so what? Of course people knew about his weird ass relationship with Izuku. He shouldn’t be surprised. 

The others had made some comments the day after it happened, but outside of that, everyone left it alone. Katsuki has the vague feeling that it's because of Izuku, but he hasn’t asked. It’s not worth the awkward conversation, or the acknowledgment of what happened. It’s always been easier to just pretend that those nights don’t happen. It's better to ignore it. 

Abruptly, Katsuki finds himself in front of Izuku’s door again, hand poised to knock. 

And he stays there. 

Katsuki can’t do this. He can’t even fucking knock. What was he even supposed to say? 

‘Oh sorry for waking you up, I know we haven’t talked but I had a nightmare like a fucking child ’?

God, he was so fucking stupid. Katsuki sighed, ready to leave.

Suddenly the door opens and Izuku stares at him with bleary viridian eyes. 

“Kacchan?” His voice is heavy with sleep, and Izuku squints like he’s not sure Katsuki’s really there. 

Katsuki lowers his hand so he doesn’t look like a complete dumbass and pinches the skin on his forearm. Fuck. He can do this. It's simple, really. It’s Izuku. He knows Izuku. All Katsuki has to do is open his fucking mouth . 

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Izuku opens the door wider. “C’mon in.”

Katsuki bites his lip and steps into the room, avoiding eye contact as he surveys the All Might posters and figurines spread around. Vaguely, he can remember throwing up in the half bathroom and curling up on the bed. The memories are hazy. Or it's just him. His head is kind of fuzzy right now. 

“Kacchan? You okay?”

Katsuki blinks. Izuku is seated on the bed, looking concerned. Katsuki hadn’t even noticed Izuku move from the door. He shifts around before hesitantly walking over to settle on the edge of the bed. There’s still a comfortable distance between him and Izuku. And the door is nearby. Did Izuku lock it? 

Katsuki bounces his knee. It shouldn’t matter, he can blow the door open if he needs to. Katsuki isn't trapped here. He’s fine. He’s safe .

“Kat, you’re okay. Just breathe.”

Suddenly Izuku is right in front of him. Katsuki jolts, and it feels like there are fingers on his nape, but that must be impossible because Izuku is safe . His chest is doing that weird thing again. No matter how many times Katsuki tries, it feels like an elastic band is constricting over his chest, and he can’t breathe-

Izuku is still talking in front of him, mouth moving but Katsuki can’t hear him. All the sounds are muffled; there’s a high pitched ringing in his ears. Holy fuck he won’t be able to hear them coming. The room is too dark and Katsuki can’t be sure that there aren’t villains hiding in the shadows. The dorms are safe, but are they really that safe? Katsuki can’t be sure. 

The lights flick on, and small explosions crackle from his palms as he jumps to his feet. A bad idea; Katsuki sways as the lack of oxygen washes over him. 

Izuku is back. Did he leave? He shouldn’t leave, not now, not when Katsuki needs him. A steadying hand wraps around his shoulder, and Katsuki twists away, shoving the person away-

He sinks to the floor, pushing himself back into a corner because there's no one behind him now, so they can’t surprise him. Katsuki still can’t shake the feeling of being trapped. He can’t just fucking settle down. God if only he could breathe. 

“Can I touch you?” Words break through the cacophony of sound, distorted but real and discernable. 

Katsuki shakes his head quickly. They never listen. They’ll grab him anyway. His palms light up in preparation but the touch doesn’t come. 

Katsuki blinks and his vision swims but it's Izuku kneeling in front of him, just out of arm's reach. 

“Izuku?” He wheezes, breaths still escaping him. He feels like he's choking on air. Or maybe there is still sludge hidden away in his lungs, now crawling through his airways to suffocate him. He remembers the feeling of it, thick and slimy. Warm and smooth. 

Izuku’s face crumples with obvious relief. “I’m here, Kat. Can you follow my breathing?”

Izuku breathes in an exaggerated manner, vocalizing in, out. In, out. In, out . 

Katsuki struggles to follow, his lungs still demanding more. It's not enough. Izuku is quiet and patient, stubbornly remaining in the same steady pattern. Katsuki breathes unevenly, fast and slow then fast then slower.

Finally, Katsuki breathes and it feels like enough. They continue like that for a bit longer. Izuku is unflappable, calm and confident against Katsuki’s unraveling. 

“Are you feeling better now?” Izuku asks softly after a couple minutes of measured breathing.  

Katsuki can’t trust his voice not to break, so he nods. 

“Okay,” Izuku says. “Can I sit next to you?”

Katsuki nods again, dropping his head in his hands so he doesn't have to look at him. Things begin to slide into place- there are no villains here, not in Izuku’s sanctuary. There was no one touching him, no one attacking him, no one hiding out in the shadows. And he just had a fucking freak out over a door. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Do you want to talk about it?” Izuku asks him quietly, shifting his legs to get comfortable.

Katsuki isn't sure there’s anything he can say. Embarrassment floods through him and his face warms. “The door,” he finally manages. His voice is hoarse.

“The door?” Izuku repeats cluelessly. 

“I thought it was locked.” Katsuki grips his blonde hair tightly. “It’s fucking stupid.”

“It's not stupid,” Izuku assures him. “The door isn’t locked, not unless you want it to be.”

“No,” he says quickly. Too quickly . Katsuki winces. 

“Does this happen a lot?” 

Katsuki shrugs. Does it? Most times when he wakes up from nightmares he can’t breathe, but he eventually gets his breath back. Sometimes it takes a while. It's fine, though. Katsuki is fine.

“Maybe,” he murmurs. It's not a bad thing. It’s just something that happens. Especially after Kamino. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Katsuki hesitates. He’s not sure why he comes to Izuku’s door at night. He’s never actually knocked and he’s not exactly sure why he finds it comforting to be here. Maybe it's because of their history. 

A brush of soft lips, a flash of green eyes. ‘I love you’ tangles on his tongue. 

“I don’t fucking know,” Katsuki lifts his head. Now is not the time to remember embarrassing middle school memories. Izuku is watching him intensely and he shifts uncomfortably, the feeling that Izuku is reading his mind floats around his head. “I just-”

Katsuki sighs heavily. How do people do this? The words stick in his throat. 

“How do you do this?” Katsuki blurts out instead.

Izuku frowns, soft lips tugging downwards. “Do what?”

“Talk about things,” Katsuki looks at his feet. His face grows warm. “It’s stupid. I can’t talk about this shit. Not unless, well, you know.”

Izuku hums thoughtfully. “Not unless you’re drunk?” 

Katsuki nods, embarrassed again. “It's fucking stupid.”

“It's not stupid, Kacchan.” Izuku runs a hand through his hair. “I know this stuff must be really hard to talk about. I’m not going to judge you. You can say whatever you want and I’ll still be here.”

“Why?” Katsuki digs his palms into his eyes. Guilt and shame curdle his stomach. “After everything, why the fuck are you still nice to me? I don’t get it.”

Izuku is quiet for a moment and Katsuki is ready to run. When Izuku talks, his voice is serious. 

“Katsuki.” 

He flinches at the sound of his first name. 

“What you did wasn’t right, but I know you didn’t mean it. We’ve grown up together. I know you, Kat. Just like you know me. And after everything that happened, I know it wasn’t entirely your fault. I mean, it still doesn’t make it right but I don’t blame you. It was because of your mom right?” His voice lowers on the last question.

Burning red eyes glare harshly down at him. Her mouth opens, curling into a cruel sneer as the bitter words fall from her lips. 

Katsuki tenses. “That's no excuse,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“You didn’t really have a choice,” Izuku tells him. “What would she have done if you didn’t do any of it? She blames me for what happened, doesn’t she?”

Katsuki doesn’t have to confirm anything. They both know the truth. Izuku takes this in stride as he gives a curt nod. “It's okay, Kat.”

“I shouldn't have done it,” Katsuki says. The guilt is back. Katsuki is beginning to think it will always be there, hidden just around the corner. “It doesn’t matter what she did, I still shouldn’t have-”

“You were scared, Kat.” Izuku says firmly. “Of course you shouldn’t have done it. But it's alright. I understand.”

“So?” Katsuki feels tears burn in his eyes. “I-I am sorry. I can’t stop thinking about it every time I see you and I know it's all my fault. I was a shitty person. You were just trying to help. It's not your fault that she-” His voice dies in his throat as the tears spill over. Katsuki trembles. 

He remembers blood pooling under his arms. The warm, stickiness clotting under his fingernails. 

“I know you didn’t actually mean it. I’m not sure if that does help, but I know you were kind of cornered back then.”

Katsuki shakes his head, and the memories fall away. Tears are dripping down his face. Katsuki isn’t sure the reason behind them anymore. “It’s still a fucked up thing for me to do. I’m so sorry, you know? I’m so ashamed of what I did and what I said, and all I can think whenever I see you is that I’m becoming just like her.”

“You’re not.” A muscle twitches in Izuku's jaw, and his vivid green eyes stare deeply into Katsuki. “You’re not like her, Kat.”

“Aren’t I, though? I said those things, and-and I fucking hurt you, and that's what she wanted from me.”

Izuku shakes his head vigorously. “Yeah, but what would she have done if you didn’t?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki says miserably. “I should've been better.”

“You were a kid, Kat. You still are. She’s your mom, she's not supposed to do these things to you. If she didn’t want you talking to me, it's not your fault for trying to avoid her punishments.”

The word punishment is said carefully, and Katsuki can hear the underlying disgust Izuku has for the ‘punishments’. 

“Katsuki, it's okay. I forgive you. I always have.”

Katsuki nods but it's mostly to get Izuku to stop talking. He doesn’t want to talk about middle school. Katsuki doesn’t want to remember anymore. They’ll never agree on this.

Katsuki is so, so tired.

“Okay.”

They’re silent again.

Katsuki wipes the tears from his eyes. The terror from early is finally beginning to fade from his trembling body. Fatigue is settling deep within his bones. No matter how tired he is, Katsuki doesn’t want to sleep again. He can’t handle another round of terrifying dreams. 

“Do you want to talk about why you’re awake this late?”

Katsuki shakes his head. “Fuck no.”

“Okay then. Do you want to try to sleep?”

Katsuki shakes his head again. “Definitely not.”

There’s another lull of silence. Katsuki can almost hear Izuku’s brain working. 

“Does this happen a lot?” Izuku finally asks.

Katsuki just shrugs. 

He hears Izuku sigh through his nose. “You should go to Recovery Girl. She could probably give you something to help you sleep.”

“I don’t want to be fucking stuck.” Katsuki admits as he fiddles with a hangnail. “I can’t.”

“I’m always here. You can always come to me, anytime, okay?” Izuku’s voice is so soft, so fucking honest. He means it, Izuku means every word of that. 

Katsuki nods. “Okay.”

“Don’t be afraid to knock,” Izuku says and then he pushes himself up and holds a hand out to Katsuki. “You’re safe here.”

Katsuki takes his hand and he’s hauled to his feet. Izuku smothers a yawn behind his hand. 

“Go the fuck to bed.”

Izuku hums. “Will you stay here?”

“Maybe. I don’t want to keep you up.” Katsuki shifts around.

“Are you sure you don’t want to try and sleep?” Izuku tries again. 

“Fuck no. I’ll do homework or some shit.”

Izuku walks over to the bed and lays down, eyes slipping shut. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Grab your stuff and come back.”

Katsuki nods, but Izuku doesn’t see it. He slips out the door, leaving it cracked and hurries to his room and back.

When he returns, a book bag slung over his shoulder, Izuku is snoring lightly. Katsuki smiles as he shuts the door behind him and settles in at Izuku’s desk. There are All Might figures here too. One of them is an older model, and Katsuki recognizes it because he was the one to give it to Izuku. 

Katsuki pulls out the assignment for English due next week. 

He sets the paper in front of him and twiddles the pencil between his fingers. The whiteness of the paper burns his eyes, and he reaches up to rub them. It's not hard. He can manage to write a fucking essay. But words are getting all muddled inside his head, and Katsuki doesn’t realize how long he’s staring at the blank paper trying to wrestle his thoughts into some conceivable manner until Izuku’s alarm suddenly begins blaring. 

Shit. God fucking damnit. 

Izuku stirs, reaching out to slap the alarm off. The nerd groans and tilts his head to blink slowly at Katsuki. 

“Morning, nerd.” Katsuki grunts out, reaching for some semblance of normality between them. His head is still cloudy, and he’s really fucking tired. He grabs the blank fucking paper and shove his shit inside his bag.

“You didn’t sleep?” Izuku sits up and yawns. 

Obviously fucking not. Katsuki scoffs.

“What do you think?”

Izuku just grunts, looking mildly irritated. “You’re prickly this morning.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Katsuki slings his bag over his shoulder and shoves the desk chair in. 

“You’re leaving?” Izuku asks. Suddenly he’s trying to detangle himself from his All Might sheets. “Wait-”

“Fuck off.” 

Katsuki slams the door behind him and stomps over to the stairs. He can do this, he can be normal. Katsuki needs one day, just one day where everything goes right. He’s reaching that point of insomnia where he’ll crash completely, knocking out for hours like he’s dead.

It’s early enough that none of the other extras from their class are meandering around yet, which Katsuki finds himself grateful for. A few extra moments of peace. He could picture the smug fucking grins on their faces if they saw him leaving fucking Izuku’s room. 

‘Oh Bakugou, what were you doing last night?’

Katsuki growls unintelligibly under his breath. Jesus fucking Christ. He’d blast them all before they could even get the words out of their mouths. 

He’s closing the door to his own room just as someone’s door opens down the hall. 

Katsuki gets ready for class, and heads down to the kitchen to find something for breakfast. He’s not really feeling that hungry so he just grabs a granola bar and throws a water bottle in his bag. 

His eyes feel heavy. His entire body feels heavy. Katsuki can feel the lack of sleep catching up to him slowly. It’s like every night he sleeps less than the one before. 

Katsuki takes a deep breath, pastes an irritated scowl on his face and marches to class. 

He can wear his anger like a second skin. Katsuki can be just enough of what he needs to be. Katsuki settles into his seat for class, tossing his bag on the ground. The classroom is empty and blissfully silent. 

Time for another day of bullshit. 

The dorms are silent. The night is cool, clouds drifting away from a pale moon. Moonlight shines through the window of Katsuki's room, silver light illuminating the floors.

Blood drips on the white tile flooring. 

Katsuki pants heavily. The silver blade shakes in trembling fingers. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck .”

His thigh stings sharply, pain throbbing through the muscle. He can’t quite catch his breath. It has to be okay. It will be okay, he knows that. 

Blood trails down his leg, warm and heavy. It was a disturbingly satisfying sight. Another droplet splatters onto the floor. A low whine slips out of his throat unwillingly.  

This was supposed to make Katsuki feel better. This was supposed to fucking fix him. So why was he feeling worse? Why hasn’t the anxiety burning in his chest gone away yet? 

His leg fucking hurt . 

“I’m okay,” Katsuki whispers softly out loud. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

He sets the blade down on the counter. Crimson blood smears against the cream counter. Katsuki trembles at the sight. He was a hero. He’s seen blood before. He’s seen his own blood plenty of times before. And worse, wounds so much worse than this. He’s seen flesh cleaved open, muscles torn to shreds and bone visible through a torrent of blood. 

Why did it bother him so much now?

Katsuki presses gauze over the wound. The blood is soaking through quickly. Shit. He holds it with one hand, reaching clumsily for another wad on the counter. 

More. 

More and more and more.

Katsuki whines.

He’s cold. Every muscle is twitching and there’s a sheen of sweat on his body. Katsuki shivers and swallows against the sudden swirl of nausea in his gut. He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.

Finefinefinefinefinefinefine-

Katsuki exhales shakily and removes the soiled gauze. He grabs more, and inspects the wound. It's deep, the pink and purple flesh below the white layer of fat is showing. The blood fills in quickly, spilling over the edge of the wound to run down his leg. 

Katsuki bites his lip. He quickly presses the gauze down, ignoring the ripple of pain at the contact.

The injury is deep. It will definitely be an issue tomorrow, and he prays to any god listening that it doesn’t get infected. The gauze is filling with red again.

Maybe this time- maybe he needs help. Katsuki considers it for a moment. How would he even tell someone? Text them? 

‘Hey sorry to bother you, but I accidentally cut myself and its pretty deep’

No. No, he can’t do that. Katsuki could barely open his mouth about his fucking nightmares, and that was to Izuku. Fuck no. And then they’ll put him in some suicide watch shit? Fuck that. 

Something inside is unraveling. Katsuki edges on the border of complete panic, struggling to hold himself together as the blood continues to register in the background as warm. The blood is oozing, running down his leg, spilling out of him and he’s leaking, this thing inside him is expanding quickly. 

Katsuki drops another pile of soaked gauze and grabs another thick wad. He inhales sharply before pressing it down again. Katsuki closes his eyes, reaching blindly across the counter for the roll of medical tape. He needs to wrap this shit fast. If it bleeds through, it bleeds through. Katsuki will change it later. He grabs the tape and begins securing the gauze plastered over the cut. 

There. Katsuki leans against the wall. It’s okay now.

For a minute, Katsuki just keeps whispering quietly, “I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s all okay.” As if the words could actually hold power over him. It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid and Katsuki would never admit it to anyone. He did this shit to himself and now he’s freaking out over a bit of blood? He’s so fucking weak . 

There is something fundamentally wrong with him. Katsuki would love to find it so he can tear it out of his body. He closes his eyes, breathing shakily. There’s still an electric charge of energy thrumming through his flesh. Underneath that current, there’s a blanket of fatigue that soaks through. He is simultaneously ready to run a mile and pass out into dreamless sleep. 

God, it's even more tiring. The feelings are inescapable.

Maybe he’s dying. This is the beginning of the end. It feels a bit like that. There’s this impending feeling that Katsuki can’t shake off. Like he’s going to die soon. 

He tries to think about what his life will be like in the future, but the visions feel wrong. They feel fake. Katsuki just can’t picture himself living any farther than this. Even outside of all of this shit, Katsuki just can't see it. It feels impossible. Unreal.

Katsuki’s head lolls to the side. 

Whatever seized his body before is fading. His chest feels empty. There’s nothing to feel. Katsuki is the blank paper from early this morning.

It wouldn’t be so bad , Katsuki thinks tiredly as his eyes slip shut. Death actually sounds fucking nice.  

Chapter Text

God, how long had it been since he’d been able to sleep through the night? Katsuki wondered as he chugged a bitter mug of lukewarm coffee. 

Classes began in the next ten minutes. All of his classmates had already left and were probably all situated in the classroom, ready for their day.

Katsuki had finally dragged his ass out of bed ten minutes ago, shoving his weary limbs into a semi clean uniform and running a toothbrush over his teeth quickly. Someone had left a bit of coffee in the pot which Katsuki gratefully downed. He wasn’t typically a coffee drinker, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Honestly, Katsuki had strongly considered skipping class today. If it wasn’t for the absolute guarantee that Aizawa would immediately call his mother, Katsuki would still be sleeping upstairs. And still, even the threat of his mother’s rage wasn’t enough to erase the doubts in his mind. Maybe it was worth it this time. 

Katsuki was just so fucking tired.

He snagged one of Sero’s energy drinks from the fridge, too. Katsuki isn’t a fan of these but he needs something. He is struggling to gather enough energy to keep his eyes open. 

Katsuki stumbles out the door, cracking open the can and gulping some of it down. 

Ugh. This is too fucking sweet. 

Katsuki glances at his watch, groaning. Five minutes until the final bell. Fucking hell, he’ll probably squeeze by. Barely, though. 

Waking up with blood crusted down his legs and piles of bloody gauze around him had been frightening in itself. Compared to that, the consequence of showing up a couple minutes late to class was acceptable. Fuck Aizawa, he could suck a dick. Katsuki had never been late before. One day wasn’t the end of the world.

His leg aches with the reminder of last night’s activities. Katsuki winces. Christ, he went too deep. 

Katsuki pushes the building’s door open, walking down empty halls. He’s about to turn down the hallway to his classroom when something moves in the corner of his eye.

Katsuki spins around, heart hammering against his ribs. He’s suddenly tense. His body dredges up energy; every sense is dialed up to twenty and his posture automatically shifts into a defensive position. 

The hallway is quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary is visible. There’s not a person out here but him.

Katsuki sighs heavily but he can’t bring himself to move from his defensive posture. 

They could be hiding, he rationalizes. They could be anywhere. 

His breathing quickens. 

This is UA. Katsuki is supposed to be safe here. But they did kidnap him at a school event last time. And they attacked the class at the beginning of the year at a UA facility. And they made it on to campus before that.

Katsuki’s fingers twitch as his eyes dart around. He scans the trash bin, the lockers, the little nook created for the water fountain. 

Really, is it so difficult to believe they wouldn’t be here? They’ve done this so many times before. They could easily do it again, and Katsuki was alone, he was unprotected he was-

The bell rings.

Katsuki jumps in the air. He presses his hand over his racing heart, struggling to get his breath back. Just the bell. 

His lungs burn. There’s not enough air in them. 

It was just the bell. 

Katsuki wheezes. Nobody’s attacking. 

He watches over the hallway, backing up into the wall and looking both directions. It was empty. There wasn’t a soul around. 

Katsuki was fine. Katsuki was safe. Katsuki was not in danger.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before he believed any of it. His breathing slowly relaxed to a normal rate. His lungs no longer felt like they were suffocating. Safe, he has to keep reminding himself. The hallway is quiet. Classes must’ve begun already. 

Katsuki risks glancing at his watch.

Fuck. He’s fifteen minutes late to homeroom. 

Katsuki slinks into the classroom. 

Aizawa immediately stops talking. Every single one of his classmates turns their heads to look at him as he walks over to his desk, a scowl glued to his face. He avoids their eyes. 

“Welcome to class,” Aizawa drawls lazily from behind him after he passes by. “Good to see you finally decided to join us.”

Katsuki scoffs. What the fuck did those losers usually say? Overslept? Got lost? It's not like it actually mattered. Late was late. Excuses were just that: excuses. Katsuki didn’t feel the need to lie about it, but he wasn’t going to tell the truth either.

“Whatever.” Katsuki drops into his seat, rummaging around in his bag to pull out the required materials.

“Usually when my students come late to class, they at least try to explain why.” Aizawa raises an eyebrow, arms crossed.

Clearly, the man had nothing better to do than to get on his fucking case about it. Katsuki was feeling snarky today. He rolled his eyes, twisting a pen between fingers. So Aizawa wanted a fucking explanation? Sure. Fucking fine . 

“Lets see,” Katsuki sneers. “My alarm didn’t go off. No, wait. I think I forgot my homework. Or, no actually nevermind. I just felt like coming in late today.”

There was a moment of silence. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for some inevitable consequence to slap Katsuki in the face. 

Katsuki cocks his head. Anger burns hot in his stomach. He wants to hit something. He wants to yell. He wants to fight someone. “Which fucking excuse sounds better to you? Or how about this one: I just didn’t give a shit .”

The room is utterly quiet. No one dares to breathe. 

Aizawa’s face has fallen flat. His nostrils flare. “Stay after class,” he says easily, irritation flickering in his eyes momentarily before it was buried under the hero’s usual emotionless demeanor.

Katsuki huffs, leaning back in the uncomfortable seat. Fuck him. What did he want? Katsuki to tell him, ‘Oh, I’m so sorry sensei, I freaked out over nothing like a fucking idiot.’ There was no way in fucking hell Katsuki was admitting to anything even close to the truth, especially with the eyes of everyone in class on him. Fucking dumbass.

“Whatever you fucking want,” Katsuki agrees, anger burning through every blood vessel. 

Aizawa narrows his eyes, and for a moment, they stare at each other. Aizawa’s eyes resemble black holes when they are not illuminating red with his quirk. For some reason, he remembers Thirteen, bloody and bruised, trembling in front of Kurogiri as he exploded his smoky essence around them. There had been a moment before the shitty teleportation quirk had spit them back out where Katsuki felt weightless. There was nothing to feel, no time for fear, no substance of anything, really. Katsuki had felt infinite.

He imagined death to be the same.  

Instead of rising to the bait, something in Aizawa’s expression changes. It is gone before Katsuki could even hope to recognize it. And just like that, Aizawa turns to the rest of the class and continues teaching like nothing happened. 

Katsuki blinks. 

What the fuck?

The anger drains from his body as quickly as it came, leaving him empty and tired. They haven't even made it past homeroom and Katsuki is ready for the day to be over. 

What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Snapping back at his teacher? Freaking out in a hallway? Showing up late to class? Everyone knows Katsuki, and they may know that he’s prickly at best and downright pissy at his worst, but he just doesn’t do whatever the fuck this is. 

Katsuki stares down blankly at this desk. He makes no move to take notes and doesn't even attempt to listen to the lecture. It doesn't matter. Not right now. 

It was like there was a parasite inside of him, eating away at his mind. Katsuki felt like pretty soon there would be nothing left of him. He wasn’t the person to show up late to class. Or snap at his teacher like that. What the fuck was going on with him? Katsuki didn’t even feel like himself anymore. This was someone else, this was something else, controlling him like a puppet.

Katsuki could feel the concerned glances his classmates sent his way. It didn’t matter. None of it did. What the fuck could they do for him anyway?

He didn’t want them to look. He didn’t want the sea of eyes glaring at him, watching his every move. That squeezing feeling wrapped around his ribs again, and a thrum of excited, nervous energy burst through his body. 

Not here, he begged. I can’t do this here.

Katsuki drew in a quiet, deep breath. He could breathe. They weren’t looking. 

Worms wriggle through his gut and Katsuki felt like puking. 

But what would come up? He thought wildly. Coffee and an energy drink?

His finger tapped against the desk. He has to move. Katsuki needed to do something. But what? There were no enemies to fight here, no one to blame. Katsuki couldn’t control his classmate's fucking eyes. 

A gentle, nearly inaudible murmur of words comes from behind him. 

“Kacchan, breathe.”

He forgot. He forgot to breathe.
Katsuki let his lungs expand, that burning desire, that suffocating feeling that it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough-

“Keep breathing, Kat. You’re okay,” Izuku whispers, voice nearly inaudible. 

Katsuki listens. He breathes, in and out. It takes all of his focus to ignore the feeling of drowning, of suffocation, and he has to remind his body that he can breathe. This is enough. It has to be. 

Eventually, the tight band wrapped around his ribcage loosens. Breathing didn’t feel so mechanical or desperate. Katsuki lets his muscles relax, releasing them one by one. 

God, he hoped no one noticed that embarrassing display. Katsuki risked a glance around the class. All of his classmates seem to be either in their own heads or focused on Aizawa up front. Katsuki relaxes further. Izuku was the only one who noticed his moment of weakness. 

Izuku didn’t say anything else for the rest of class. 

Katsuki fought against the dwindling urge to run, to let loose violent explosions from his palms, to do anything other than sit there silently. Aizawa’s voice served as white noise, droning on behind the thin blanket of panic. Katsuki lets it lull him into a separate headspace. 

The feeling is almost second nature to him now. A simple disconnect. Like flipping a switch.

Emotions fade. Noises fade. Katsuki fades.

The residual anxiety bleeds away from his body. Sounds blur together to form one vague smear against a background of emptiness. Thoughts float distantly in his mind, just out of reach.

Katsuki breathes. 

It's like this sometimes. He separates from his body. The feelings and emotions holding him captive let go and he can just step away from all of it. 

Sometimes he can’t control it. 

During his captivity with the League of Villains, Katsuki disconnected from himself. He had to get away, even for a little while, from Toga’s knives and Dabi’s smoldering hands. An escape in the middle of everything.

The memories are all disjointed now; puzzle pieces scrambled around in a mess. Sometimes he'll see a flash of a silver knife, slick with blood, or feel the weight of a burning hand on his neck. But that is all they ever are. They never shift and piece themselves together to form a coherent stream of memory.

Katsuki does not miss them, whatever they are. These flashes are enough. 

It was easy enough to lie, when the detectives had asked. Their questions weren't too invasive. After all, the fight was over and the enemies were mostly captured. It didn't matter anymore. So Katsuki embellished on his faint recollection of heavy chains and angry voices. They didn't ever question the story he told them. 

Katsuki can’t remember how he learned it. He just remembers being able to disconnect when the hag hit him too much and everything hurt too badly. He remembers the fuzziness in his mind stretching back when his body was smaller. Katsuki couldn’t tell you the exact age. It’s like all of his memories of childhood are wrapped in smoke. Sometimes one emerges clear and distinct, but most memories are vague and hazy. Katsuki can roughly associate them with the past, but the exact circumstance or timeframe is skewed. 

It can be a useful skill. 

Katsuki tried to explain it to Izuku once, when they were younger, but his friend just looked at him in confusion. Then he started asking all sorts of dangerous questions. Katsuki threatened to punch him in the face and they never brought it up again.

( He’s not his mother. He’s not. But sometimes he acts just like her. )

Through the haze, the sensation of a hand on his shoulder emerges. There’s a blend of sound, of something familiar that he should know and recognize without a thought. Everything begins to sharpen into focus. 

“-cchan.”

He blinks.

“Kacchan,” Izuku says softly again. Izuku bites his lip and squeezes the hand on his shoulder. 

“Huh?” Katsuki has to blink a couple times before everything fully shifts into focus. 

The classroom is pretty much empty. The only ones still hanging around besides them are Kirishima and Kaminari, who are both watching from the other side of the room as they pack up their belongings slowly. Aizawa is up front at the teacher’s desk, arms crossed over his chest and mouth hidden by the fabric of his capture weapon. His dark eyes meet Katsuki’s.

“Class is over.” Izuku explains. 

He has a feeling it's not the first time Izuku has told him this. 

“Right.” His own voice comes through sounding distant. 

Izuku’s brows furrow. “Are you okay?”

Things start to slide into place- the empty classroom, Izuku’s presence and the watchful eyes of his remaining classmates and teacher. A flicker of irritation shoots through him. Katsuki scowls. “I’m fucking fine. Are you gonna leave or not?”

Izuku frowns, but he pulls his hand away. “Fine. I’ll see you later, Kacchan.”

Izuku leaves the classroom, with Kirishima and Kaminari following closely behind. Katsuki shoves his shit in his bag and makes his way to Aizawa’s desk. Aizawa hasn’t taken his eyes off of him yet. Katsuki struggles to resist the urge to look at the floor.

“You wanted to talk to me, sensei?” Katsuki tags on the honorific belatedly. 

Aizawa stays silent. Then he reaches to grab a packet of papers off to the side and riffles through them, before selecting one and handing it out for Katsuki to take.

He huffs and grabs the paper, skimming it quickly.

It’s a test. His test, if the messily scrawled ‘Bakugou Katsuki’ at the top is anything to go by. But as he reads the contents, it's becoming obvious what the conversation is going to be about. There’s a myriad of red marked across the paper. And next to his name, an equally red and disappointing ‘53’. 

Katsuki doesn’t react outwardly, but he’s freaking out on the inside. A grade low enough to warrant a call home. His mother was pissed enough at him. This? A fucking 53 on a test he barely remembers taking? She was going to freak out.

Katsuki swallows hard. It would be bad. Very, very fucking bad. 

He looks back at Aizawa. The man has yet to speak a word. 

“So?” He forces himself to growl out. His fingers tremble anyway, and he slaps the paper on the desk with an annoyed sigh to cover up his weakness. 

Aizawa is silent still.

“What about it?” Katsuki tries again. 

Aizawa finally shifts in his chair, steepling his hands and taking a deep breath. “Why don’t you tell me, kid?”

Katsuki’s mouth thins. “I don’t want to play fucking games with you.”

Dark eyes narrow as he spits the words out. Something close to fear chills him to his bones. Katsuki has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from stepping backward. The taste of iron washes over his tongue.

“Neither do I. You know what this means, Bakugou. I’m supposed to call home when you receive a grade like this.”

“Tch.” Katsuki looks away quickly, glaring at the door. If only he could escape. “Get it over with then.”

It's not like his mother will drag him home. She’ll ask, all polite and calm as she tells him to go fuck himself, then she’ll kill him when he steps through the door. Piece of fucking cake.

“Bakugou,” his sensei says sternly. Then, he clears his throat and starts again in a softer tone of voice. “Kid, frankly, I’m worried about you. I don’t want to call home because this is out of the norm for you. Normally, you’re one of my top achievers-”

Katsuki scowls again. Right. Now he’s just a fucking failure. 

“-and now you’re barely getting by. Failing tests, not paying attention in class, and you showed up late to class today.”

“Everyone shows up late sometimes. Why the fuck is it so special when I do it?”

“Kid.” Katsuki finally looks up. Aizawa has a weird look on his face, brows furrowed and eyes shining with something other than the inherent fatigue that's always surrounding him. Katsuki can relate to the feeling. “You look like you’re about to keel over from exhaustion. You’re not usually disrespectful to your teachers, especially in front of the entire class. Something is going on.”

“Sure,” Katsuki snarks, rolling his eyes. “Something has to be fucking wrong.”

Aizawa sighs. “Bakugou, I’m sorry. I should’ve checked in on you sooner. I was hoping you would talk to your parents about this and maybe they were handling the situation, but your behavior has only gotten worse.”

Behavior. His fucking behavior. The word strikes a chord with him. He shuffles his foot on the tile flooring. God, he just wants to fucking sleep. He doesn’t need Aizawa pretending to care about him. Or even give a shit about his sleep. 

“Whatever.” His voice is wavering dangerously. Katsuki digs his nails into the soft flesh of his palms. The pain is sharp. 

“Bakugou, look at me,” Aizawa’s voice is unusually gentle. 

Nervously, Katsuki cracks his knuckles before meeting his sensei’s dark eyes. 

Aizawa also looks tired, but worried too, and Katsuki hates seeing that expression on his teacher’s face. How can he talk about being fucking tired when he has those dark eyebags permanently etched on his fucking face? 

Hypocrite.

These days, it’s hard to hold on to anger. Or any emotion, for that matter. Katsuki feels drained. The urge to pick a fight dissipates. His shoulders slump and he sighs heavily, finally breaking his teacher’s gaze.

“What do you want from me?” He says tiredly. 

The classroom goes silent. There's a faint whir as the AC clicks on somewhere above them.

“I’m worried about you,” Aizawa admits. “Talk to me, kid. Something's up.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Katsuki deflects flatly. “Everything is fine.”

“Kid, it's not fine. This-” Aizawa waves a hand in Katsuki’s direction. 

Immediately Katsuki steps back, tense and wary. 

A fist crashes into his stomach, the force of it causes him to gag painfully. The hag spits angry words, nothing he can make out through the blur of pain and shock roiling through his gut. 

They both freeze. Aizawa's hand remains in the air, nowhere close to Katsuki's body. Small pops crackle along his hands before they’re quickly smothered by glowing red eyes.

“Bakugou, are you alright?” Aizawa’s voice floats from somewhere near him. 

Not at home. Not at home. Not at home. Not at home, not at homenotathome-

“Fine,” He croaks. Katsuki trembles. His fingers twitch against his thigh, against the swath of bandages and taped gauze holding that part of him together. HHe feels a bit like that, right now. Like he's falling apart into pieces, like whatever is holding him together is coming undone.

He needs to be angry, he needs to be safe. Katsuki reaches for it, pushing aside blind panic and the urge to run because fuck him. 

Fuck Aizawa for keeping him here, fuck Aizawa for dragging out this pointless conversation and fuck everyone for getting up in his goddamn business. 

Katsuki narrows his eyes, straightening his back and glaring at his homeroom teacher, who’s hand is still frozen in the air as he regards Katsuki with a careful look.

“Are we fucking done here?” Katsuki snarls. He feels distant from himself, even now. Like his body truly is a puppet. “I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

His fingers curl into fists. Nails bite into flesh. Katsuki feels blood welling up under his nails, warm and wet. 

Aizawa lowers his hand, finally. His eyes stop glowing, and now he just looks like someone’s handed him the last piece to the fucking puzzle. Katsuki wants to deck him in the face.

But that would get me expelled, Katsuki sneers to himself. 

“I’m excusing you from hero classes today.”

Katsuki rears back. What the fuck? “Are you fucking serious?”

Aizawa furrows his brow. “You’re not really in fighting form today, kid. Go get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow morning.”

Anger bubbles inside and Katsuki seethes. Before he explodes, he storms out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him as he stalks back to the dorms. He feels like a tightly wound clock, primed to burst. The words still grate against his ears. 

Weak. Katsuki hates that his teachers sees him as such, but it's the only reason he would keep him from training. Aizawa thinks he's fucking weak.

Maybe some tiny, miniscule part of him was grateful for the excuse. Maybe some part of him was actually fucking glad to have a perfectly reasonable excuse to get some blissful hours of sleep. Maybe Katsuki wasn’t entirely infuriated. 

But, then again, having Aizawa excuse him from class when his classmate’s eyes are already focused a tad too much on him is a fucking embarrassment in itself. Honestly, Katsuki couldn’t get it together enough to participate in fucking hero class? Those classes were the entire reason he was at this school in the first place. 

Katsuki huffed as he stomped through the corridors. Everyone was at the cafeteria for lunch, so most of the hallways were empty. There was the occasional student meandering through, but they typically disappeared quickly after they caught sight of him. 

And that did not bother him.

Well, he was glad to be alone, but he was also pissed to be getting such a reaction from the rest of the students here. They didn’t even know him, and now they were avoiding him?

Katsuki slowed his steps. 

These fucking extras didn’t know who he was, but they obviously saw him as at least a threat to be avoiding him so strongly. Katsuki wasn’t sure how he should feel about that, but he didn’t feel good. 

The not caring, the avoidance, the fucking emptiness filled his chest, sucking away anger and shame and whatever the fuck else, leaving nothing behind. 

Katsuki was so fucking tired.

The rest of the walk to the dorms was more of a chore than anything else. He didn’t cross paths with anyone else, thank god, but somehow he found himself missing the company of another person. But he was also grateful to be alone. Katsuki didn’t understand what he wanted anymore.

Maybe Izuku. Izuku would understand. And he would be great to talk to right now.

Fucking embarssing, though. Asking for his childhood friends which he had bullied and treated like shit except behind closed doors. God, there was so much fucking wrong with him.

Katsuki's phone chimed from his pocket and he pulled it out as he slipped into the common room.

Dread filled his gut as he saw the hag’s contact flash across the screen.

Hag: Come home this weekend.

And wasn't this the fucking icing on the cake? Katsuki sighs out loud. Maybe it was a good thing, but maybe she was pissed. He was never sure. He shot off a response quickly. Before she got mad that he took too long to reply.

Katsuki: ok

There. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and hurried up the stairs. No sense in trying to force anything down while his stomach was tying itself in knots.

Katsuki rushed into his room, locking the door and shedding his heavy bag on the floor by the entrance. Fatigue clung to his limbs like honey, and he flops onto the bed.

Pulling a blanket or the covers over his body feels like too much of an effort. So does taking off his uniform. 

Katsuki closes his eyes. He doesn't think about his mother, or Aizawa or his classmates. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep.

Katsuki doesn’t wake up to the frantic knocking on his door. He doesn’t wake up to the slew of text messages and calls. He doesn’t even stir when the hag calls him later on that night.

He finally awakes to a dark, starry sky and the faint addition of moonlight illuminating his floor.

His mouth is dry and his limbs feel heavy. Katsuki rubs sleep from his eyes and takes his phone from his pocket. His body is uncomfortably warm, and the sheets are tangled around his legs. 

Katsuki squints against the bright light of his phone. There’s an onslaught on texts and missed calls. A dull pain throbs in his temples as he struggles to read the time. 

8:26pm  

There’s a bunch of texts from members of his class, and Aizawa, but the most worrying is the missed call from his mom. Katsuki winces. It's too late to respond now, he’ll have to deal with it later on. 

The text from Aizawa is just confirming the time of their meeting in the morning, and then a casual ‘how are you’ message. Katsuki sends the confirmation and some version of ‘I’m okay but leave me alone’ that he hopes sounds respectful enough. 

Then there’s all the messages from his classmates. Most are just asking where he was during class, or asking if he’s okay. Katsuki doesn’t respond to those. He lets his phone fall on the mattress next to him as he stares at the ceiling.

It's really not worth the effort of going downstairs to eat something. Despite his dreamless nap, Katsuki still feels tired. He stares at the ceiling for a bit more before he finally gets up, unbuttoning his jacket and chucking the clothes on the floor. 

Katsuki pulls on a black shirt and shorts. 

Maybe he should at least get a drink of water. His throat is dry as a desert, and he feels sweaty and gross from the nap. Mind made up, Katsuki slips out of his room and heads to the kitchen in the common room. 

There’s still a good bit of his classmates spread around the couches. They lack good sleeping habits (not that Katsuki is currently any better off), and the students that rank lower in the class have homework spread out in front of them as they cram it in before class tomorrow. Katsuki ignores the ones that call out to him on his path to the kitchen. He disappears from their view, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with the pitcher of water.

Kirishima appears at the entrance to the kitchen. Katsuki eyes him before chugging the water and filling the glass again.

“You alright man?” 

“Fine.”

“Where were you today?”

Katsuki sets the glass down in the sink. It's not really worth the effort of washing it. He can do it in the morning, when there are no people around to question his every move.

“Places.”

Katsuki turns away from the sink. They stare at each other. He doesn't feel the urge to elaborate any further than that. All he really wants is to sink under his covers and sleep until the nightmares wake him up. 

“I’m worried about you,” Kirishima says. 

Katsuki doesn’t know how to respond to something like that. “Okay,” he says.

Kirishima bites his lip and looks up to the ceiling. There’s nothing out of ordinary up there, so Katsuki drags his gaze back down. “I’m fine,” he tries again.

“No you’re not.” Kirishima mumbles. Finally, Kirishima meets his eyes again. Whatever he found so fascinating about the ceiling was gone. “You’ve been different, lately. And I wanted to talk to you about it before I went to Aizawa.”

Katsuki bristles. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

Kirishima gives him an incredulous look. “Why? Bakugou, you’ve been distant for weeks. I don’t know if you ever sleep, and I can hear you wake up sometimes in the middle of the night-”

Katsuki scowls. “Okay, assh-”

“-and you never eat with us anymore. You were saying all of that stuff this morning, and you’re never like that with the teachers. I mean, you were late to class and then you didn’t even show for the rest of the day.”

Kirishima’s face crumples. “I’m worried about you. Please, Bakugou, just talk to me. Or Midoriya, just someone. Whatever is going on, you’re not okay.”

“So what? If I don’t talk to someone you’ll go tell on me for not sleeping?” Katsuki spits out. 

“Yes. Because you’re different lately. Not in a good way. You need help, man.” Kirishima's eyes shine softly. 

“Fuck you.” Katsuki moves to leave, but Kirishima holds a hand out.

“Please, Bakugou. Was it the villains? Did they do something to you?”

Katsuki flinches. 

Kirishima freezes, immediately dropping his arm. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn't have-”

“It’s fine.” He swallows hard. It was fine. “Just fuck off.”

Katsuki breaks away towards the stairs, ignoring the calls of his name from behind. 

When he closes his door, Katsuki sinks to the floor and tries to remember what breathing feels like. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, Katsuki makes his way to class early and tries to ignore the weight of the permission slip in his pocket. For a piece of paper, it feels like the weight of the world. He’s oddly aware of every movement the paper makes in his pocket as he walks. 

His thigh still aches from the other day. Katsuki tries to focus on the feeling of his skin pulling apart rather than the folded paper dragging him to the floor. 

Katsuki doesn’t bother knocking on the door. He walks in, and Aizawa looks up from where he’s grading papers. 

“Sit down,” his sensei says, waving towards the school desks in front of him. 

Katsuki plops down and bounces his knee. He brings the paper out and puts it on Aizawa's desk.

“The hag wants me home this weekend.” The words taste like ash in his mouth.

Aizawa pauses. “Okay,” he sets his pen down to meet Katsuki’s eyes. “Parent’s Day is this Friday, are they taking you home after?”

Parent’s Day?

Katsuki echoes the question out loud. Aizawa’s mouth turns down into a frown. “I told the class about it yesterday. Ah, but I guess you missed that announcement.”

Katsuki shifts around. He can’t imagine the hag coming to a fucking Parent’s Day thing. She’s not the type to follow school bullshit either, so the chances of her actually arriving are slim to none. 

“Do they already know about it?” He asks. 

Aizawa pushes the paper he’d been grading to the side and grabs the permission slip. His pen scratches loudly against the paper, looping and dashing to scribble out the signature. Katsuki watches him sign off. 

“The letters were sent out last week,” Aizawa says. “The announcement yesterday was just a reminder for you all.”

“Oh.”

Aizawa hands him the permission slip back. Katsuki shoves it back in his pocket. He doesn’t say anything else. Aizawa watches him silently for a moment, pen tapping against the wooden desk. 

“I wanted to continue our conversation from yesterday,” Aizawa begins slowly. “You seemed on edge. I wanted to give some time to decompress before we finished our talk.”

Decompress? What the fuck?

“So what's this about then?” Katsuki grumbles. 

“I want to recommend therapy.” 

Therapy. The word ricocheted around his skull. Katsuki doesn’t move. He can’t, because-therapy? Was he really that broken? 

Yesterday was a bit of a blur, but Katsuki can recognize the hallmarks of an extra shitty day. He can recall their conversation, and he remembers flinching because Aizawa raised his hand, and then leaving. The exact details of their conversation are washed out over the drone of anxiety. 

Fucking stupid, honestly. Katsuki should have known better. Aizawa would never hurt him. The old man had some weird philosophy on it, like hitting bad kids wouldn’t do anything. It's the type of thinking that got Katsuki into this situation in the first place. Some kids just needed discipline. Like a harsh hand or whatever. 

Aizawa was soft in that sense.

Katsuki was just having a bad day. He mistook the action for something else, and now Aizawa was drawing all the wrong conclusions. Katsuki could still be a hero. He wasn’t, like, damaged. Just stressed. Extra stressed. 

Katsuki was fine. 

His prolonged silence must’ve somehow urged the man to continue, because Aizawa began to talk again.

“Therapy isn’t a bad thing,” Aizawa said. Katsuki must’ve had some expression on his face to give away his thoughts. “A lot of heroes go to therapy, myself included.”

“What?” Katsuki blurted out. 

“This job is difficult. Pro heroes are present for many stressful situations in the line of duty,” Aizawa explained gently. “It comes with the job. Usually agencies keep an eye out for their hero’s mental health, and take initiative when needed. Since you’re a student, that job falls to me.”

It made sense, Katsuki supposed. Kind of a roundabout way of saying, 'I see shit that fucks me up'.

However, Aizawa had been a pro hero for a long time. Of course he saw fucked up shit and needed to talk about those things. All Katsuki did was get himself kidnapped. It’s not like anything especially bad had happened to him. Katsuki would remember it. He was sure of it.

(He would remember what happened if it was especially bad. He forgot, so it must've been nothing. He was fine.)

Katsuki can’t find anything to say to Aizawa. He just stares at the man stupidly until he continues on.

“We have a faculty member with a degree in Psychology. He worked as a mental health liaison for other agencies before joining the staff here at UA.”

“Who?” Katsuki forces himself to say. If it's Midnight, Katsuki is just going to refuse. Or Cementoss. He hates taking their classes as it is. No way in hell is he going to talk to them about shit.

“Hound Dog,” Aizawa replies. “I don’t think you’ve met him directly yet, he’s in charge of security here.”

Katsuki blinks. “Hound Dog?” He echoes.

Aizawa nods. “He’s a bit more familiar with your case because of his position here at UA, so it may be easier to talk to him about some things. Of course, if you’d rather have someone else, I can always find another counselor off campus who is unaffiliated with us if that would be more comfortable for you.”

Katsuki shakes his head. No way. 

“I don’t even need this,” Katsuki finally cuts in. All of this is moving too quickly for him to follow. Even if he wanted to talk about shit, which nothing happened anyway so he doesn’t, Katsuki could never find it within himself to actually open his mouth about it. Was he just supposed to complain about how shitty it was that he got kidnapped? That was his fault. All Might retiring, all those people getting hurt or dying in the fallout, that was on him. What would complaining about it do? 

Aizawa’s brow furrows. “Bakugou, frankly, I’m concerned. What you went through-”

“Nothing happened,” Katsuki insists vehemently. “Nothing. I don’t need to talk about anything. I’m fine.”

Aizawa doesn’t reply immediately and Katsuki realizes somehow he’s probably said the wrong thing. 

Katsuki shifts in his chair, finally breaking eye contact with his teacher. God, how many times did he have to say he was fine before they left him alone?

Katsuki stares at the scuff marks on his shoes. He should clean them. Maybe he’d look more presentable. Then people would stop giving him shit about things. 

“Kid, you haven’t been ‘fine’ since you came back. I haven’t been the only one to notice things. Several of your classmates have come up to talk to me. They’re concerned. So am I. You went through a traumatic experience-”

Katsuki flinches.

Trauma was a loaded word. Everyone seemed to throw the word into conversations around him a lot lately. It wasn’t like Katsuki didn’t understand what it was. It’s just- it didn’t apply to him. Katsuki wasn’t traumatized. No matter what he said, no one believed him. They always had this odd glint in their eyes, this expression of fucking pity that filled him with fucking rage-

“-and it’s okay to accept help for that. I wanted to talk to you before I contacted your parents-”

Katsuki laughs bitterly. “The hag won’t do shit,” he says before he can stop himself.

Several emotions flicker across Aizawa’s face. “Does she-” Aizawa stops himself. His dark eyes narrow, flickering over Katsuki’s body like it’ll give him the answers he wants.

Fuck. God, he’s a fucking idiot. Katsuki takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I don’t need therapy. I’m fine,” he redirects quickly. 

Aizawa frowns and closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay hold on a minute there, kid.”

Katsuki grits his teeth and curls his hands into fists, as if he could ever punch away this conversation. He wishes he could, sometimes. It would be easier. “Nothing crazy happened, alright? I’m tired of everyone trying to say shit about it. I fucked up, I got kidnapped, and now its over. It’s done,” Katsuki stressed. 

Aizawa looked so sad all of a sudden, shoulders slumping and dark eyes softening. “Bakugou, do you think it was your fault that you got kidnapped?”

What a stupid question. Katsuki scoffs. “Isn’t it obvious? If I hadn’t been so fucking weak, none of that would have happened.”

Aizawa blinks. 

Suddenly, the silence between them stretches on. Aizawa stares openly, not moving a muscle. The air between them grows tense as Aizawa refuses to say anything.

Katsuki isn’t sure what he said that’s leaving Aizawa looking so deeply unsettled, because everything he said was stuff he’d been told before. It’s not like he was drawing the wrong conclusions. His mom told him, and other people said it all the time, so why was Aizawa looking at Katsuki like he just murdered a cat in front of him?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Katsuki demands. His fingers begin to tap against his thigh. “Don’t act like its a fucking surprise. Everyone says it.”

“Everyone?” Aizawa repeats. “Who’s everyone?”

“Why does it matter? It’s in the past now, isn’t it? Most of the villains are in fucking prison anyway,” Katsuki says. His fingers tremble slightly, and he curls them back into fists. 

Aizawa shakes his head. “Bakugou, what happened to you wasn’t your fault. If anything, UA should have had higher security for a school sanctioned event. Especially after what happened at the beginning of the year.”

“What?”

“It’s not your fault you were kidnapped, kid.”

His eyes are burning. “Yes it is,” Katsuki insists. “I was-”

“You’re not weak, Bakugou,” Aizawa says, his voice quiet and soft like he’s talking to a kid. 

Katsuki is not a kid. He’s not fragile. He’s not some fucking vase that’s shattered on the floor. 

“Fuck you,” Katsuki spits. Almost immediately, he wants to snatch the words back. Aizawa would punish him for sure now. Or call home. Or both. 

But Aizawa doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t look mad. If anything, he just looks depressed. Like someone poked a balloon and all the air is leaking out. There’s some careful look in his eyes, something so tender and almost caring that sets Katsuki on edge.

Katsuki feels like he’s standing on the ceiling. None of this is right. There were so many people telling him that everything that happened at Kamino Ward was his fault. That he was weak. A hero student should be better, they’d write in articles or forums online. 

They were right, they had to be. Because if it somehow wasn’t his fault, if it truly was some fucked up accident, then why did it haunt him so much? 

Katsuki was guilty, he knew this like he knew his own name. There was no other explanation. 

“Bakugou, you are one of my strongest students. What happened to you was never your fault. None of it. You’re not weak. You never were.”

Katsuki doesn’t even know how to convince Aizawa of how wrong he is. 

“I don’t have authority to begin sessions with Hound Dog, so I’ll contact your parents to get permission.”

“My mom.” The word feels wrong, coming from his mouth. “It’s just my mom.”

Aizawa pauses. “Okay. I’ll contact your mom.”

“She won’t approve of it.” Katsuki warns flatly. 

“Why not?” Aizawa cocks an eyebrow. 

“She doesn’t like therapy bullshit.” Katsuki reaches down to grab his bag after glancing at the clock. It’s almost time for class. “Good luck.”

“Bakugou.” 

Katsuki pauses. He’s already up, back to Aizawa as he faces the path to his own desk. In a minute or so, Iida will come through the door. He was oddly prompt like that. Almost down to the minute.

“When we completed home visits before we moved students into the dorms, your mother said something about you.”

Katsuki twitches, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t turn around to make eye contact. The air feels charged with energy, the words Aizawa are saying feel carefully chosen. 

“I didn’t think anything of it at the time, and I probably should have, but your mother called you weak for getting kidnapped.”

Katsuki doesn’t dare to breathe. His palms heat momentarily before he smothers his quirk down. “So?”

Aizawa is quiet for a moment. 

“She’s wrong.” When his teacher finally speaks, his voice is low and urgent. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything at the time. I should have. You’re not weak, Bakugou.”

Katsuki blinks, the useless apology hanging around in the space between them. He can’t recall a time any adult in his life has ever apologized to him. He never expected Aizawa, of all people, to ever utter those words to him. 

And yet, it didn’t matter. The past couldn’t be changed. This wasn’t the first time Aizawa had failed him either. 

Cold metal bites into the soft skin on his nose and cheek bones. He swallows another scream, meeting the mismatched eyes of Todoroki. The air in his lungs is stale. The restraints twist his shoulders painfully. It takes everything in him not to ignite an explosion strong enough to rip his arms from their sockets. Anything, anything at all to escape these confines. 

Katsuki begins walking to his desk. There is nothing left for him to say. 

Iida swings open the door to their homeroom and marches inside. Katsuki ignores the greeting his classmate calls out to both of them. He sits down at his desk to stare at the wooden surface. 

He doesn't say a word, even as his classmates slowly filter in from the noisy halls. Katsuki doesn’t bother to remove his school items from his bag when homeroom finally begins. 

For the rest of the day, Aizawa’s final words echo around his skull. 

You’re not weak, Bakugou.

Later on that night, Kirishima and Kaminari show up at Katsuki’s door to drag him to the common room for some ‘bonding time’ or some other shit. Katsuki tried to refuse, and very vocally, but they were incredibly resistant to his slew of curses and excuses. He ends up getting sandwiched between the two of them as they herd him down the stairs and into the common room, towards the couch nearest to the TV. 

Mina and Sero are already present, setting up a game for them to play. Katsuki settles on the corner of the couch, sinking into the cushions as he watches his friends bicker and argue over which game to play first. 

Kaminari grins manically, snatching the controller from Sero’s hands. Sero cries out, reaching out to try and take it back, but Kaminari steps out of reach and hops over the back of the couch. Kirishima attempts to mediate their argument, but the two are hell bent on ignoring him. Mina is using the other controller to scroll through the selection of games, and she shoots Katsuki a wide smile.

Mina jumps over the back of the couch, settling next to Katsuki and providing an extra barrier between their two squabbling friends.

“Hey,” Mina greets him.

“Hey.”

“Any preference?” She gestures to the screen.

Katsuki shrugs. It truly does not matter what game they pick. Mina’s smile dims.

“You know, you haven’t hung out with us in a while.” Mina’s eyes remain fixated on the screen, finally selecting some type of racing game and selecting the options. 

“I’ve been busy,” Katsuki grumbles. He hasn’t played this game before. Or most games. The hag never subscribed to the idea of video games. Plus, Katsuki never really had friends who’d invite him over to try them out, either. 

“Busy, huh?” Mina rests the controller on her lap, glancing at the others. “Hey! The game’s starting in ten seconds, so whoever has the controller, you’d better be ready.”

Kaminari yelps as Sero finally wrestles the controller from his grip and darts off the couch.

“Eat my dust, bitch!” 

The timer reaches zero, and Kaminari falls back into the couch, moaning dramatically.

“What the hell man?” Kaminari reaches out to zap Sero lightly.

“Ow! Goddamnit, don’t distract me,” Sero complains, stepping further out of reach. 

“It’s your fault for stealing the controller from me.”

“I didn’t steal it. You stole it from me first.”

“So? You literally just snatched it from my hands.”

“I tactically acquired the controller.”

Kaminari snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Hey guys,” Kirishima held up his hands placatingly. “C’mon. Kaminari, you can race in the next round.”

“Obviously.” Kaminari rolled his eyes, gaze landing on Katsuki. “Have you ever played this one, Bakugou?” 

“No.” Katsuki watches Mina’s character shoot something at Kaminari’s character, causing him to crash into a wall. 

“Mina!”

Mina grins. “Loser!”

“You never played Mario Kart?” Kirishima asks incredulously. “Where have you been, man?”

Doing other things than fucking Mario Kart, clearly. Katsuki wrinkles his nose.

“Whatever.”

“Aw Blasty, you’re definitely taking my controller next round!” Mina hit buttons furiously, and Sero cried out as his character was thrown off the course once again.

“I’ll pass,” Katsuki said. 

Immediately, four pairs of eyes fixed on him. An awkward, tense silence fell over their group. It seemed Katsuki had said the wrong thing. 

“You’ve been different lately,” Sero says carefully, looking back at the game. "Something's going on with you."

Katsuki blinks. What the fuck?

Kaminari elbows him viciously in the side. “What the hell, Sero?”

“What? Are we just gonna keep dancing around it?” Sero smashes buttons and his character crashes into a wall again. “Goddamnit.”

Kirishima facepalms. “Are you guys serious right now?”

It’s not the first time people had confronted Katsuki about his well being lately. Usually it was just a passing comment or question about his well-being. But it was the first time Kirishima and the rest had all joined forces to talk to him about it. 

The four of them broke out into an argument about how to go about this intervention. Or well being check-up. Whatever the fuck they were calling it. 

Katsuki felt distinctly uncomfortable as they argued around him. Everyone around him seemed to notice how off he was. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, nothing he did was ever enough. Katsuki couldn't seemed to pull himself together lately.

“I’m fine.” 

The lie was so obvious the entire idiot squad stopped their conversation and all turned to look at him. All of their expressions are completely serious, not a hint of the humor before the conversation had taken an abrupt turn. 

“Bro, seriously-” Kaminari starts.

Kirishima talks over him. “We didn’t want to bombard you.” He has the decency to look a tad regretful. 

“The fuck?” Katsuki scowls. “Are you all just talking about me when I’m not around?”

“It's not like that!” Sero exclaims, waving his arms furiously. 

“Definitely not!” Mina stands up, the controller resting uselessly in her hand. Their game is abandoned. The music swells in the background, signaling the final lap. “Blasty, we’re just worried about you. You haven’t been yourself lately and we want to help.”

“Yeah!” Kaminari tries to smile, but his face looks pained. “Please, Bakugou, just talk to us.”

Kirishima tries to place his hand on Katsuki’s arm, but he snatches it away. 

He knew he hadn't been himself lately. Katsuki knew others had taken notice. But he could handle it. Katsuki just needed to get his shit together. He would. He’d be fine.

They all take his silence in stride, and Kirishima decides this is a good time to press onward. 

“Bakugou, we’re your friends. We only want to help.”

Friends? 

Katsuki says nothing. 

Mina bites her lip. “Please say something, Blasty.”

Katsuki looks down at his hands. He can feel the faint throbbing of the cut on his thigh if he focuses on it. And he is so, so tired. 

“I don't want to talk about it.” Katsuki raises his eyes from his hands. “I’m fine.”

“You’re so clearly lying,” Sero remarks snarkily, even as he exchanges a worried glance with Kirishima. “Bakugou, you look like death warmed over.”

“So I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“And the night before that?” Kirishima presses, leaning forward as his eyes narrow. The hint at the previous hallway encounter was obvious. 

Katsuki glares at him. “Asshole.”

“When was the last time you slept?” Mina asks, sounding suspiciously soft. 

Katsuki switches his glare to her, before just resigning to glaring at the entire group. They’re all watching him, regarding him with some sort of cautious curiosity that has his hackles raising. He doesn’t need their kind words or fake affection or any of it. 

“Fuck you all, I slept last night.” Katsuki dodges around the fact that the sleep he did get only lasted three hours. That nap came to bite him in the ass. Although he had to be grateful that he didn’t have a single dream or thought while he slept through classes. He didn’t get to be so lucky later that night.

Kaminari frowns, squinting his eyes as he looks Katsuki over. “Did you though?”

“Ask me one more time,” Katsuki says carefully, his hands already in fists. “I swear to fucking god.”

“Okay, so you slept last night. But you’re definitely not sleeping well.” Kirishima gives him a pointed look. Katsuki shouldn't have said anything in the first place. 

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Look, we’re not trying to interrogate you.” Sero cuts across. “We just want to help.”

“This is supposed to be helping?” Katsuki scoffs. “This is a waste of my fucking time.”

Mina reaches across the couch and Katsuki leans away from her reach. He tries to ignore the hurt that flashes across her face. “Blasty. Please, we’ve probably gone about this the wrong way, but we care for you. We’re your friends. You can tell us anything. Something is going on. And we don’t want you to be in pain, you know?”

There was the word again. Friends.

They cared about him?

Katsuki doesn’t move, studying every single miniscule detail on every one of those idiot’s faces. None of them betrayed anything sinister. There was no anger, no accusation, no hint of anything that could be taken as aggression. 

Katsuki didn’t understand it. 

How could they care for him? No one liked him. No one besides Izuku, of course, which Katsuki still couldn’t make any sense of. 

People just didn’t like Katsuki. They either found him annoying or they followed him because of his power. Never did anyone actually like what kind of person he was. His personality could be directly correlated to hot garbage. 

The fucking hag told him so. His middle school followers said it behind his back. Even his teachers had whispered about it. 

“Why?”

They have the audacity to look confused.

“What?” 

“Why?” Katsuki insists. “Why do you care?”

“Are you serious?” Kaminari and Sero share a look. 

“Nevermind.” Katsuki stands up. The world spins. Vaguely, he can’t recall eating anything today. The gathered idiots in front of him have become a smear of color. Dark blobs circle around. 

“Wait! Please don’t leave!” A blur of pink moves across his vision.

Katsuki blinks against the dark spots swimming around him. He sits down before he does something embarrassing like pass out in front of these fuckers. He turns his head away in the general direction of the staircase. There’s no one in the path. A clear shot, if only he could scrounge up enough focus to make it there.

It’s quiet before Kirishima takes the reins, spearheading their intervention shit once again. 

“Bakugou, we’re your friends, of course we care about you,” Kirishima says like its the simplest thing in the entire fucking universe.

Katsuki’s face burns.   

But still, he was, well-Katsuki was just himself. “Why?” He asked insistently. 

Kirishima’s brows furrow. “I don’t understand what you mean, Bakugou. Why what?”

“Why do you care about me?” Katsuki hates how small his voice is, and his face flames hot to the tips of his ears, but he can’t stop himself from asking. “I-I’m just me, you know? So why?”

None of them seem to know what to say. Katsuki can't look at them any longer.

“What-I-” Kaminari stutters like he’s short circuited. His eyes are wide as he glances around to the rest of the squad, not seeming to find anything coherent to say.

Mina has covered her mouth with her hands, tears gathering in her eyes. There’s a horrified look on her face. Sero is staring blankly at him, but Kirishima looks so sad. 

Katsuki feels awful. They’ll all hate him. He ruined it, all because he opened his goddamn mouth.

“Do you think-” Kirishima pauses, swallowing hard. “You don’t understand why we care about you. Because you’re you? ” Kirishima’s voice trails off at the end.

Katsuki grits his teeth, glancing away again. “Yes,” he bites out. “No one has before. I don’t see why anyone would now.”

He feels raw as he forces the words out. It was cowardly to admit such things and avoid eye contact. Somehow they just weren’t getting it. For some reason, he needed them to fucking get it.

“We love you for who you are, Blasty. Nothing will ever change that.” Mina whispers hoarsely. “I’m sorry you don’t see it that way, but it's the truth.”

Sero and Kaminari nod vehemently as well. Katsuki watches them from the corners of his eyes.

“We love you, man,” Kirishima says quietly. His red eyes are shining. “We’re your friends because we like who you are.”

“Okay.” Katsuki doesn’t understand. How can they not see what a terrible person he is?

There’s something in their faces-can he call them friends?- that draws up the memory of vomiting blood and pills. That time hadn’t been his fault but he’s not entirely sure, because he can’t remember taking any pills, just violently expelling them from his body as Izuku held him with shaking arms and terrified eyes. 

Suicide wouldn’t be so bad. Like going to sleep and never waking up. Eternal silence. 

Katsuki was just so goddamn tired. He needed a rest. He wanted to be done with all of this shit. 

Katsuki thinks of bottles of pills, sharp blades and rooftops overlooking the city. He wouldn’t mind it. The nothingness. 

How could they ever care about a villainous creature like him? He was someone who dreamed of death and blood. He was the sharp tongue and brutal words that people thought of on their darkest days. Katsuki was the amalgamation of everything wrong with this world. Every awful thing a person could be. Katsuki was ruined. 

If the idiot squad was dead set on lying to him, then he would leave. Katsuki wasn’t gonna sit around with people who were just trying to pull one over on him. 

“I’m not a good person,” Katsuki stares at his hands, picturing sticky blood and crimson petals. “Everyone knows that. People don’t like me, especially not my personality.”

“We’re your friends,” Mina repeats blindly. Insistently. “Why would we lie about liking you?”

Katsuki shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The words are bitter in his mouth. 

“But-”

 Mina doesn’t finish her sentence. When Katsuki looks at her, Kirishima has his hand on hers. It’s sweet. 

Katsuki looks around the common room. It’s mostly empty now. There are a couple stragglers finishing up assignments or playing games before curfew. The other students are too far away to eavesdrop on their conversation. He spots Momo stirring a cup of tea as she exits the kitchen. 

She offers him a smile when she catches his eye. He doesn’t return it. 

Katsuki drags his gaze back to the gathering around him. They don’t seem to know what to say.

“Dude, no-” Kaminari chokes out. “We would never do that to you.”

Katsuki sets his shoulders back. So this is the route they’re going to take. Blind denial. That’s fine. Katsuki doesn’t need people. 

“Bakugou, we honestly like the person you are,” Sero says, like the words are bombs, set to explode. Katsuki feels like he’s in a minefield, prepped to be torn apart at any moment. He waits for the rest, for the final door to slam shut in his face. There’s a ‘but’ going to come any second now. “I think you’re an amazing person. You’re strong, and yeah maybe a little hot-headed, but I don’t see it as a bad thing. I like your personality-”

The rest of them give similar agreements. Katsuki stares at them all. Their faces are still so open, so honest, so pure.

“I’ll ruin you,” Katsuki says without a thought.

“What are you talking about?” Kaminari asks.

Katsuki doesn’t have to think twice. He tells them what everyone else has told him his entire life. “I’m a bad person. There’s nothing I can do to be good, it’s just the way I am. I’m going to ruin all of you.”

“Oh god, Blasty, no-”

“Bakugou, how can you say something like that?”

“It’s just what everyone has always told me.” Katsuki feels a bit dead right now. The words clang around his empty shell. They tumble from his mouth, falling between teeth. “I’m destined to be a villain.”

“You’re not a bad person, Bakguou.” 

He’s no longer looking at any of them. Katsuki shrugs. “Sure.”

“You don’t believe us.” Kirishima murmurs. “How can you not believe us?”

Katsuki looks him dead in the eye. He sees all of them: Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero and Mina. The four of his classmates who actually took time out of their days to spend around him. The four who added his number to their group chat, invited him to eat with them during lunches and organized hang outs they never excluded him from. 

Katsuki didn’t understand. Every moment he spent with them, he waited for the other shoe to drop. He always tensed when one of them whispered something to another. Katsuki waited for the cruel twist of lips, the flint and steel glare and frozen words to shun him. 

Katsuki waited. And waited. And waited.  

Some part of him wants nothing more than to take their words, holding them close to his heart, and never let go. But how can he? 

Katsuki used to have friends. People he called friends. Then he heard them, whispering and muttering amongst themselves. It wasn’t just one time. Whenever they thought he was out of earshot, they would talk about him. 

Katsuki is fucking weird. 

God, with a quirk like that, I don’t want to be on his bad side.

Katsuki is still saying he's going to be a hero. With his personality? He’ll probably end up a villain.

At the time, Katsuki didn’t have anyone else. He couldn’t be alone. So he ignored it. Even if they did talk behind his back, at least he wasn’t alone. 

God, if he was alone, Katsuki couldn’t do it. He couldn't do it. 

“No. I don’t believe you.”

Mina smiles wobbly. "It's okay, Blasty. You'll believe us one day. We're not going to stop caring about you."

"Or being your friend," Sero cuts in.

Kaminari nods. "Yeah, dude. We'll be here for you."

"It was so manly of you to share that with us, Bakugou." Kirishima grins, sharp teeth glinting. The smile doesn't reach his eyes. "We're here for you. No matter what."

As he glances between each of them, Katsuki realizes that some part of him actually believes the words they're saying.

Maybe they're right. Maybe they do care. Katsuki resolves to ask Izuku later on. Izuku aways understood this sort of thing better than he did. 

Katsuki smiles wanly at them. He can't recall the last time he did that. 

The moon was waning now, its gray body shrinking with every passing day. The pale light still illuminated much of the night, strong enough to cast shadows on the ground. Stars burned bright from far away in the vastness of space. Katsuki traced the constellations, finding the belt of Orion easily. 

Somewhere in the distance, crickets sang. 

Katsuki breathed.

The steel blade sang through flesh. Skin neatly split, revealing white sinew. Blood gathered, swelling and filling up the wound.

More and more and more. 

Katsuki let the blade sing through his flesh once more.

The tension broke. Blood spilled, running down the side of his thigh. 

Katsuki sighed.

The cut continued to bleed. He placed the blade down, grabbing the gauze and pressing it firmly to the wound. The gauze was replaced and then taped down. The blade was cleaned and tucked away in a small box that was hidden in his dresser.

The cut stung. Katsuki laid down on his bed, pulling the blankets over his trembling body. Was it the high or the come down? He wasn’t sure anymore.

Sometimes, it was enough just to feel something. Even if it wasn’t good.

Katsuki didn’t want to close his eyes. Instead, he gets up and rummages around his closet. Under a gym bag, is the bag he took home last time. Katsuki pulls out the vodka triumphantly.

Katsuki settles on the ground, the doors to his balcony wide open. He screws off the lid, wrinkling his nose and tipping his head back. Katsuki manages a couple mouthfuls before he has to set the bottle down, coughing into his elbow. 

The taste is bitter and strong. Katsuki hates it. He has to fight the urge to gag, breathing through his nose forcefully as the alcohol threatens to make a reappearance. It burned on its way down. His stomach warms. 

Katsuki drinks more as soon as his stomach quiets again. He does gag this time, but he keeps it down. 

The hag drinks this brand of vodka like its water. How long did you have to drink this before the taste lost any meaning to you? Katsuki wasn’t an alcoholic, but he’s sure it was good fucking bit of time.

Katsuki loved the nighttime. Sure, he went to bed early when he could, but that was because he started his days early for training. He still preferred the quiet of the night. Especially the times of night where the entire world was asleep. It was so quiet, Katsuki could imagine he was the only person to exist. 

The alcohol finally started to buzz through his veins. Katsuki leaned further against the wall and closed his eyes. 

This would be the best time to kill himself. There was no one around to stop him. There was plenty of time until morning. No one would find him until it was too late.

If only he wasn’t so tired.

Izuku would understand, Katsuki thinks absentmindedly. 

He squints his eyes open. 

There’s still vodka left in the bottle, enough that he swallows the rest in one sitting. His stomach has been begging for food all day. Katsuki can’t really remember if he did eat something. Which explains why the alcohol is affecting him so strongly. 

Katsuki prefers it, honestly. He doesn’t have to drink as much for the calming waves of fucking poison to run through his body. If only it was enough to kill him. 

Katsuki is grabbing his phone, fingers fumbling over the keyboard. The text chimes as its sent off into the universe. Katsuki shuts the screen off. 

He’s not even sure how long he’s been sitting on the ground like this. Time is doing that weird thing again; fluctuating around him. Awareness ebbs and flows. Katsuki is nothing more than an abstract thought, a tiny blip in the vast expanse of everything, a continuation of matter. He feels impossibly big and infinitely small. 

Suicide would be a blessing. His brain hurts. Sometimes, Katsuki thinks that he thinks too much. 

There’s a knock at his door that pulls him back into the present. Katsuki hauls himself on to unsteady feet. The floor shifts beneath him, and he reaches out for balance on the frame of his bed. 

Alcohol is a blood thinner, his brain unhelpfully supplies. You will bleed easier.

Katsuki doesn’t bother checking the peephole. He opens the door, allowing the other inside before shutting it and twisting the lock. Katsuki stumbles over to the wall by the open balcony doors, sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. His eyes have already closed.

“You can sit anywhere,” he mumbles. 

Izuku doesn’t say anything. Katsuki hears him shuffle forward, sitting down on the wall opposite of where Katsuki is situated. 

Katsuki talks first. The alcohol has loosened his tongue. 

“Do you think Kirishima and them really give a shit about me?”

Izuku doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes. I do.”

Izuku wouldn’t lie to him. Katsuki hates that he trusts the other boy’s words implicitly. 

“You’re drinking tonight,” Izuku notes. “Does it have to do with your friends?”

There’s the word again. Friends. Katsuki doesn’t have friends. 

But he does now, doesn’t he? The others made it clear tonight. They saw themselves as friends. With him. Bakugou Katsuki. 

“I didn't know we were friends,” Katsuki admits to him. “How fucked up is that? I still don’t. I keep thinking that they’re going to turn on me.”

“They won’t do that to you, Kat. They’re great friends to have.”

“And if they do?”

“I’ll beat their asses.”

Katsuki laughs. “That’s my line.”

“Where do you think I got it from?”

Katsuki smiles. When he opens his eyes, Izuku is looking towards the night sky. The moon has shone its silvery light on Izuku’s face. Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat. Izuku’s hair is curling softly around his face. In the tranquility of the night, Izuku looks peaceful. Ethereal, even. 

Katsuki remembers these pictures of the Greek gods from their history textbooks in middle school. Izuku would fit right into the paintings portrayed on those pages. Katsuki could almost picture him in a white chiton, green eyes dancing with mirth. 

“Are you okay?” 

Izuku’s gentle voice guides him back into the present. Katsuki doesn’t even have the decency to blush. 

Katsuki has ruined things between them. Anything they might have had is long gone, burnt to ashes. No hope of regrowth. 

“Yeah.” His voice cracks. 

“You look tired.” Izuku shifts, his green eyes flickering over to the bottle. “That’s not going to help.”

“Fuck off.” Katsuki slumps further against the wall. Anxiety strikes through his body. He avoids Izuku, looking instead to the moon. It has set further in the sky since he’d last looked for it. The stars have shifted too. Orion now rests closer to the horizon. 

Katsuki thinks of the blade inside the box. His thigh still hurts. 

“Kat?” 

Katsuki swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m tired.”

“I know.” Izuku’s voice is small. Katsuki listens to the soft exhale that slips past the other’s lips. 

“Do you think there's heaven and hell out there? Like after we fucking die and shit?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Izuku hesitates. “Not really. I think there’s an afterlife but not like that.”

Maybe the afterlife exists beyond the stars. Far out of reach. Somewhere only souls can pass through. Katsuki wishes he could see it. 

“Why?” Izuku asks.

“I’m curious.” Katsuki picks at a fingernail. He knows Izuku is watching him closely now. “I think it’d be nice. I’d probably go to hell.”

“You wouldn’t.” Izuku says sharply, in a tone where he leaves no room for debate.

Katsuki never listens, though. 

“I would,” he insists. “Shitty people go to hell, everyone knows that.”

“You’re not shitty-”

“I am.” Katsuki wants to force the words down Izuku’s throat. He doesn’t do that. Katsuki just sighs. “I don’t believe in hell.”

“What do you believe in?” Izuku humors him.

“Nothing.” Katsuki flicks his eyes to Izuku. The other is watching him, brows creased with worry. “I don’t believe in anything.”

Izuku’s mouth turns downward. “Why are we talking about death?”

Katsuki wants to laugh. He doesn’t. Katsuki feels eighty years old then. Izuku grows more worried with every passing second, but Katsuki wants him to know. Katsuki wants to share a glimpse of the growing weight pressing on his shoulders. 

Izuku already knows. Katsuki can see it shifting around in the way Izuku holds himself. But he won’t say a thing. Izuku is scared. 

Katsuki decides that in this moment, in this quiet bubble of the night, he will speak it. 

The words still lodge themselves in his throat, stuck just beyond his reach. Katsuki can feel them, he can picture them forming, but he can’t say them.

I don’t think I want to do this anymore.

Instead, when Katsuki opens his mouth, he says, “Will you stay here with me?”

Izuku blanches. “I-what?”

Heat burns across Katsuki’s face. Stupid. He was so fucking stupid. “Nevermind.”

“No, no-” Izuku frantically holds his hands up in front of them, eyes wide as he rushes to speak. “I didn’t mean it like that! You just caught me off guard.”

Katsuki bites his lip. “Whatever. Do what the fuck you want.”

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Hope curls against his heart. Katsuki feels like an idiot for thinking anything else. 

“Okay.”

The balcony doors are closed and the empty bottle tucked away underneath bags in the closet. 

Katsuki stares at the ceiling, occupying the side of the bed closest to the wall. Izuku lays down beside him. 

“We haven’t done this in a little while,” Izuku murmurs. 

His eyelashes are so pretty, Katsuki notes as he stares into the other boy’s eyes. He hums in agreement as an afterthought, thoroughly distracted by the sight before him. Izuku smiles, and something warms inside Katsuki’s chest.

Izuku’s eyes slip shut, and Katsuki listens as his breathing begins to slowly even out.

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki whispers into the stillness. Izuku doesn’t stir. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Izuku would be the only one hurt by his death. Katsuki knew this. Maybe the Bakusquad would be too. Katsuki can’t really speak for those idiots. But there was no one else. No one in the entire world would miss him outside of that small group.

For how many people that knew his name and recognized his face, there were very few who actually cared for Katsuki. 

In the end, it wouldn’t be so terrible. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His classmates chattered excitedly, dragging each other around and they prepped the common room for their parents' arrival. Some of his classmates' parents had already begun to enter, looking around the common room curiously. 

Katsuki huffed, retreating back into the kitchen. The timer began to chime just as he walked in. Sato appeared quickly and removed the two trays from the oven. The heavenly, sweet aroma of chocolate chip cookies began to fill the air. 

“I was going to get that,” Katsuki grumbled as he reached across the counter to turn the timer off.

Sato shrugged as he set the trays down on the counter. “It’s fine, Bakugou. I got it.”

Katsuki hummed and shooed the other boy away. He grabbed a spatula from the utensil drawer and began transferring the hot cookies to the cooling rack. 

“Aren’t your parents here yet?” Katsuki cocked an eyebrow at him.

Sato moved over to peer out of the kitchen. His face split into a wide smile as he waved enthusiastically to someone across the room.

“Looks like they just arrived,” Sato said happily. He quickly took off his apron and hung it on the designated hook. “Are you all good here, Bakugou?”

Katsuki waves him off. “I’m fine. Get out of here.”

Sato hesitates at the doorway. “Are your parents coming by soon? I can stop-”

“No.” Katsuki moves another cookie from the tray. The chocolate chips were gooey, the baked dough still soft from the oven. “My mom has to work today.”

“Okay then. If you need a break-”

Katsuki set the spatula down a little harder than he meant too, fixing a glare at the other boy. “If you’re not out of this fucking kitchen in the next five seconds,” he began threateningly.

Sato just chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll blow me up.” 

Katsuki waited until Sato had slipped around the corner before resuming the task. 

Sato and Katsuki worked together a bit in the kitchen. While Sato was more of a baker and Katsuki more of a cook, they corroborated many recipes together. At first it was frustrating to split the kitchen duties with someone else. Sato was unfamiliar. Katsuki could probably count the times they had engaged in conversation together on one hand.

After 1-A moved into the dorms, Katsuki took over a bit of the cooking on nights the entire class ate together. His classmates were hopeless in the kitchen. Kaminari himself had started three kitchen fires before Katsuki banned him from using the stove. 

Sato was a refreshing change. He was comfortable in the kitchen and useful when Katsuki needed an extra hand preparing dinner. Sato knew his shit. He was one of the only classmates Katsuki approved of to assist him. 

Naturally they had cooked a bit together and often fell into an easy rhythm around each other. Katsuki didn’t mind the light conversation or the occasional tidbits of knowledge where his own baking expertise lacked. 

Katsuki could even say he enjoyed Sato’s company.

Since Katsuki’s own wonderful mother was probably still not aware Parent’s Day even existed at UA, he volunteered to cook light refreshments for the rest of them. It was the least he could do since Katsuki was the reason they were in the dorms in the first place. 

Cooking also gave him an excuse to be out of sight for a good bit of the entire charade. Not to say he didn’t want to meet his friend’s parents, but he really wanted to avoid all the questions.

Mainly, where were his own parents? 

That was a can of worms Katsuki had been avidly avoiding since the class had started excitedly talking about the event. 

The Bakusquad seemed to pick up that something was amiss. Mina had tried to question him about it after Katsuki remained eerily silent when they were discussing it. He gave some lame excuse before changing the topic and they didn’t bring it up again.

Besides Kirishima, who tried to edge around the reason Katsuki wasn’t ‘hype’ for their parent’s arrival during a sparring session. Katsuki flatly denied anything was wrong. They danced around it for the rest of the heroics class before Kirishima finally gave up.

Izuku just fucking stared at him the entire time they were cleaning the dorms last night. Katsuki ignored him outright, even when Izuku ‘accidentally’ spilled water on his shirt. If anything, the rest of class seemed to realize something was going on. Katsuki abruptly volunteered to cook for them and they shut the fuck up.

Easy.

Katsuki was comforted by the fact that the hag was such a shit mother she was oblivious to the entire thing. It gave him this morning at least, free from any pestering classmates or teachers before Katsuki had to slink back home and face the music. 

Baking was relaxing, anyhow. He could understand why Sato enjoyed it so much, even when it wasn’t required for his quirk. 

There was just something about the process that differed from cooking. Katsuki couldn’t name it exactly. 

Katsuki began to hum a song under his breath as he moved the last cookie to the cooling tray. In a couple minutes, he would bring this batch on a plate and set it out where the rest of the refreshments were. Until then, he began to wipe down the counters and clean the dishes. 

The best part about cooking dinner for the class was that Katsuki got to skip out on the cleanup portion. Besides the mess from cooking, Katsuki could leave the pots and pans to the rest of them. He didn’t mind doing dishes. It was much easier since there was a lot of help to rush the process along, but it afforded him a couple minutes of peace to himself while they did the leftover work. 

Today, Katsuki let his classmates have the day off. Some of them protested, especially Iida, but Katsuki stood firm. His parents weren’t coming, and theirs were. It didn’t make sense to take away from their time with their families when Katsuki would be doing jack shit anyway.

Sato had still managed to weasel his way into helping out, at least until his parents arrived, but Katsuki had refused to allow him to stay any longer than that.

Katsuki was just drying off his hands, the last dish drying on the drying rack, when she walked in.

“Katsuki-kun, it's so good to see you.”

He froze as Midoriya Inko entered the kitchen, Izuku trailing behind her. 

Katsuki hadn’t seen Inko in a year or so. Not since the night he was puking his guts out on Izuku’s floors. He distantly remembered a blur of kind eyes and gentle hands. 

“Auntie Inko.” Katsuki fumbled for one of the too warm cookies, offering one to Inko and Izuku. “Here, they came out of the oven a couple minutes ago.”

Inko accepted the offered cookie graciously. She beamed, taking a moment to inhale the smell of melted chocolate and sweet dough. “Oh, it looks wonderful. It has been so long since I’ve had the pleasure of tasting your cooking.”

Katsuki shifted around, meeting Izuku’s green eyes. The green haired boy just shrugged, a playful smile on his mouth as he glanced between the two of them. Katsuki fought to keep the irritated scowl off his face.

Inko was oblivious. 

Katsuki could see the slightly deeper wrinkles around her eyes. She had lost a little weight, still plump and homely but with a tad less to her shape. Everything about her screamed safety and love. 

Katsuki found an aching sense of longing panging his chest at the sight of her. He forced himself to smile. 

Inko bites into the cookie, her eyes shining with warmth and happiness. God, she was like sunshine stuffed into human form. 

“This is absolutely delicious, Katsuki-kun.”

Katsuki hummed and she set the cookie down on the counter and opened her arms. “Oh, come give me a hug, it’s been so long.”

She wrapped her arms around him. He had grown since he’d last seen her so Katsuki found he had to bend a little now. Inko squeezed and Katsuki remembered all the hugs she would give him when he was a child, sniffling and prickly. Inko never minded. She was always able to see right through any act he put up around the Midoriya’s. 

Izuku eventually was able to as well. The pair of them were both Katsuki’s crutch and Achilles’ heel. 

Inko finally released him, holding Katsuki out in front of her as she looked him over. Her eyes were sharp. Katsuki knew she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the hollow look in his eyes. 

“How are you, dear?”

“I’m fine.”

Inko tuts, releasing him from her gentle grip. “You look a bit pale, Katsuki-kun.”

Katsuki sighs. He can’t even be annoyed with her. Inko was the mother that Mitsuki was never able to be. 

“I’m okay, Auntie.”

“How’re your classes?”

“They’re fine.”

Izuku covers his mouth, turning away from them. Katsuki clicks his tongue.

“Are you fucking laughing at me?” He complains without any bite behind it.

Izuku shakes his head. “No,” his voice comes out a bit strangled. “Not at all.”

“You asshole,” Katsuki whines. “I’m over here getting bombarded and you’re not helping.”

Inko rolls her eyes, an easy smile gracing her features. This makes her happy, Katsuki remembers. She likes their banter.

“Oh boys, come on now.” Her playful tone betrays her. Then Inko frowns, shifting to face Katsuki again. “I’m not bombarding you, Katsuki-kun. I’m just checking in.”

“I know. That’s what you always say.”

Izuku snorts. “Kacchan, are you coming out of the kitchen any time soon? Everyone’s in the common room. I think Kirishima’s moms got here a bit ago. He was looking for you.”

Katsuki’s eyes slide back to the cookies. He was planning on disappearing after he brought this last batch out. 

“I don’t know,” Katsuki says carefully. 

“Oh, Katsuki-kun, introduce me to your friends. I want to meet them,” Inko says happily, swatting his arm. “Don’t hide away back here.”

“Izuku-” Katsuki tries futilely.

“He already introduced me to all of his friends,” Inko interjects.

Izuku looks frustratingly smug. “Cmon, Kacchan,” he teases. “How are you going to say no to my mom?”

Inko has a deceptively innocent look on her face.

Katsuki scowls and grabs the plate from the counter. “Fine. I have to bring these cookies out first, though.”

The Midoriya’s grin like cheshire cats. Katsuki knows he’s been duped, but when Izuku laughs and takes a bite from one of the cookies he’s supposed to be transferring to the table, Katsuki realizes that he’s not mad. Not even a little. 

Despite a couple more attempts at sabotage, the cookies mostly make their way to the table. Izuku carries the plate until Katsuki snatches it from his hands, cocking his eyebrow and daring him to make a move. Inko is innocent of their shenanigans, shaking her head fondly and pestering Katsuki with more questions. 

Kirishima confronts them as soon as the plate is set on the table. 

“Bakugou!” 

Katsuki turns. 

There’s two women following Kirishima. One of them had dark spiky hair, showing resemblance to Kirishima. The other woman has soft, curly blonde hair and warm blue eyes. They both smile warmly at him, and Katsuki smiles nervously back. He’s never met his friend’s parents before. This situation is a bit out of his depth. After all, Katsuki isn’t known for his warm and friendly personality. 

“Hey, Kirishima.”

Kirishima beams, revealing sharp teeth. “These are my moms. Moms, this is Bakugou and Midoriya.”

The dark haired lady steps forward, shaking Bakugou’s hand enthusiastically. “Oh, it's so good to finally meet you, Bakugou! Eijirou has told us so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, ma’am.” Katsuki parrots, and the blonde haired woman dips her head in his direction. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Her blue eyes slide over to Inko. “Hello, are you his mom?”

“She’s an old family friend,” Katsuki explains. 

Inko chuckles, reaching up to ruffle Katsuki’s hair. He ducks his head to hide the blush burning his face. “I’ve known Katsuki since he was in diapers. Izuku is my son, but Katsuki is like a son to me.”

Izuku reaches out to shake their hands and exchange greetings. His smile is bright and sunny. Kirishima’s moms seem to warm under it. Katsuki is almost a little jealous of the easy way they slip into conversation. 

“Where are your parents?” Kirishima’s mom with dark hair asks, glancing around the room. 

Kirishima looks at him curiously. 

“My mom is busy today.”

Katsuki watches as their faces fill with pity. He will never understand how the absence of the hag is a bad thing. If they ever met his mother, they’d understand. Mitsuki was a whirlwind of chaos. 

“Oh, how unfortunate,” the blonde haired woman coos. 

Katsuki twitches. “It’s fine,” he assures them. 

Katsuki glances around the room, gratefully acknowledging the lack of Mitsuki. It would be a trainwreck if the hag showed up. 

Kirishima looks a bit put out. “That sucks, man.”

Katsuki shrugs. It’s really not a loss. The Midoriya’s understood that, at least. He’s ready to end this awkward conversation. Partially because he has no idea what more to say but more so he can slip away from Inko’s overbearing tendencies. The empty kitchen is calling his name. Or his room. 

Izuku opens his mouth, probably to say some nice bullshit, when a chill runs down Katsuki’s spine.

Over the years, he’s gotten a knack to predicting when a shit show is about to begin. Maybe it's because of all the awful situations Katsuki has been through. Maybe it's just a sixth sense he was born with. Either way, Katsuki knows something is going to happen.

Something walks through the door, with furious red eyes that immediately pin Katsuki under a venomous gaze. Something begins marching their way, narrowly avoiding Jiro and her family. Something looks fucking pissed, and Katsuki finds himself shrinking at the sight of her. 

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Inko jolts a little, still oblivious. “Katsu-”

“Katsuki,” the hag purrs, syrupy sweet. Her voice cuts across the room. She prowls closer, heels clicking on the floor. 

Beside him, Inko stiffens. 

“Speak of the fucking devil and she will appear,” Katsuki deadpans before she sidles up close to them. Kirishima’s blonde haired mom jumps. 

Kirishima whips his head around. “Bakugou, what-”

“I almost missed your little bullshit today, Katsuki.” Mitsuki halts her deadly approach. Her eyes narrow, something gleaming triumphantly as she found whatever Katsuki was lacking. To be fair, Katsuki knew he looked like shit. But knowing that himself and Mitsuki realizing that were two very different things. “What a fucking mess you are.”

“Mitsuki-” Inko tried to intervene. Any trace of the warmth from before was gone from Inko’s face. Where there was once sunshine, thunderous storm clouds rolled their way in. Katsuki would hate to be on the wrong side of Midoriya Inko’s wrath.

“It’s been a while, Auntie.” Izuku’s green eyes are sharp and cruel. He drags the honorific tauntingly and Mitsuki’s eyes flick over to him. Katsuki can see the anger flickering to life behind Mitsuki’s mask. 

Her nostrils flare. Sharp, perfectly manicured nails tick against her bicep. Katsuki waits for the ball to drop, feeling like the floor is creaking dangerously below him. He doesn’t utter a word. 

“Hm.” Mitsuki stares at Inko, ignoring Kirishima’s family entirely. “It has been a while, Inko.” The hag ignores Izuku, which is probably for the best. Katsuki has heard Mitsuki’s rants about the ‘quirkless fucking freak’ too many times. 

Confidence oozes from her. A carefully drawn eyebrow ticks upward. 

Katsuki forgets to breathe. 

“It has,” Inko says tightly. “Such a shame.”

Sarcasm drips from her voice. Katsuki has never heard her use this tone before. Beside her, Izuku is glaring at Mitsuki, held back by a hand Inko has wrapped around her son’s arm. Inko tries to catch his eye, but Katsuki avoids her. 

He’s too busy staring at the walking disaster in front of him.

Mitsuki scoffs. Crimson eyes focus back on him. His heart hammers against his ribs. Somewhere in the corner of his eye, he sees a dark clad figure ambling towards them. 

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Katsuki, I need to talk to you.”

Then the tornado referred to as Bakugou Mitsuki whirls around and disappears back from the door she came from. In the aftermath, stunned silence stretches between their little group. 

Aizawa is caught in a conversation with Mineta’s family. 

Even the purple fucker’s parent’s are short as childern. Katsuki notes his father has the same odd hair and shifty eyes as his son. Disgusting. 

Katsuki rolls his shoulders. “That’s my cue.” His voice sounds more confident than he feels.

He offers a small bow towards Kirishima’s moms. Both of the women are watching them with bewildered expressions. “I apologize for my mother. It was lovely meeting you.”

The words are clipped and simple. They offer nothing in reply, looking far too lost in the situation to follow. Kirishima opens his mouth before snapping it shut.

“I’ll see you later.” 

Kirishima hesitates. His brows furrow. “Okay, man.”

Kirishima reluctantly pulls back, leading his moms towards the corner booming with Kaminari’s laughter and Mina’s cheery voice.

Katsuki already misses the quiet safety of the kitchen.

The Midoriya's are far less willing to release him into Mitsuki’s clutches.

“Katsuki, maybe I should-” 

“No.” Katsuki glances towards the doorway that Mitsuki had disappeared through. “It’s fine.”

Inko looks away. Katsuki follows her gaze to Aizawa. “I could get your teacher,” she murmurs quietly enough for only Katsuki and Izuku to hear. “He is a pro hero.”

“No.” Katsuki’s hands are trembling. He stuffs them in his pockets. “She just wants to talk.”

Izuku frowns, foot tapping on the ground nervously. “You’ll be back soon, right?”

“Of course.”

Katsuki has no fucking idea. His heart pounds at the thought of going off alone with his mother, but they’re at school and the worst she can do is scream at him. Better to let her get it all out now in a safe place than wait for later on. 

Katsuki forces himself to smile anyways as he slips away from the conversation. He sees the Midoriya's worried faces and Kirishima’s questioning look from the other side of the room before they’re gone from his sight.

Katsuki steadies himself and follows the path around the building. There’s a couple of his classmates and their parents out here. Some of them try to wave him over but he steadfastly ignores their attempts, instead following the trail until the trees grow thicker around him. 

The sun is shining fiercely today. Sweat trickles down his back. Soon, the leaves will turn brilliant shades of orange, red and yellow. For now summer still holds its sway. 

As the forest becomes denser, Katsuki realizes how far they have traveled from the dorms. A quick walk but far enough out of hearing range. 

Something churns in Katsuki’s stomach.

It's mostly quiet when he sees Mitsuki standing by a bench, tapping her foot impatiently. There’s a large oak tree growing just off the path, providing ample shade from the sunlight. Her eyes flick over to him and she scowls darkly.

Every muscle in his body is tightly wound as he shuffles forward, stopping just out of reach. 

Mitsuki sneers at the pathetic display and steps closer. 

“Parent’s Day,” she scoffs. “What a load of bullshit.”

Katsuki says nothing.

“Well?” She snaps, a hand darts out and smacks the side of his head. It catches him off guard. There’s not enough force behind it to hurt more than a sting. Katsuki was still far enough away to minimize the impact. “Say something, brat.”

“What do you want me to say?” He asks carefully. 

It wasn’t the right thing to say.

(Was there ever a right answer?)

Mitsuki snarls. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she complains. “Not answering my calls or my texts, off galavanting around this fucking school. I had to come all the way across goddamn town just to fucking see you.”

“I’m coming home tonight,” Katsuki says demurely. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I was just busy with school.”

“Busy?” Mitsuki huffs a dry, bitter laugh. “I work my ass off for you to attend this fancy school and you’ve been busy?”

Katsuki bites the inside of his cheek. Blood fills his mouth. His heart still thumps against the confines of his chest.

Distantly, a bird screeches in the background. 

Mitsuki stares, her red eyes piercing. “We’re leaving,” she decides abruptly.

The hag spins on her heel and begins to march back down the path. Katsuki follows mutely. 

His mother is a tempest today. Irritation draws her shoulders tautly together. Each step is precise, the point of her heel striking the cobbled path sharply. Her purse hangs off her shoulders, a black designer bag that Katsuki forgot the name of. It was his mother’s favorite brand. 

“What have you ever been busy with?” Mitsuki wondered aloud.

Katsuki stares at the ground. The stones are knit together snugly. It has a comforting feeling under his shoe. Cement would have been far easier, especially with Cementoss on staff, but UA was rich. They had money to spend on things like cobbled paths. 

“Well?” Mitsuki snaps. 

Suddenly, a hand snakes out in front of him, grasping his jaw tightly and forcing his head up. Mitsuki’s eyes burn in front of his face. She had stopped walking. 

Katsuki smothered the bolt of fear gripping his spine.

Safe, he tries to assure himself. I’m safe here.

“What?” Katsuki chokes out. Her nails dig sharply into his skin. He doesn’t know what she wants. Katsuki doesn’t even remember the question. 

“What the fuck have you been busy with? Too above me to even come up with a decent lie?”

Katsuki swallows. The hand holding his jaw hostage begins to shake his head violently. Mitsuki’s face blurs in front of him.

“Fucking tell me, Katsuki.”

“I-I fell asleep the night you called.” His voice is small in his own ears, meek and shaky. The words are hard to force out with the hand gripping his jaw tight. 

Mitsuki releases his jaw suddenly. Katsuki stumbles forward. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Right. She doesn’t want excuses but she’s asking for him to give her excuses. Katsuki doesn’t know what to say. Frantically, he wracks his brain for something to ease her rising temper.

“I was busy with school and then my friends-”

At this, Mitsuki breaks into a cruel laugh. Katsuki’s stomach sinks even lower. 

Fuck. Fuck, he shouldn’t have mentioned them. 

Her eyes glint dangerously. 

“Oh, Katsuki,” The hag shakes her head, lip curling into a familiar sneer. “Do you honestly think you’re the type of person to have friends? You can’t actually believe they like you. I mean, look at you.”

She drags her eyes in an exaggerated manner over his frame. Katsuki knows she can see the cracks in his mask-the dark smudges under his eyes, the exhausted slouch in his shoulders, the apathy washing over his face. She tuts, making her disapproval obvious. 

Katsuki withers, and he feels his body curl in on itself as he looks away. “It’s not like that.”

The hag is snorting with laughter. Something heavy curls low in his stomach. 

“You’re such an idiot, Katsuki. Honestly. No wonder your ranking dropped.”

So she knew then. Well, there went the hope that Aizawa kept that shit to himself. Katsuki flexes his fingers. They begin to tremble anyway. “I got kidnapped,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m trying to catch up.”

“Speak clearly. That was a month ago,” she scoffs, picking up his comment. “What have you been doing these past couple weeks? Slacking off? What, the villains capture you once and you just give up?”

Katsuki ducks his head. “I’m trying. It’s just been hard-”

A mistake. He flinches as she laughs coldly. 

“Hard? Don’t give me your fucking excuses, Katsuki. Are you going to start complaining about those fucking nightmares again?”

“No.” Katsuki says quickly. Denials stutter out of him. There’s no point. “No, no I just-”

“Excuses. All you’re giving me are excuses.” Mitsuki glares down at him. Her expression is flat. “You’re a disappointment. Some days, I wish those fucking villains killed you.”

Katsuki stops breathing. 

There’s no regret from the hag. No quick, taped together apology. She stares at him in the way she always does-eyes cold and shoulders set back. Anger and disgust lingering in her eyes. 

“What?” He croaks. 

Stupidly he hopes he misheard her. 

(He knows he didn’t.)

The hag rolls her eyes, beginning to stalk back towards the entrance to UA. Katsuki is left behind. His legs refuse to move. “You heard me, brat. So fucking dramatic.”

“I’ll do better,” Katsuki begs desperately. Suddenly, Mitsuki is leaving him behind and he’s chasing after her. She’s going to leave. “I’ll try harder.”

“Oh?” Mitsuki turns around, cocking an eyebrow. “You’ll try harder? At least try to sound convincing when you lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Katsuki urges. “I’m not.”

The hag continues her path to the front gate. They come out of the tree line and into the crowd of students and parents still milling around outside Heights Alliance. Izuku and Auntie Inko are standing near the edge of the crowd. Izuku catches Katsuki’s eye before Katsuki quickly looks away. 

Mitsuki catches the brief exchange anyway. “I thought I told you to stay away from him.”

“He’s in my class. I can’t avoid him.” 

“I would love to teach that boy a lesson.” Mitsuki eyes Izuku as they walk closer. Katsuki suppresses a shudder. “He’s a nosy piece of shit. Inko and him both.”

She marches past the dorms. Katsuki keeps his eyes glued to the ground as they filter between clusters of students and parents. 

“Mrs. Bakugou,” A familiar voice calls out from behind them.

When the hag turns around, her face is schooled into an even expression. He was almost impressed if the memory of her frighteningly quick emotional warfare hadn’t constantly set him on guard. Katsuki tenses and prays that Aizawa makes whatever this is quick.

“How can I help you, Aizawa?” She says curtly. “I’m in a time crunch.”

“I understand,” Aizawa says smoothly. His dark eyes flicker to Katsuki. Katsuki keeps his expression carefully blank. “I had tried to reach out to you earlier this week but my calls went unanswered.”

Mitsuki is a professional bullshitter. Katsuki has to hand her that. 

She just tuts and rummages around her purse for a sleek black phone. Aizawa waits patiently as she types away quickly before tucking the device back into her bag.

“I’m typically busy this time of year,” she explains without pause. “I have you down for Tuesday 10am. Whatever this is we can discuss then.”

Katsuki knows she probably just opened one of her social media apps to appear busy. By the time Tuesday morning rolls around, Mitsuki will have already forgotten this discussion even occurred. He almost pities Aizawa, who just smiles benignly. Usually the hero is smarter than that. Not that he has much experience dealing with Mitsuki.

(Katsuki knows all of her tricks.)

“Of course, I look forward to it.” 

Mitsuki walks away and Katsuki reluctantly follows. When he risks a glance over his shoulder, Aizawa is watching them leave. He swallows hard. Before he turns away, he sees Aizawa pulled back into the dorms by one of his classmate’s parents. 

The hag yanks Katsuki by his arm, pulling him close to her and lurching them both around the corner of the building. They’re out of sight from anyone else. She still smells faintly of alcohol, smothered by the nauseating scent of sickly sweet perfume. Katsuki wants to vomit.

“What the fuck was that, Katsuki?”

“I don’t know,” Katsuki lies.

Mitsuki hits him sharply across the face. “You’re a fucking piece of shit, you know that?”

Katsuki can feel the blood welling in the cut from the path her ring had cut in his cheek. It must have twisted around on her finger. The sharp gemstone has sliced his skin before. He tastes the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

They stare at each other. 

It’s like a switch is flipped. The anxiety is so abruptly replaced with seething, burning rage that Katsuki spits the glob of blood in his mouth right at her feet. She recoils in disgust.

“Fuck you,” he snarls. “Call me a piece of shit all you want, but I clearly got it from somewhere.”

Mitsuki’s pretty face twists into a dark expression. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“I don’t know why you can’t just stop being a bitch for maybe five minutes in your fucking life. Every time I see you, all you do is tell me what a shitty person I am, or how I’m such a fucking villain-”

“Oh, because you’re such a fucking saint,” Mitsuki spat. “I have tried to fix you but clearly you’re beyond help!”

“You keep asking shit from me, but I don’t know what you fucking want anymore!” Katsuki throws his hands up in the air. “What do I have to do to finally meet your perfect fucking standards? You blame everything on me! Nothing I do ever pleases you!”

“Because you’re fucking weak, Katsuki! You’re nothing but a spoiled brat playing hero!” The hag hisses, shoving him backward. 

Katsuki clenches his fists, ignoring the way his gut twists as the hag screams at him. He swipes the blood off his cheek.

She is the picture of a demon, mouth twisted into something devilish and crude. Her nails are sharp and he can almost imagine them as talons, ready to tear his skin to shreds.

Katsuki hates her. He hates her so fucking much but she’s his mother, too. This monster is his mother and somewhere inside of her, there must be a heart, there must be something that resembles love for him. He loves her but he hates her. 

Katsuki wishes he had killed himself a month ago. Maybe she would have cried. This wretched, spiteful thing spitting and hissing at him might have regretted the way she treated him. 

Probably not, but still. Katsuki hoped. Either way, he would be dead and away from her. What more did he have to offer? What other parts of himself could he hide away to make himself loveable?

Nothing, the voice in his mind murmured. There’s nothing you can do that will ever fix you.

Katsuki didn’t believe he would live to adulthood. He didn’t think this was salvageable.

(This being Katsuki, this being the failure he was, this being the monster she was molding him to be.)

“Fuck you. You know what? I’m done. I’m fucking done with you.” He whirls around and stalks towards the main pathway where the crowd is gathered. He needs to be alone. Katsuki wants to tear out the beating heart caged behind his ribs, he wants to rip apart his flesh and bleed, he wants to ruin everything that could ever be called his.

Mitsuki isn’t done. She never was. He makes it a grand total of two steps before she returns to hurling nasty words. “You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she growls. He heard the sound of her footsteps as she stalked after him. “I gave you everything-I paid for everything for you. And this is how you repay me? Having a fucking temper tantrum and then running away? Every time I fucking see you, I’m reminded of just how much of goddamn disappointment you really are. All you do is hurt people, Katsuki. You're a fucking monster.”

Katsuki freezes. He feels oddly sick to his stomach. 

There’s Kamino Ward, the hundreds, if not thousands, of injured and deceased because of him. There’s the Sludge Villain attack, his own hands bringing destruction and pain to a cluster of people. There’s the Sports Festival, his drive to prove himself at the cost of his opponents safety. 

All around him, everywhere he goes, people are hurt. 

She spoke the truth about him and he hated her for it. He couldn’t deny it. But she was wrong about one thing. 

“I always took care of you,” he whispered quietly. The words rose within him, always lingering on the outskirts of his thoughts but finally gaining enough anger, enough traction to burst forth within him without a second thought. “You never did shit for me. All you did was get drunk and pay the fucking bills. I cooked for you, I fed you, I cleaned the fucking house for you. I flipped you on your fucking stomach everytime you drank too much so you wouldn’t die in your sleep. And I’m the spoiled one?”

Katsuki was too fucked up to be loved normally. And he was so fucking tired of trying to be something he so clearly wasn’t. All he could offer was what he was worth to other people. The services he could provide. An ally, a tutor, a fucking maid. 

Maybe being fed up with giving his all to her made him the villain. 

Katsuki squared his shoulders as Mitsuki narrowed her eyes. He didn’t fucking care. If this was it, if this was the last time he would put up with her fucking bullshit, then he wasn’t going to bite his tongue. And Katsuki wasn’t going to fucking cower from her either. Fuck her.

Distantly, Katsuki knew that pissing off the beast was a bad idea. He understood that he would pay for it later. But he was tired. 

If he was going to die, he would do it telling the truth. What was there to live for, anyway? The nightmares? The fucking anxiety that bled him dry of normal human interaction? The ever present ache of nothingness sucking the miniscule happiness he held onto?

Katsuki wanted to laugh.

“You owe me,” she hisses, stepping closer. Her red eyes burn with hatred, with disgust, with every awful fucking emotion that Katsuki dragged out of her small, shriveled heart. “I have done everything I could to make you a decent person. I gave you everything-”

“You gave me everything?” Katsuki drags his hands violently through his hair. “That’s a fucking lie. You never did shit for me.”

Mitsuki laughed, and it was bitter, and angry, and condescending. 

Katsuki hated her. “You’re nothing but a villain, Katsuki. I tried my damn hardest to get that out of you. I tried to fix you. But it looks like I failed. You’re halfway to becoming a villain already, and you can’t even see it.” Katsuki felt as if he were only three feet tall. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to fight her. 

And didn’t that make him the villain? Wasn’t that another nail in his coffin?

Unfortunately, Mitsuki wasn’t done. 

“You know something Kat? I regret not getting that abortion. Masaru tried to convince me I wasn’t ready for a kid, and he was right.” Mitsuki shakes her head, almost managing to look sad. Katsuki thought he might be dying. It felt like a balloon popped. Any residual anger disappeared when the words slipped from her mouth. He didn’t feel anything, really. Just empty. Like a hollow shell.

“What?” His voice sounded strangled in his ears. He couldn’t remember deciding to speak. Katsuki couldn’t find it within himself to care. “What the fuck?”

“It would’ve been better if you were never born." Suddenly her anger was back; replacing the cold, spiteful mask she had previously worn. Katsuki couldn't match it. Every glowing ember of burning hatred had died within him. He just felt cold. “The world would’ve been better off without you. God, I wish you fucking killed yourself years ago.”

Faintly, Katsuki remembered the words. The same words he repeated back to Deku in a spiral of self-hatred. 

I hope you take a swan dive off the roof.

Katsuki just-

He couldn’t. He couldn’t stay here. He spun on his heel and walked quickly away. The tears were filling his eyes but he glued his gaze to the ground. Katsuki couldn’t bear looking at anyone right now. He couldn’t even think past the barrage of familiar, angry curses behind him. He was positive it was his mother. She never finished destroying him. 

Something in him breaks.

Katsuki steps back into the blinding sun. Happy families talk animatedly around him. Mitsuki slips out from behind him, sneering as she pushes him aside and makes her way off campus. Katsuki knows she expects him to follow.

Izuku emerges from the crowd, Inko nowhere in sight. His face is wrinkled with worry. Katsuki tries to evade him by entering the dorms, but Izuku steps into his path easily.

“You were gone for a while, Kacchan. We got worried.” Izuku scans him up and down, taking in the stricken expression on his face and the smear of blood. “What happened?”

“Fuck off, Deku,” He says tiredly. Katsuki still can’t see one trace of Inko. “Where’s Auntie?”

“She’s still looking for you.” Izuku looks over his shoulder. “I’m not sure where she is now. Why?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He’s grateful she isn't here. 

Izuku follows him into the dorms.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Katsuki grumbles. He doesn’t have time for this shit. He needs to grab his bag and leave. The longer he waited the worse it was going to be when he got home. The hag would have time to think and plan shit. 

“I’m worried about you.”

“Okay, and I don’t care.”

“What did she say to you?” Izuku grabs his arm, but Katsuki rips it out of his grasp. “Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter, alright? I need to leave.”

Izuku frowns, following him up the stairs. God, why couldn’t he just leave him the fuck alone?

“Where are you going?” Izuku asks suspiciously. His eyes narrow. “Kacchan-”

“I’m going home.” Katsuki swipes his card through the lock, and the door clicks open. He doesn’t bother closing it, his bag is packed and sitting on his bed. Katsuki slings it over his shoulder and exits the room.

Izuku is leaning against the wall. He straightens immediately when Katsuki closes the door behind him.

“Why are you going home?” Izuku demands. 

Katsuki ignores him, brushing past roughly to head towards the staircase.

“Kacchan!” Izuku calls, running to catch up. 

Idly, Katsuki debates pushing him down the stairs. Izuku would be fine. And then maybe he could get some peace and quiet. 

He doesn’t, obviously.

They begin to descend down the stairs. Izuku is muttering under his breath. Nothing Katsuki can really make out and frankly he doesn’t even want to guess.

“Oi, stop that,” he swats Izuku’s head without any force behind it. The muttering stops, and Izuku refocuses back on him. “The hag wants me home.”

“Don’t go,” Izuku says suddenly. 

Katsuki regrets telling him anything. 

“It’ll be fine.”

“Kacchan, please. Come home with my mom and I.” 

This causes him to pause. Izuku hasn’t offered his home since that night. Katsuki must really look like shit if Izuku doesn’t think he can handle it. 

But he can. He can and it's fine. He needs this. 

“It’ll be fine, okay? Nothing is going to happen.” 

Neither of them actually believed what Katsuki said. Vainly, he hoped Izuku would just drop it. Time was ticking. 

“I won’t let you go.” Izuku finally says firmly. “I can’t.”

“You aren’t letting me do anything,” Katsuki’s eyes narrow. “There’s no discussion here. I’m going home. That’s it.”

Izuku grabs his shoulder. “Wait-”

Against his better judgment, he halts. There’s one flight of stairs between him and the common room. Izuku gathers himself, biting his lip. It was a nervous habit he never grew out of. 

“I’m waiting.” Katsuki reminds him.

“Right.” Izuku shifts his weight. “I-just, well you see-”

“Deku.” Katsuki says flatly. “Spit it the fuck out.”

Izuku sighs. He looks to the ground. “Don’t go.”

“Not this shit again.” Katsuki groans. “It’s fine. Stop worrying about every little thing.”

“Last time you came back drunk and bleeding, Kacchan. Of course I’m going to be worried.”

“Well, don’t do that.”

“Oh so you just want me to stop worrying about you?” Izuku crosses his arms, scowling.

“Yes,” Katsuki stresses. “I don’t need you making a big deal out of nothing.”

“How was that nothing? You were crying in my bathroom, saying that you wanted to-”

“Stop!” Katsuki cuts him off quickly. “God, it wasn’t-it was just a bad night, okay?”

Izuku sighs, deflating a little. “I don’t want you to leave. Maybe I should get Aizawa.”

“No.” Katuki shakes his head firmly. “Fuck no. Don’t do that shit. Didn’t you fucking learn your lesson last time?”

“What the hell?” Izuku looks bewildered. “Kacchan, if anyone could help, it would be him.”

“No. I fucking said no, alright?” Katsuki clenches his jaw. 

Fuck this. 

He turns and continues down the final flight of stairs. Izuku scrambles to follow him. “Kacchan, why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” 

Irritation flickers across his face. “You don’t have to keep going back there.”

“Oh yeah? What's the other option?”

“I already gave you one. Come home with me. Or tell Aizawa, I don’t know. Just something.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” 

They reach the bottom floor. Katsuki barrels onward, leaving Izuku struggling to catch up. Katsuki flings the door open, and sunlight momentarily blinds him.

“I’m not going to continue to watch you destroy yourself. I care about you, Kacchan. You’ve always been right by my side. But I can’t do this. Not anymore.” 

Katsuki ignores the shaking in his limbs. “Then don’t. I’m not fucking keeping you here. Leave.”

“Kacchan-”

“I don’t want to hear it. Get the fuck away from me.”

Their conversation is quickly drawing attention from the gathering of people strewn across the lawn. Kirishima and Iida run up to them.

“Guys, whatever you’re arguing about, can we table this for later?” Kirishima says. 

Iida pushes his glasses up his nose. “It’s not proper behavior to act like this in front of our classmates and their parents,” he says matter of factly. 

“Don’t worry,” Katsuki says smoothly. “I was just leaving.”

Something shutters in Izuku’s eyes. “Fuck you, Katsuki.”

He snorts. “Pulling out the big boy words, are we?” He sneers.

“Bakugou-” Kirishima starts.

“I’m just trying to help you. Maybe stop being a complete dick for once in your life and just fucking accept it.”

Iida sputters. “M-Midoriya!”

Izuku grits his teeth. “Not now, Iida,” he snaps.

Katsuki laughs. “That’s fucking rich, coming from you.”

“This isn’t about me,” Izuku spits. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

“Guys-” Kirishima tries again.

“Stay out of this,” Izuku and Katsuki snarl in unison. 

Immediately, they whirl back on each other. 

“Why can’t you just listen to me, just this one fucking time?”

“Oh I listened to you, remember?” Katsuki drags his hand through his hair. “Or did you forget?”

Izuku pales, anguish lining his face. “I-Kacchan, no-”

“Don’t tell me you forgot-”

“I didn’t forget. God, I can’t forget it.” Izuku deflates. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Katsuki shakes his head. His stomach churns at the mere thought of the pills and blood. “Maybe if you minded your fucking business-”

“Okay, I'm getting Aizawa.” Kirishima says quickly.

Iida nods affirmatively. “Bakugou, Midoriya-”

“Don’t put that on me.” Izuku sounds on the verge of tears. “Kacchan, if I had any idea-”

“It’s your fault I’m in this situation anyway.” Katsuki continues.

Izuku’s breath hitches. The tears finally spilled over. Iida looks conflicted, torn between comforting Izuku and stopping Katsuki. 

“Kacchan,” he murmurs brokenly. “I didn’t know.”

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen?”

“I was just trying to help,” Izuku begs him. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, some fucking help you were.” Katsuki feels the burn of unshed tears in his own eyes. “Do me a favor, and leave me the fuck alone this time, alright?”

“I know what you’re doing.” Izuku sniffles. “Don’t do this. Please.”

“Fuck off.” 

Katsuki stalks away, leaving Iida floundering. 

“I-what-Bakugou!”

Katsuki ignores them. He ignores everything Iida calls after him. All he can hear are Izuku’s sobs. 

It’s your fucking fault.

The pit of emptiness opens inside his chest. The tears finally ran down his face, salty and warm. He wipes them away furiously. 

No one else tries to stop him from leaving through the front gate.

Chapter Text

The walk to the train station is lonely and Katsuki doesn’t remember much from it. 

His brain is running a mile a minute. Katsuki can't focus on anything. Suddenly, Katsuki goes from leaving the front gate of UA high school to sitting on the train. He is vaguely aware of his phone vibrating in his pocket, filled with notifications. 

The fight with Izuku is still fresh in his mind. 

Katsuki hated himself. He didn’t blame Izuku, he couldn't, it was never his fault. It was all Katsuki’s. 

Katsuki wanted to crawl in a hole and die at the look of devastation in Izuku’s eyes when he said those words. He’s said many fucked up things to Izuku over the years, and the goddamn saint never really took them to heart, but this was different. He knew that the moment those words left his mouth. 

Katsuki went way to fucking far. Izuku would never forgive him for this. 

He shouldn’t.

Izuku should never forgive him. Katsuki would miss him, but maybe this way he would never have to hurt Izuku again. After all, Izuku was better off without Katsuki around.

Katsuki was damaged. All he knew how to do was hurt. Katsuki couldn’t be more than this.

Katsuki abruptly got up from his seat on the train, earning annoyed looks from the passengers around him. One lady gave an irritated huff when his leg knocked her bag.

“Sorry.” He muttered as he shoved his way through the crowd. 

Katsuki managed to get to the bathroom stall, locking the door and leaning against the dirty sink. The mirror was foggy and scratched. It was difficult to make out his reflection, and Katsuki almost didn't want to look.

But there it was.

The same blonde hair, red eyes and straight nose. 

Mitsuki.

Katsuki wanted to puke. 

He couldn’t look away. There she was. He could see her in every feature, every shadow on his face. 

You’re just like her. 

Katsuki wanted to punch the mirror. He wanted it to shatter. He wanted to break the skin on his knuckles. He wanted to hurt.

Katsuki left the bathroom. The seat he had previously occupied was taken by a young mother, cradling her baby close. Katsuki just leaned against the side of the train, letting his eyes slip shut. 

She is so, so fucking mad. She will kill you. She will fucking kill you, you worthless piece of-

The overhead system chimes, announcing their arrival at Katsuki’s stop. He opens his eyes as the train slows to a halt. Katsuki joins the flood of people through the doors and on to the platform. More passengers file out around him. The young mother leaves the train as well, just as her baby begins to fuss. Katsuki watches them prepare to walk in the opposite direction.

The woman lovingly coos to her small child, brushing strands of hair from his face. She begins to sing a lullaby under her breath. Katsuki is close enough to hear it. The child begins to quiet, his smushed face smoothing out as she sings. 

She notices him staring and offers a small smile, hands tightening her hold on the child.

Katsuki tries to smile back. He wonders if his mother ever sang songs to him when he cried. Maybe she loved him like that once, too. 

Were all mothers destined to hate their offspring? Or was it just Katsuki that brought out the worst in people?

Katsuki shoves his hands deep in his pockets as he walks the familiar path home. There were a lot of extra people on the train today. Everyone was in a rush to get home. The weekend was fresh in their minds. The incentive of a little more time spent with family and friends causing an extra bounce in their steps. 

He was never as happy as they seemed to be walking home. Each step felt like a death sentence, each street he turned down caused his heart to ache in his chest. Katsuki watched the birds flying through the sky and prayed God would reincarnate him as something so free and careless. 

Too soon, Katsuki finds himself approaching his house. But once he's there, Katsuki can't move. His feet are glued to the pavement in front of the walkway up to his door. 

One step towards the confines he grew up in. One step into her domain. One step, and Katsuki was hidden away from the rest of the world. Mitsuki ruled as judge, jury and executioner. 

His legs start moving against his better judgment. The door whines loudly as he opens it.

Mitsuki never fixed it. She liked the heads up it gave her whenever Katsuki came home. He could never hide. She always knew. 

Katsuki slipped into the house, silent as a mouse. 

It didn’t matter. 

Mitsuki stood in the entryway. Her arms were crossed over her chest, posture relaxed but the small tick in her fingers gave her away. Those red eyes focused on every move Katsuki makes as he took his shoes off. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. Mitsuki simply watched.

She was like a hawk. Her sharp eyes followed every movement he made. Katsuki set his bag down on the floor and she followed it. Katsuki took an unwilling step closer to her and those eyes narrowed in on the hesitation. Katsuki stood before her and her eyes stared at the cut on his cheek. 

Katsuki let her dissect him. She pulled him apart-from the tightness in his shoulders to the slight slump of his posture. Mitsuki read him like she read her books. Methodically. The hunter observed its prey.

When Katsuki twitched, she finally spoke.

“You embarrassed me today.”

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes flashed. “No you’re not.”

Katsuki bit his tongue. She paused, her nose curling in disgust as she savored the words she was about to hurl at him. Anything to break him. 

“You need to be brought back in line. I don’t like the way you’ve been acting out lately.” Mitsuki uncrossed her arms. There was almost a cautious way she was holding herself back. None of her usual explosiveness. Instead, the anger was quiet and simmered beneath the surface.

Katsuki had never been more fucking terrified in his life. He could hardly breathe. Somehow, he was sure, breath was entering and leaving his lungs, but he could not feel it. He couldn’t feel his fingers or toes. No, everything was washed away in cold fear. 

Mitsuki took a step closer. 

Suddenly, her hand darted out and Katsuki quickly squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, but no pain came. Instead, a loud bang echoed near his ear as her fist smashed into the drywall. Dust filtered down, brushing his neck. 

“Fucking look at me, brat.”

He forced his eyes open. 

Mitsuki towered in front of him, so much hatred swimming in her eyes. Katsuki’s legs threatened to buckle. 

What would she do? What could she do? Katsuki frantically tried to figure out any way to soothe her temper. Should he cower in front of her? Should he bite his tongue? Should he be meek and agreeable? Which method would calm her the most? Which would ensure Katsuki would be safest? 

He couldn’t figure it out. She had never been this mad before. The anger had never grown to such heights that it turned quiet. Katsuki didn’t know what to do. This was uncharted territory.

“M-mom,” he stuttered.

A slap whipped his head to the side. Pain exploded on his face and his eyes watered from the force of her rage. 

There, just to the side, were his shoes. Neatly tucked in the proper cubby hole. 

Katsuki blinked the tears from his eyes. 

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Mitsuki hissed. Her nails dug into his jaw and his head was forced to turn and face her. Mitsuki’s breath smelled like onions. Katsuki struggled to meet her eyes. His muscles kept flinching unwillingly. “Look at me. Fucking look at me.”

He shouldn’t speak. No talking, she would hate that. Katsuki met her gaze, reaching to draw up some leftover confidence. It shrunk away at the  gleam in her eyes. 

Love, he pondered. Did she ever have that emotion for him? Katsuki couldn’t find any trace of it in her face. She probably never did, not like that mother on the train. Katsuki was born from her rage. He was formed in her womb, swimming in her disgust and anger. 

“I am very disappointed in you, Katsuki.” 

She finally released his face. He could still feel the ache of her nails in his skin. Maybe he was bleeding. Katsuki wasn’t sure.

“Not so cocky now, are we? What happened, brat?” She mocked, head tilted to the side. Her lips quirked into a cruel smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll be punished properly for your little defiance.”

Her hands gripped his shirt collar, yanking him forward as she marched down the hall. Katsuki’s feet caught on the floor and he nearly landed on the ground before he caught himself. She continued on, growling under her breath. 

Where was she taking him? The closet? 

Katsuki tried to swallow the fear threading its way through his limbs. His heart pounded, a roaring sound filling his ears as Mitsuki pulled him along. 

Not the closet, he wanted to beg. Please, anything but that.

Mitsuki stopped in front of the closet. Dread curdled his stomach like spoiled milk.

“Please,” he begged. “Please. I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I swear.”

“Ugh,” her nose wrinkled in disgust. “You’re fucking pathetic, Katsuki.”

Katsuki stared at the open door of the closet. It was small. It always was, but now even more so. Katsuki had built his frame up over these past couple months of training at UA. He wasn’t bulky, but he wasn't as slender as he had been. 

There was no way he would ever comfortably fit in the closet. 

Katsuki’s muscles quivered. He tried to stop it before she noticed, but her eyes caught the movement. Mitsuki snorted.

“Don’t act like that. I’m just putting you in time out, it's not that fucking serious.” she whipped around, pulling something black from the side table. 

Katsuki recognized it immediately.

“I took a page out of UA’s book for this one,” she told him, proudly displaying the muzzle. “I had it custom made just for you. It took a couple months, but it finally arrived.”

She eyed him up and down. “Serves you right for mouthing off today. I won’t tolerate disrespect, you know that. Katsuki, I only want the best for you.”

Her voice took on a deceivingly softer tone. 

“It’s only until you learn your lesson, Katsuki. You shouldn’t be acting like a toddler. You are sixteen years old, Katsuki. You better start acting like it. I’m your mother and I deserve some respect. I’ve sacrificed a lot for you, you know.”

Katsuki froze, unable to move an inch as she approached. The muzzle settled over his face, digging into the skin on his nose and cheeks. Mitsuki strapped it on tightly, buckling the clasp behind his head. 

Dabi grinned, slowly stretching the raw, burnt skin around his mouth. The muzzle dangled tauntingly in his hands. Ever so carefully, he approached. Katsuki screamed, but there was no one to hear him. No one was coming. 

His scream choked to a halt as the muzzle was forced onto his face, the gag settling roughly into his mouth. Iron coated his tongue. 

Dabi laughed. 

Katsuki blinked. 

Mitsuki was shoving him in the closet now, still talking. Katsuki hadn’t heard half of what she had been saying. With growing horror, Katsuki realized his hands had been shoved into thick gloves. The fabric was terrifyingly familiar to him. 

“-get your grades up and act better. Katsuki, I do this because I love you. I don’t want to turn on the news one day and see you blowing up the fucking town. It’s time you start acting like a hero, not like a villain. Control yourself.”

She pushed him into the closet. Katsuki hit the wall, and she scoffed. He tried vainly to spark off, to let frantic explosions burst around him, but nothing came from it. 

“So dramatic. God, Katsuki, pull yourself together.” Her hand rested on the door handle. Those red eyes seemed to glow in the light of the room, staring down at him unflinchingly. “You asked for this, Katsuki. This is happening because you acted out. Don’t forget that. Use this time to reflect on your actions.”

Tears gathered in his eyes, and Mitsuki grimaced. The walls pressed against him. Katsuki already had to tuck his legs to fit in the small space. 

Were the walls getting closer? God with the gag in his mouth he could barely breathe. The holes of the muzzle offered little room for air to leak through. He wouldn't die, though, right? It couldn’t suffocate him.

“Think about who you want to be, Katsuki. Hero or villain. I won’t have a villain in this household, I’ll tell you that.”

The door slammed closed, forcing his legs even further against his body. It was painful. The entire space pressed against him. There was little room for any movement. Katsuki could barely shift his body around and everything was already hurting.

Katsuki whined, the noise smothered in the muzzle. 

Everything was dark. Mitsuki had lined the edges of the door with something so he couldn’t see any light. It was pitch black. Were his eyes even open?

The air was growing hot, too. Sweat slicked his back. Katsuki tried to breathe evenly but they started to stick in his throat. Oxygen, he needed oxygen. Was this mask breathable or was it fucking suffocating him?

Katsuki tried to claw it off, but it wasn’t budging. The quirk suppressing gloves were bulky and he couldn't manage to grab any of the claps holding the muzzle in place. When he searching for the clip to undo the gloves, he found a small lock in place.

Fuck. Fuck, Katsuki was stuck. He couldn’t breathe. Fingers attempted to bluntly scratch any available skin. Sweat burned the wounds that were rubbed raw but his lungs weren’t working. The air was stale, there was no oxygen to be found. He couldn’t move an inch god he was going to fucking die in here and no one would even know.

Katsuki tried to scream. Nothing came out, just a muffled fucked up sound. He couldn't even hear Mitsuki moving outside. God, he was alone. She probably left the house. She would never know if he died. 

Katsuki heaved his diaphragm, but there wasn’t enough air.

His hands buzzed. The darkness cloaked his eyes. The muzzle cut his skin. Everything hurt. Katsuki screamed. His head spun.

Dabi shoved him from behind. Katsuki stumbled forward. 

The hallway was dimly lit, yellow light illuminating dirty walls. The whole place smelled like sweat and piss. It felt damp too, like a musty old basement. They moved along hall after hall, turning down a seemingly endless array of passages and rooms. 

The place couldn’t be that big. Logically, Katsuki knew they were probably turning in circles to disorient him. 

It was working. Katsuki couldn’t even begin to figure out how to get back to the room they entered via portal. They had passed so many suspicious looking stains on the walls, Katsuki couldn’t tell you if they were the same with any greater accuracy than he could their location. He was so fucking lost.

The muzzle was painful, and bulky on his face. There were thin ropes cutting into the skin on his wrists. The skin was chafing there already. On top of it all, they had shoved his hands into quirk-suppressing gloves. 

Katsuki wouldn't be exploding anyone or anything as long as they were in effect. 

Even if Katsuki wanted to break away and attempt to run, Dabi kept a firm hand on the back of his neck, guiding him through the maze. The threat went unsaid. Katsuki had been burned before and it was painful. Burning to death was a threat he would obey without question. 

Dabi finally entered one of the many doors lining the halls. He reached a scarred arm out to turn the handle, gesturing for Katsuki to enter.

He did.

Inside, there was a girl with cat-like yellow eyes, gently caressing a knife. She looked up when they entered, mouth stretching into a wide smile.

“Oooo,” she cooed at him, prancing closer when Dabi had closed the door, his hand still gripping Katsuki’s neck. “A present? For me?”

Dabi’s chuckle rumbled behind him. Shivers ran down Katsuki’s spine. 

“Shigaraki wants this one to join us.” 

Katsuki is shoved towards a wall. 

The entire room is concrete. It’s small, Katsuki estimates it a solid 10x10. On the wall facing him, there are chains attached to the concrete. They’re rusted and dirty. The metal links are thick and each chain looks heavy.

Fuck no. Katsuki isn't going to do that shit. 

Before he can make a move, Dabi’s hand burns hot against his neck. Katsuki screams, knees buckling as red-hot pain explodes from his nape. The sound is muffled against the muzzle, and something cold and heavy is quickly latched on to each wrist and ankle.  

The hand released the back of his throbbing neck. The nauseating scent of burning flesh floods his nostrils.  

Katsuki was pressed flush to the wall. The chains weren’t long enough to afford much movement. The two villains watched him as he tugged fruitlessly against the constraints. It was no use. Katsuki was stuck here.

Internally he cursed his stupidity. Katsuki should have blasted them the moment they came through the portal. 

Truthfully, the marble quirk had fucked him in the head. Katsuki hated tight spaces as it was. Coming out from being compressed into a marble for who knows how long had fucked with his head. Katsuki was frozen in fear. 

What a fucking idiot. Katsuki was better than that. He should be better than that. He was a hero in training for fucks’ sake. Katsuki wasn’t supposed to freeze.

The girl giggled. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun! Kacchan,” the name rolled off her tongue and Katsuki wanted to puke. “Want to be friends with us?”

Katsuki hesitated, gaze flickering to Dabi’s icy blue eyes. The villain watched him, amused. 

Katsuki had never felt more fucking weak and helpless in his entire life.

Dabi cocked his head, smirking. “C’mon little hero. They’ve hurt you. We just want to help you.”

Katsuki shook his head vehemently. What a load of shit. As if they hadn’t just burned him, muzzled him and tied him up. Plus they took his fucking quirk away. These fuckers really knew how to restrain people. The words he wanted to speak became a useless blend of groans against the muzzle.

If these low lifes really thought Bakugou Katsuki would ever become a villain, they had another thing coming for them. 

“Oh no,” the girl whined. Even so, something glinted in her eyes. Her grip shifted on the knife. Katsuki eyed the flash of silver uneasily. “That’s too bad.”

“Toga, not too much damage. You have two hours with him and then the healer will come in. Nothing fatal. Nothing beyond their quirk’s capabilities.”

Toga-the cat-eyed girl- huffed. “Don’t worry, I can control myself.”

Dabi began to leave the room. Katsuki stiffened, eyes shifting between Toga and Dabi. He tried to recoil, but his back only pressed further into the cool concrete. “Have fun, kid.”

Katsuki didn’t even know which one of them he was talking to.

The door shut behind him, and Toga advanced upon him, knife in hand. 

Katsuki jerked. His eyes darted around frantically, but he couldn’t see a lick of anything. Where was Toga? Who had turned out the lights?

Desperately, he listened closely for the sound of her footsteps. He couldn’t move. Maybe they knocked him out? Katsuki whimpered. Fuck, they were going to hurt him. The muzzle still rested firmly on his face.

He never made it out. He never left. The League had him the entire time. There was no escape, Katsuki was going to die because no one was coming for him. 

Everything was close. The walls pressed into his sides. His joints ached, muscles cramping from the curled position his body was forced into. 

It was so fucking dark and Katsuki didn’t know when they were going to come for him. Breathing was hard. His chest ached. No air. Nothing. Fuck he couldn’t breathe.

Katsuki trembled.

His heart pounded. The sound of his blood rushing through his body filled his ears. He couldn’t hear anything else. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Katsuki tried to scream. 

Everything fucking hurt.

Chains forced his body into a standing position. Katsuki blinked blearily. The room was all fuzzy. He couldn’t really focus on one thing. Something was moving in front of him, getting closer. Katsuki tried to reel back but the chains caught, preventing him from moving any further. 

He hissed as pain slammed back into him.

But the weight on his face was gone. Air flowed unrestricted in and out of his lungs. 

No muzzle, he realized. When had they taken it off?

“It’s okay, don’t move right now.” The voice was gentle. Katsuki knew better than to try to relax. “You’re okay, Kacchan.”

“Izuku?” Katsuki murmured. His lips felt numb. God, why did his head hurt so much?

The person giggled. The sound immediately set him on edge.

“No, silly. It’s Toga.”

Katsuki’s breath hitched. Fear gripped him, he was too scared to even move. He couldn’t let her see his fear. Katsuki was better than this. He could still win. 

He was a hero. Heroes didn't get scared. They were brave. They smiled in the face of danger. Like All Might.

“Oh, don’t be silly. You’re so cute, all bloody.”

Something cold and sharp traced his arm. Katsuki couldn’t breathe.

“We still have some time left,” a voice whispered into his ear. “What else can we do?”

Katsuki abandoned trying to be fearless. He whimpered, tears running down his face. It seemed to clear what was in his eyes, because he could now see Toga’s face, inches from his. She smiled, the splatter of blood on her face shifting. Katsuki realized, in a horrified moment of clarity, the blood was his.

What?

There was a glint of silver, and something cold ripped violently across his stomach.

The pain crashed into him, and he screamed. His voice tore his throat, raw and painful. He could taste blood in his mouth. 

Katsuki prayed he choked on it.

Katsuki whimpered, coiled into an uncomfortable position. It was so dark here. There was no light. The League must be lurking around somewhere, waiting for the right moment to strike. They would kill him. They would kill him and no one would ever come to find his body.

Katsuki sobbed. 

He wanted to die. He wanted to fucking die. Please let this be the last thing they ever did. Katsuki couldn’t take it anymore. 

The waiting was killing him. The muzzle around his face felt heavy. The quirk suppressing gloves taunted his inability to save himself. 

Katsuki had never felt more helpless in his life. 

A noise sounded from somewhere far away, and Katsuki stopped breathing.

No. Please, fucking no. No, no no. Katsuki couldn't. He can’t.

Somewhere in the dark, foggy confines of his own mind, Katsuki felt hands moving over his body. 

No more, he wanted to beg them, please no more. 

These hands did not leave cracking bones or ripped skin in their wake. They felt like warm summer nights, fireflies flitting around as dusk grew into night, warm gentle breezes and toasted marshmallows. These hands were unfamiliar, yet Katsuki welcomed them.

Eventually, the perpetual fog surrounding his state of mind began to lift, and with it, Katsuki opened his eyes.

An unknown person crouched before him. They had brown hair and brown eyes; overall a very plain appearance. There were no cords of muscles, or interesting scars. This person was entirely unordinary.

Katsuki tried to speak, he tried to force a sound from his cracked lips and aching throat, but nothing came. The mysterious figure healed more wounds on his legs, righting his ankle from its unnatural position. 

Katsuki did not feel any of it, only the same warmth from before. 

A wonderful quirk, he mused. 

If only his newly healed state didn’t promise more injuries to scatter his frame. 

Katsuki closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Toga had already slit the veins in his arms, and he screamed as blood pooled on the concrete below him. 

Katsuki’s face was warm and wet. His breath hitched. 

Was there blood in his eyes? Katsuki couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t give in. No matter what, Katsuki couldn’t give in.

Katsuki hoped Toga would kill him. Maybe this was death. This darkness was all consuming; this tight and cramped space a coffin his body was shoved in. The fires of hell would soon lick his heels.

There was no escape. Katsuki wanted to scream. He was never going to get out of here. 

His head spun dizzily, and Katsuki’s lungs shuddered.

“Will you join us?” Shigaraki asked. His red eyes gleamed triumphantly as he gazed down on Katsuki’s crumpled, mangled body.

Each breath wheezed painfully from his lungs. Days and nights bled into each other. Every waking moment was pain and screams and fog. Katsuki wasn’t sure how long he had been kept here.

He wanted to beg for mercy but Katsuki knew there was none to give. 

Shigaraki kicked his ribs, and Katsuki choked on the breath in his lungs. “Cmon, kid. All of this will be over if you say yes.”

Katsuki knew without a doubt that he couldn’t ever give in. But to what? What was he fighting for? There must be something he was still holding on to. Katsuki thought of green hair and soft smiles. 

Them. Katsuki would fight for them.

“No,” he rasped painfully. 

Shigaraki’s face twisted. “We don’t have much time left,” he snapped to someone off to the side. 

Katsuki couldn’t gather up enough energy to look. 

“You have one more chance to get this right,” he continues. “Don’t hold back.”

Something raced across his arm, growing hotter. Pain burned his skin. Every nerve lit up, screaming at him to move, to run away. Katsuki yanked against the chains, nearly ripping his joint off of its socket but a firm hand held him back alongside the metal. 

Katsuki screamed as his skin bubbled. 

He couldn't take anymore. He couldn't do it. It was too much all at once.

Katsuki stepped away. He was there, limp against the chains as unintelligible screams and moans slipped from the body’s mouth. Muscles twitched in pure agony. Katsuki watched it all with detached interest.

Distantly, as if coming from a long and dark tunnel, he could feel something that hurt. But Katsuki pushed that away as well. 

Not right now, he begged. I can’t deal with that right now.

In the foggy confines of his own mind, Katsuki drifted. 

The door burst open, light blinding him. Katsuki tumbled out onto the hard floors. Everything in his body ached and screamed at the sudden movement. Reality itself was sharp and disorienting; light and shapes and sound suddenly flooding all of his senses.

“Oh god,” a voice above him slurred. Katsuki made out brown house slippers in front of him. “Oh, Katsuki m’ so sorry. I forgot ‘ou were n’ there.”

Hands reached for his face and Katsuki flinched backward. He didn't know where this was. He couldn't recognize the voice as someone from the League, but Katsuki couldn't be sure.

“No, no it’s okay, Katsuki. M’ so fuckin’ sorry.” Fingers fumbled with the strap. The pressure released from his face and the muzzle painfully pulled away from his tender, aching skin. 

Katsuki gasped for air. 

Breathing was sweet and fulfilling. Katsuki’s head spun. His arms weakly tried to push himself up from off the cold floors. 

“Katsuki, m’ s sorry,” the hag continued to blubber on above him.

Oh.

There was no League. There were no chains. The muzzle was gone. Katsuki was home?

Katsuki finally managed to haul himself into a sitting position. He felt impossibly weak, his head throbbed and spun. His mouth was dry and parched. Katsuki didn’t even know what day it was anymore. His brain felt like mush. 

The light burned his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. “Wha-” His voice hoarse voice died in his throat. Katsuki struggled to lick his dry, chapped lips. “What day is it?”

Mitsuki fretted above him. “Fuck, Katsuki, I didn’ mean to,” she whined.

He could smell something sickeningly sweet on her breath. His stomach turned over. 

Reality began to settle into a comfortable awareness around him. The sounds are less grating. The feeling of the floor under his fingers wasn't so overwhelming. Katsuki opened his eyes again. This time, he was able to see without the influx of light hurting his eyes. 

The setting sun glowed, casting the room in orange light.

A couple hours, then? Katsuki didn't think he could stand right now even if he wanted to. Pins and needles shot through his legs as the blood began to properly flow through them. 

“What day is it?” He asked again. 

Mitsuki sniffles. “Sunday,” she says mournfully.

Sunday? 

The entire weekend was spent locked away in the tiny closet? Katsuki stares at the floor. Thoughts are hard to come by. He’s too tired to even think.

Maybe tomorrow. Katsuki can think about things tomorrow. 

Eventually, Katsuki is able to force his legs to stand. The world swims in front of his eyes and his legs threaten to buckle, but he manages to hold on to that minuscule bit of strength. He doesn't want to be here any longer. He tries to take a step, but his muscles quiver and Mitsuki reaches out to steady him. 

Katsuki doesn't really listen to whatever she's saying. They begin to move, with Mitsuki bearing the brunt of his weight. As blood is pumped faster through his body, things start to slide into place. 

Mitsuki is guiding him to the kitchen.

She’s saying things like ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Please forgive me, Katsuki I forgot.’ 

The fog begins to lift even further. Thoughts shake themselves loose and memories begin to find their order. 

Katsuki blinks. 

He forgot. He wasn’t with the League anymore. Mitsuki had muzzled him, and then locked him in a closet for the entire weekend. He had forgotten where he was.

Katsuki stares at the kitchen counter. A water bottle and plate of toast is pushed in front of him. His stomach growls loudly at the sight. 

He chugs the water first. As hungry as he is, Katsuki’s mouth is a desert. Water dribbles from his chin. The entire bottle is gone in seconds and he moves onto the toast, tearing into it with renewed vigor. 

Katsuki can’t remember the last thing he ate. This toast is probably the best meal he’s had in his entire fucking life. 

Mitsuki wrings her hands across the kitchen. “‘M sorry, Katsuki. I really am.”

She’s drunk, he realizes belatedly. Katsuki can identify the stench of alcohol from across the room. That's what he was smelling before.

He doesn’t say anything to her. There are no words he could possibly string together right now that would be remotely close to polite or docile. 

Mitsuki moves closer regardless of his continued silence, hands shaking as they reach slowly for him. “Katsuki…”

She trails off uselessly, stopping in front of him. 

The world feels more solid. Less likely to abruptly cave in underneath his feet. Mitsuki is silent, staring with an unreadable expression in her crimson eyes.

He needs to leave. Katsuki will be late if he doesn’t start heading to school soon. The sky will grow darker and darker. 

Good thing I’m already packed, Katsuki thinks dryly. 

His stomach, stuffed full of water and toast, heaves unexpectedly. Katsuki stands up, but it’s too late, and he pukes on the floor. 

He ate too much too fast. It was more than his weak stomach could handle. 

Mitsuki lurches back, but vomit still splatters on her shoes. “Ugh.”

Katsuki trembles, his only meal in days staring back at him from the floor. 

Then there are hands grabbing his shirt collar and hauling him around the edge of the counter. 

“Fucking’ brat,” Mitsuki yells, yanking him along. “That’s the last time I fuckin’ help you.”

Katsuki careens forward, foot catching on the floor. Mitsuki pulls him off balance, and he’s sent crashing towards the ground. 

His head cracks against something hard and solid on the way down. 

Katsuki's head is filled with static. 

Voices are yelling above him. The floor rolls like the ocean waves. He is laying down and the floor is cold pressed against his cheek. 

God his head fucking hurts. 

There is an explosion of sound around him, hands are gripping his clothes, Katsuki is hauled up and away from the ground. 

Mitsuki’s face is close to his, overtaken with rage. She’s screaming about something but Katsuki can't make out the words. Every time she opens her mouth, the sound is distorted and murmurs through his aching head. 

His stomach heaves, and Katsuki realizes belatedly it's his hands that are pushing her away as he twists away and vomits onto the floor.

Again?

Mitsuki isn’t in his sphere anymore but its not safe. Fuck, Katsuki needs to get the fuck out of here.

His feet stumble out of the kitchen and down the hallway. The world is still rolling underneath his feet and Katsuki crashes into a wall. He manages to stay upright, using it to push off and send his body careening back towards the door.

There’s his bag. In a blur, his shoes find themselves on his feet. The door opens and Katsuki runs into the outside world, into the light and into safety.

Katsuki drifts among fog and men. 

People pass by, faces and circumstances completely unknown to him. Can he call this reality? Or is it something else entirely? 

Katsuki walks. Feets hit the ground-left and right then left and right and then left and right. Buildings slip behind him. The sun descends closer to the ground. 

Katsuki follows a path only his feet know. He could not tell you where he was, or what he was doing. Only his feet knew those things. They were not things for Katsuki’s aching mind to be aware of.

Maybe all of this was simply another dream. Katsuki knew that he had many of those. They spun themselves into being in his mind's eye, sinking into the depths after they had all played their part.

Were they here to stay? Katsuki wanted them to leave. 

He was choking on blood, his tongue writhing and twitching uselessly on the floor. Toga laughed from somewhere off to the side. The sound echoed around them. Katsuki could not breathe.

He finds himself pressed against dirty bricks. The pavement is damp and the entire alleyway smells of sewage and sweat. The sky is still burning pinks, oranges and reds. 

Katsuki pukes on the nasty cement.

Sidewalks blur underneath his knowledgeable feet. 

Wasn’t he just-

No. 

Katsuki walks onward into the growing night. UA, he repeats for the thousandth time. He was going to UA high school. Katsuki could not forget this. He knew this was important.

Katsuki stops, leaning against the cold metal of a lamppost. There were numerous posters for businesses, missing dogs and advertisements. Katsuki saw the old, worn paper displaying a missing cat. All of them pressed close to his face. 

Did his mother ever put up posters when he was kidnapped? Perhaps she deemed it useless. Or maybe she never cared at all. 

Katsuki believed it was probably the latter. 

It was because of this pause in Katsuki’s long, treacherous journey to UA high school that he noticed it.

A flower shop. The owner was bustling inside. The open sign had long since been turned off, as the hours displayed in the window made it apparent they had closed. Even so, the lights were on as the shopkeeper moved the flowers about.

This wasn’t what attracted his attention. 

Katsuki noticed the pink carnations; shriveled up and half dead in their vase, before anything else.

There they were. Pink petals limp and wrinkled, some completely brown. The stems were weak in holding the blooms high and their beautiful pink blossoms had begun to sink to the earth. 

The flowers reminded Katsuki of the blooms pressed against heavy book pages, opened only on the rare occasion. 

And there they were in the windowsill. Dying pink carnations. The flower he had plucked every petal from, leaving a trail of blood and soft petals. 

To be a villain, or to be dead. 

Katsuki wanted to laugh. But he couldn't. He would never be a villain. Even if he was somehow sliding backward, even if he was somehow becoming an even worse person, Katsuki would kill himself before that ever happened. 

Katsuki let go of the post and took a couple unsteady steps closer to the window. The flowers taunted him. Dying and dead and too far gone to ever save. Wasn’t that just the fucking icing on the cake? 

The shopkeeper approached the window, giving Katsuki a suspicious side eye before taking the bouquet from the vase and disappearing to the back of the store.

Dead and dying. Red carnations, petals falling to the pavement with the sticky droplets of blood. The failed attempt. Staring at the pavement, stories below him, and praying that he could only just fucking let go-

The shopkeeper returns, a vibrant collection of yellow roses held in his hands. He places them in the vase that once held the dying pink carnations. Then he disappears in the back and the lights turn off completely. The shop is dark. The yellow buds seem to glow in the fading sunlight.

Katsuki walked away from the flower shop. 

How many more times would he approach the edge? How many more times would he walk the fine line between living and dying? He hoped for better, he wanted a life he could call worth living, but nothing he ever did amounted to anything. 

Katsuki was no farther in life than he was a year and half ago, when he swallowed bottles full of pills and prayed for death. 

He scoffed.

This was it, wasn't it? This was all his life was ever going to be: death and dying and red petals? Katsuki hated it. He hated every fucking moment of it. How could he ever spend another day in this fucking hellish cage?

Katsuki stumbled onward. Streetlights flickered to life above him, yellow light shining upon the pavement where the sunlight already began to recede. Shadows danced away. 

Katsuki laughed maniacally.

This was the life he was given. This was the life he bled for. This was the life he fought for.

Katsuki fucking hated it. 

Chapter Text

Sometimes Katsuki thought he had Shigaraki’s quirk, Decay, with the way things seem to crumble around him. 

Katsuki was getting proficient in piecing his life back together. Since the kidnapping, he finally felt like he had been able to gain control again. And right when his life started to go his way, Katsuki went and fucked it up again. 

Katsuki was numb to the collapse. This time, he felt nothing as he stood by and watched everything crumble into dust. It was too familiar. Katsuki didn’t even register it as a loss anymore.

Here we go again.

How many more times would Katsuki build himself up, plastering over cracks and scrounging for solid ground only for it all to fall apart regardless? At this point, Katsuki was tired. It didn’t matter how hard he worked. The end result was always the same. 

He brought it up with his teacher once in middle school. 

‘That’s just life,’ they told him with a careless shrug.

Life. If this was life, if this was Katsuki’s life, he didn’t want it. 

Back then, Katsuki wondered how anyone could live to old age with all of these shitty things destroying their lives. He wanted to know how they didn’t run out of strength, picking up pieces again and again. Smothering age old cracks. Smoothing over the same uneven foundation. 

It wasn’t until UA that Katsuki finally realized that other people didn’t have to struggle against the same things he did. They didn’t have villainous personalities, or mothers who forgot them in locked closets, or villains cutting out their tongues. 

Only Katsuki’s life had these things.

Instead, they had flat tires and traffic that made them late to work and heartbreak. 

Katsuki would give anything to have a life like theirs. 

Katsuki was exhausted today. His head felt like an overinflated tire and it throbbed with every pulse of his heart. His stomach, once eating itself with hunger, felt uneasy. Katsuki was so dehydrated he doubted he could produce a single spark. 

But really, he was tired beyond the physical sense. The hunger, thirst and likely concussion took the back burner against the drowning thoughts of his mind. All they did was provide more evidence for his cursed existence. Proof that by entering Katsuki into any equation, the result became fucked up. 

Katsuki didn’t want to keep rebuilding. He was tired of his fruitless endeavors leading to nothing. The endless loop of self destruction. 

There needed to be an end. Katsuki was going to bring an end to all of it. Maybe he could be happy on the other side. 

It’s not like he was scared of hell. If anything, hell was the life he was currently living. Nothing could be worse than this tortured life. 

Katsuki had thought about suicide before. Of course he had. Back in middle school, Katsuki had tried to kill himself by swallowing a bunch of pills. It didn’t work and he ended up just getting sick all over Izuku’s bedroom floors. 

Katsuki doesn’t even remember walking to Izuku’s house, or why he felt the need to bother his then best friend. A lot of his memories from that night are foggy. He remembers regretting waking up and how sick he felt. 

(And the look on Izuku’s face when he realized what happened.)

This time, Katsuki needed things to be different. 

By the time Katsuki makes it back to UA high school, his head has become less like a balloon tethered high above his body and more like a puzzle piece falling into place. 

His brain hurts. Every neuron aches with each synapse and electric charge. Katsuki thinks his skull itself is throbbing. 

Even so, Katsuki continues to walk forward. He blindly follows the path. The lampposts illuminate the cobbled walkway. Night has long since fallen. The stars are out and any hint of the sunset has faded from the sky. 

With a clearer head, Katsuki can recognize the blanket of fatigue wrapped around his whole body. It’s like every ounce of energy was sucked from him. The only thing driving him forward is sheer force of will. 

It’s been like this too many times for comfort. It's like he’s been cursed, and every terrible thing that could happen to him does. 

When will it be over? Katsuki is exhausted. He’s starving and dehydrated to the bone, but anything he tries to put in his stomach is going to be brought right back up. He can’t get better. There's no getting better from this.

The memories from the League haunt the edges of his consciousness. Sometimes, in the corner of his eye he thinks he catches a glimpse of Toga’s yellow eyes, or the flash of a knife. Whenever he whirls around to look, there’s nothing there.

But they could be. And all of those things, all of those terrible, painful things that the League had done-how had he forgotten? How had he pushed them so far away that he couldn’t even remember?

Now he could. Now it was all Katsuki could do to keep the memories from overtaking him, to keep the scattered recollection from drowning him. 

There was no safety from this. There was nothing Katsuki could do. There was nothing he had ever done.

Toga’s smile taunts him from the backs of his eyelids. Every blink reveals blood oozing from numerous cuts and gashes on his body. A flicker of blue flame curls in the edge of his vision. 

There is no one there. Katsuki is alone. 

He can’t do this. Katsuki crosses his arms over his body, hugging his chest tightly. His eyes dart from every shadow to the barest twitch of movement. 

Heights Alliance looms in front of him, a hundred yards away. Some of the lights are on; shining from the windows. Not too many, though. It must be late. Most of his classmates had probably already gone to bed or retreated to their rooms. 

Katsuki is thankful for that, even as a pang of loneliness grips his heart. 

It’s better this way. He knows that. Of course he understands, but still. 

He’ll miss them. 

Katsuki slips inside the dorms. The light in the kitchen is on and he can hear faint voices arguing, but he can't see who it is. Before they realize Katsuki is there, he’s already going up the stairs. 

Katsuki doesn’t encounter anyone the whole way to his room. When the door is finally shut, Katsuki goes straight into the bathroom. 

Katsuki put his hands on the counter and leans closer, peering into the mirror. 

The face that stared back at him wasn’t his own. It didn’t look like Bakugou Katsuki anymore than it did Bakugou Mitsuki. This-this thing looked on the verge of death. Its skin was pale, eyes flat and tired, and even the way it held its body looked defeated. There's a dried trickle of blood running down the side of his face and a nasty wound on his temple to match. 

The past couple days blurred and ran together inside his mind. Katsuki had to keep pinching the skin on his forearm viciously. He kept repeating the same mantra in his mind: I am not with the League anymore.

Flashes of Toga’s knives or blue flames flickered to life around him. Katsuki kept his eyes darting to every shadow in case they really were here. 

They weren’t. 

Katsuki almost wished they were. Just so he could finally stop the building panic thrashing around his chest. He could deal with them and be done with it.

This was all his life had become, hadn’t it? 

Freaking out at nothing, nightmares he never remembered, and this desolate hole inside of him that every positive thing was sucked into. 

Katsuki pulled at the skin on his face. How was he supposed to be a hero when he was such a coward? How was he supposed to do anything when this is all his life ever was? Katsuki wasn’t working through anything. He felt just as lost and mixed up as he had the day he escaped. 

Was this all his life was ever going to be?

Katsuki always tried to push that particular thought far away. He didn't ignore it this time. The similarities rose unbidden within his mind. The memories rushed forward.

The first time Mitsuki hit him. The first time an officer came to their house to confront Mitsuki and when they had squirmed their way out of the accusation, Mitsuki hurting him worse than anything (this memory is foggy and filled with shattered pieces). The first suicide attempt. The Sludge Villain suffocating him and everyone watching. UA chaining him up and muzzling him like a wild animal. The League. The torture. The pieces he buried rising like the dead. 

Katsuki shudders. He is used to piecing his life together. He has strung those broken remains back into something worth living for. Katsuki is familiar with the lows life has flung his way. 

But this time Katsuki doesn’t see a point in bothering. If these terrible things keep happening to him, if people continue to hurt him, what’s the point?

His half-dead reflection stares blankly back at him. It has nothing to say. Katsuki doesn’t know if he wants it to speak about this anyway.

There wasn’t a point. Katsuki hands tremble and he takes a deep shuddering breath. He purposely avoids looking in the mirror as the words swirl around his mind. 

It’s pointless. This is the best it’s ever going to get.

Katsuki can’t even find anything wrong about that, either. He searches desperately for some form of proof, for some way to disprove the dangerous thoughts in his mind, but he can’t. There’s nothing to be found. 

Everytime he has built his life back up from nothing, it has come crumbling back down. So why bother this time? Life is only getting worse. The things he had to deal with keep getting harder and harder to come back from. 

Katsuki raises his gaze back to his reflection. 

“This is it, isn’t it?” He murmurs to the empty bathroom. 

No one says anything back to him. 

Katsuki thought he’d be nervous now that he had all but decided his death was imminent. He didn’t feel any of his usual panic rising to smother him. Katsuki didn’t feel much of anything. 

He blinked. It almost felt quiet. Peaceful. As if the knowledge that Katsuki was going to die was comforting. 

It was comforting. All of this was going to be over soon, and where Katsuki expected to be upset by it, he only found acceptance. 

How was he going to do it, though? Katsuki stepped back from the mirror and entered his bedroom. 

He could always slit his wrists, but Katsuki wasn’t sure if he could cut that deep. The alcohol bottle was empty and without that to act as a blood thinner and pain reliever, Katsuki probably wouldn’t be able to do it. 

That would be embarrassing. Katsuki would never be able to face anyone with his wrists half-way slit. It’s not like he would be able to hide it, either.

Katsuki didn’t have a gun so that option was automatically out the window. He could do what he did last time and try for an overdose. Katsuki didn’t remember how many pills he swallowed last time. But as long as he swallows enough bottles it has to be fatal, right?

Katsuki paced his room, scanning around frantically. Katsuki could always hang himself. He winced automatically. No, he’s heard enough horror stories about those attempts. 

Katsuki could always jump off the roof, but the roof access door was locked to students. If he blasted up there, his classmates would probably hear it and come after him. Besides, UA’s security system would go off if he was up there without being granted access though the door. Who knows if they had robots to shoot him like an intruder. Not the way he'd want to go, anyhow. 

So, pills it was then. There was no better method he had available to him. 

Katsuki glances at his desk. He should write a note, right? That’s what people normally do before they kill themselves. 

Katsuki walks over, plopping down in his chair. He pulls out a piece of paper and a pen before staring down at the empty paper blankly. What should he say?

‘I’m sorry I killed myself.’ Katsuki chewed on his lip.

Well, he probably should start with something like that. He set the tip of the pen to the paper and began to write a vague introduction.

‘To whoever finds this,’ Fuck that already sounded awful. Katsuki groaned, tossing the pen on the desk.

He just had to make it super simple and to the point. There was no sense in dragging this out. Katsuki wasn’t going to sound like someone he wasn’t.

Instead he wrote this:

Hey,

I’m sorry for killing myself. I’m sorry for being a shitty person, too. I don’t want to put all of this bullshit on you, but I can’t do this anymore. I wouldn’t be a fucking hero anyway. Thanks for trying.

-Bakugou Katsuki

Katsuki set the pen down and read it again. 

If there was a prize for worst suicide note, this one would probably win. Katsuki doesn’t feel like re-writing this over and over until it's perfect. He doesn’t care that much.

Instead he folds the paper up, leaving it on his desk. He switches the desk light off and pushes the chair in. It’s time. No use fucking around.

Katsuki walks back into the bathroom. He keeps his pills behind the mirror, in the little medicine cabinet. When he opens it, the shelves of pill bottles stare back at him.

Which ones should he take? The ibuprofen, the aspirin, or the muscle relaxers? Katsuki took them all out, one by one. He grabs the glass next, filling it with water from the sink.

He stares at the medicine bottles innocently gathered on the counter. There was the bottle he stole from Mitsuki’s bathroom, her medication for her ‘anxiety’. Katsuki was told never to touch it, because it fucked with the nuances of his quirk. 

He brought it here with him when they moved into the dorms. Just in case, his mind whispered to him. He never thought he’d actually take them.

Katsuki tipped the bottle into his hand and felt the weight of the pills. This was it. After this, Katsuki couldn’t ever go back. It was do or die. 

He put them on the counter. It was too many to take at once, so he split them into small, manageable piles.

For a moment, he just stares at them. Then he can't take the tension any longer.

Katsuki reaches for the first mound of pills desperately, shoving them into his mouth and chugging water to wash them away before the bitter taste dissolves on his tongue. He can feel them grating against his esophagus when he swallows. 

Katsuki quickly grabs another handful, pushing them into his mouth. Katsuki has another batch of pills in hand before he’s downed the second. 

He chokes and the pills in his hand overflow. They clatter on the floor, scattering across the tiles. He tips his hand, and the remaining handful of chalky pills fall into his mouth. Katsuki reaches for the water wildly, swallowing mouthful after mouthful. The pills swirl inside his mouth, knocking against his tongue. He refuses to gag, instead breathing sharply through his nose.

Katsuki feels the pills slip down his throat, gradually making their way to his stomach.

He kneels, finger fumbling for the pills that fell on the floor. He collects them, blowing off the dust or dirt that may have collected on them. One by one, they make their way back to the table. Another mouthful. More frantic gulps of water.

Katsuki breathes out shakily. 

There’s another pile of pills in his hand. Katsuki grimaces, breathing forcefully. In and out. In and out. In and out. Katsuki flings them into his mouth, and begins to chug the water in his other hand. 

More and more and more.

Another mouthful. Katsuki sobs before gulping down more water.

The slurry of disintegrating pills and water slosh around his stomach. Katsuki sobs again, the harsh movement jostling the tentative peace between his mind and stomach. All of his muscles tense as saliva pools on his tongue. 

He can’t throw up, not with the pills sloshing around his stomach. Katsuki needs them. He needs to die.

The inherent nausea dissipates. Katsuki relaxes, breathing deeply. 

He’s okay now. Katsuki is okay. Everything is going to be okay.

His head pounds from all the movement, but Katsuki doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. All of this pain is finally going away.

He smiles, almost, just at the thought of death. Maybe that makes him crazy. Katsuki probably already is. Normal people don’t kill themselves. 

But then again, normal people aren’t forgotten in locked closets. 

Katsuki stumbles out of the bathroom. 

What now? He thought madly. What am I supposed to do to pass the time?

Katsuki looked at the letter on his desk. On an impulse, he rushed over, picked up the pen, and scribbled one last thing below his signed name. Satisfied, he set the pen down for the last time. 

Now it was perfect. 

Katsuki went over to the balcony, throwing the doors open and letting in the night breeze. From his view up here, Katsuki could see the path winding into the woods. In the distance, the buildings from training ground Beta loomed. 

But between here and there, Katsuki listened to the sounds of the chirping bugs and rustling leaves. It soothed the ache in his mind. 

In this small moment, Katsuki felt at peace. Death may be a couple hours away, but the night was young, and Katsuki was finally free. He smiled, almost, once again. He couldn’t quite manage that yet.

Katsuki let his aching legs fold underneath him. He leaned against the fencing surrounding the balcony, peering up to the sky. The cement was cool under his fingers.

The night was dark, no moon in sight. Katsuki almost wished there was, but he wouldn’t have been able to see the stars in their pure glory. They shone from so far away, twinkling against the blanket of darkness. 

If an afterlife did exist, and Katsuki was to find himself there, he hoped it would be among the stars. Maybe it was a childish wish, but Katsuki felt particularly young tonight and there was nothing left for him to lose. 

There was no one around to hear these things, anyway.

Katsuki sighed wistfully. He started to feel a bit odd, like things were shifting slightly to the left. The drugs must be kicking in. 

He wished he could remember the details of his last dabble with pills. He wanted to know what to expect beyond the bouts of endless puking. It didn’t matter, but he wanted to know anyway. Knowledge was soothing.

Time was getting funny. 

Katsuki didn’t know how long he sat there, feeling the soft wind in his hair and staring at the stars, when the ground began to feel like it was sucking him inside it. 

His head felt so light, and the pressuring ache from before was gone. His body felt like it weighed as much as the world. He was glued to the floor as his mind soared through the skies. 

Katsuki’s stomach hurt, and he wrapped his arms around it. 

Things were moving along slower than he expected. Drugs took a bit to take effect and yet Katsuki wasn’t sure how long it would be until his death. An hour, maybe? A couple?

Katsuki prayed that it would be quick. He didn’t deserve that, practically being a villain and all. He didn’t want to be here any longer than he had too. 

Katsuki picked at the skin around his fingernails. It was almost a bit boring, waiting for death to suddenly sneak up and claim him. 

It was peaceful here. From his position, Katsuki felt safe and unseen. Tucked away in his tiny corner of the world. No one would find him and no one could see him. He felt as safe as he could. 

Nothing was ever meant to last, Katsuki thought bitterly. It was fucking ironic that the happiest Katsuki had felt in weeks, the most peaceful and safe, were the moments after he condemned himself to die. 

Maybe it was only the promise of death that left Katsuki wrapped in this warm embrace. No one else would ever hurt him again. There wasn’t enough time for that. And likewise, everyone was safe from him. 

Katsuki grew tired of staring at the stars. He pushed his heavy body up off the ground. The sky whirled like it was being flung around. The sharp scent of hand sanitizer shot up his nose. He blinked rapidly, blindly reaching out to steady himself on the wall.

Whoa.

Everything slowly evened out, finding a balance. Katsuki lifted his weighted legs and each step sent him unsteadily forward. It felt like eons before he finally reached his bed. The mattress was soft and Katsuki sunk into it gratefully. 

When was the last time he slept on a bed? Thursday night? It seemed so long ago. Katsuki frowned, letting his fingers trace patterns on the sheets. He didn’t bother pulling the covers over his body. 

He felt colder by the minute, but the action seemed exhausting. Katsuki closed his eyes. 

It was just like falling asleep. Like dreaming. There wasn’t a defining moment where Katsuki stepped off a ledge. It just happened. 

There was knocking. A pounding on a door that sounded relentless. 

Was he in hell already? Katsuki opened his eyes. 

The ceiling stared back at him. Disappointment flooded through his gut. 

Shit.  

Why was he awake? Katsuki struggled to remember why he would be. He felt worse than before- his body was fighting between violent shivers that left every muscle trembling and a persistent dizziness that made him feel woozy. Closing his eyes again felt like a sure-fire way to induce those rounds of puking. 

Katsuki frowned. Why was he still here?

A door opened. His door. To his fucking room. 

Katsuki blinks, trying to focus on the imposing figure moving towards him. 

No one should know about this. Katsuki can’t tell them. They can’t know.

The smell of pine and sandalwood floods his nostrils. His body relaxes immediately. 

“Kacchan? What’s wrong?” Izuku asks softly. “Are you okay?”

Katsuki groans. Whatever words he had been trying to say die on his tongue. 

A hand presses against his forehead. Izuku mumbles a string of curses. 

“You’re bleeding,” he accuses.

“Mmm.” 

Katsuki can see Izuku now, kneeling beside him. His green eyes are alight with worry. Those cute lips are drawn downwards in a frown. There’s something else. Katsuki can’t recall the name for it.

“Are you-” Izuku shakes his head softly, cutting himself off. He stands up and walks away, flicking the lightswitch on.

Light pierces his eyes, and Katsuki shuts them quickly. The sudden burst of light caused the pain throbbing his temples to return. He throws an arm over his eyes for extra protection. Even with his eyes closed, the light is painful. 

“Sorry. It was pretty dark in here,” Izuku whispers. There’s a pause, and then, “Your head is bleeding. Can I check it out?”

“M’ fine.” Katsuki finally manages to say. His stomach hurts alongside his head. Katsuki forgot about the blood. Probably from when his head slammed into the table earlier. 

“You don’t look fine.” 

Katsuki imagines Izuku twisting his hands nervously when he says this. 

“I will be,” Katsuki promises. 

He will. After he falls asleep and never wakes up.

Still, Izuku tuts and Katsuki listens to the soft sound of fingers tapping the bed frame as Izuku mulls this over. 

“Why are ‘ou here?” There’s no reason for Izuku to be in his room at this time of night. 

“We’re worried about you. No one saw you return so I came to make sure you were okay.” 

Katsuki is about to ask who was worried, when Izuku continues.

“You’re hurt. Can you lower your arm so I can see your face?”

Katsuki doesn’t want to, but he knows Izuku will never leave until he does. 

Izuku sucks in a breath when his arm returns to his side. Katsuki risks opening his eyes but quickly shuts them when the light causes another sharp pain through his head. There’s a rustling noise and then the light is turned off. 

Katsuki opens his eyes for good this time. 

Izuku is turning on the desk lamp. Katsuki jolts. “‘Zuku,” he calls desperately. 

Izuku turns, eyes brimming with concern. He quickly returns to Katsuki’s side, which he's eternally grateful for. Katsuki relaxes. 

“I’m here,” Izuku assures him. 

“‘Kay.” 

Izuku reaches out gently, touching his cheekbone. “Your pupils are different sizes. Do you have a concussion?”

Katsuki blinks dumbly back at him. Izuku looks horrified. 

“I was wondering why the light was bothering you. Shit, this is bad, Kat. This is really bad. You need to go to Recovery Girl. Oh god. We need to tell Aizawa,” Izuku mutters, not stopping for a single breath. His green eyes are blown wide. 

Katsuki tries to shake his head. Izuku doesn’t notice, diving further into his rabbit hole. 

“‘Zuku, no.” 

Izuku’s eyes darted back to his own. “Kacchan, I’m serious. This-” he waves his arms around. “-is serious. I should’ve said something before you left this weekend. I was so stupid-”

He can’t. Fuck if he goes to Recovery Girl for this they’ll find out about the pills and Katsuki would never live it down. Even now, his stomach feels sick and Katsuki isn’t sure if its from the copious amounts of pills he’s ingested or anxiety. 

“Please,” he begs. “I’ll go tomorrow.”

If anything, Izuku looks more worried now. “Kacchan, no. You can’t-this is bad. I mean, it was bad before, but I just-” 

He cuts himself off this time. 

“‘Zuku,” he tries again. 

When Izuku lifts his head, there are tears glimmering in his eyes. Katsuki feels like the worst person alive. 

“Kacchan, you need help. You look awful right now. I’m not going to stand by and fucking wait for your ‘okay’ because its never going to come. You need help. Adult help.”

Izuku wipes the tears away and stands up. For a moment, Katsuki can see the hero Deku standing before him. The future will be good to him.

“I can’t do this,” Katsuki murmurs quietly. 

Izuku reaches out, an arm going around Katsuki as he attempts to lift his body up. Katsuki feels so fucking helpless. He debates digging his heels in and resisting, but Izuku is strong and Katsuki is up in a sitting position in no time. 

Izuku huffs. “You can. I’ll be here for you.”

Everything is going wrong. Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t go to Recovery Girl. He can’t speak with Aizawa. He can’t do this. 

They’ll know. They’ll know everything and Katsuki never wanted to be here for that moment. He didn’t want to tell them shit. 

Katsuki’s hands are quivering as Izuku wrangles him out of the bed. His whole body feels weak. Katsuki’s head threatens to drop onto his chest with the amount of effort it takes to hold it up. 

Izuku takes the prolonged silence as something else. “You can hate me all you want, but you need to get out of there, Kacchan. I’m not going to stand by anymore.”

Izuku wraps his arm around Katsuki’s midsection. His legs are dangling off the bed. The more Izuku moves him around, the more woozy he feels. Shivers run down his spine and Katsuki closes his eyes.  

He breathes purposefully through his nose. 

“Okay, I’m going to lift you up-”

There’s a sudden jerk and Katsuki promptly blacks out.

When he opens his eyes, Katsuki is feeling definitively worse. He’s not in his room anymore, but his body is being set carefully on something soft. The room isn’t blinding white, so Katuski isn’t in the infirmary just yet. 

“Kacchan?” Izuku questions. 

Katsuki squints, and Izuku is standing over him, brow furrowed. “Hmm?”

“Oh thank god.” Izuku sighs with relief.

Katsuki tilts his head, catching a flash of red hair. “Where am I?” 

“The couch. I couldn’t bring you all the way.” 

Kirishima emerges next to Izuku, chewing on his lip nervously. He manages a small smile. “Hey man.”

Katsuki frowns. “Wha’?”

Things are becoming increasingly harder to follow. Iida comes out of nowhere and Katsuki blinks to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Shouldn’t they all be in bed? Why are his classmates down here?

“Iida, go get Aizawa, okay?”

“Midoriya-”

“I think he has a concussion.”

Iida saluted quickly. “Of course, my apologies. Watch over our classmate.”

Iida disappears, marching out of his line of sight. The door opens and closes.

Katsuki shuts his eyes but the spinning motion only gets worse. He swallows heavily as saliva pools in his mouth. God, just thinking about the pills stuffed inside his stomach makes him want to heave.

“Kat,” the fingers tap his cheek. Katsuki struggles to focus. “Kat, c’mon don’t fall asleep.”

“Oh shit,” Kirishima sounds freaked out. Katsuki can’t really see him anymore. Everything is still so blurry and his head fucking hurts. “He’s gonna be okay, right?”

“Yeah, it's just a concussion. He should be fine. Recovery Girl will heal him.” Izuku says firmly. Katsuki can see the worry in his eyes. 

Suddenly, his stomach jerks and Katsuki gags. Bile and half disgusted pills spill over his tongue, splashing over him and onto the floor. Fucking disgusting. 

“Oh god,” Kirishima sounds far away.

Izuku is wincing, leaning backward but still resting a comforting hand on Katsuki’s back. 

“It’s okay, Kat. Get it all out,” he murmurs.

Katsuki pukes again. 

Then Izuku curses. “Fuck. Katsuki-”

“What’s wrong?” Kirishima's voice is shaky.

Everything is so fucking fuzzy right now. Katsuki’s eyes begin to slip shut. His body is swaying.

Someone is grabbing his face, someone is hitting him until his eyes are forced open. He can’t focus clearly, but the blur of green tells him it's Izuku right in front of him. 

“What did you take? Kat, what the fuck did you take?”

“Midoriya, what are you talking about?” A frightened voice asks. 

Katsuki finally focuses on the pair in front of him. Kirishima is tugging his hair, eyes wide and panicked. Izuku looks terrified, green eyes darting frantically over Katsuki.

Oh. Katsuki isn’t supposed to be here right now.

“What are you-” Izuku shakes his head. Katsuki must’ve said some of that out loud. “Katsuki, please, what did you take?”

Katsuki scrunches up his nose. He feels fucking awful right now. His body feels oddly cold and there’s a thin sheen of sweat beading on his forehead. Honestly, Katsuki feels like he could pass out again. 

“Uh…” Words are not coming easily right now. 

“Katsuki. ”

“I dunno,” Katsuki lies. He’s not supposed to tell them. He knows that much.

“Kirishima, can you run up to his room and bring any empty pill bottles?” Izuku orders quickly.

Katsuki tries to shake his head, but the effort is lost as his head spins. 

“No.”

They ignore him. Kirishima runs off. 

Katsuki slumps into the couch. Fuck, his body is heavy. Was it always like this?

“You promised. You fucking promised-” Izuku’s voice cracks. 

“M’ sorry.” Katsuki mumbles uselessly. 

“You always are,” Izuku says bitterly. “Don’t die, Kat. Please, just hang on. I can’t do this without you.”

Katsuki groans, another round of pain stabbing his stomach. Who knew dying was going to be so fucking painful? Breathing is hard, too. Katsuki keeps breathing more and more, and when will even that not be enough?

“Shh,” Izuku tries to soothe him. There's strangled tone to his voice as Izuku holds back tears. Hands run up and down his arms. It does feel nice. “It’s okay, Kat. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I can’t do this,” Katsuki tells him. “I-I don’t wanna be alive.”

Izuku is shaking him. Katsuki wants to tell him to stop, but he can’t find any more energy to talk right now. 

Oh. Izuku is crying. 

“Please don’t leave me, Kat. I love you. I love you so much. Please don’t die.”

“M’ sorry.” Katsuki says. 

There’s nothing left to say. 

Katsuki closes his eyes. 

When he opens them, someone is crashing into the kitchen. People are talking loudly over him. Katsuki can’t make out any of the words. 

“-an you hear me?”

The carpet is dirty. Katsuki is looking directly at his vomit. It’s nothing more than bile with a mixture of pills. Not nearly enough. 

He feels a sick sense of happiness when he realizes he didn’t puke up many pills. Maybe there was still a chance.

“Bakugou-” 

A hand is shaking his shoulder firmly. The voice is deep, and not one that he recognizes as Izuku or Kirishima. Katsuki forces himself to look up.

Aizawa. His dark hair is pulled back in a bun. His eyes are focused, taking on that same intense gleam when he switches into hero mode. 

At least, that’s what Katsuki calls it. It sounds stupid now. Katsuki kinda regrets even thinking about it. 

“-hear me?”

Right. Katsuki blinks. They’re talking to him. 

“Wha’?” The word is mangled between his numb lips. Katsuki is glad he’s managed to talk at all. 

Aizawa’s brow creases. His mouth begins to move again but this time, Katsuki has no idea what he’s saying. The words all clash together and if Katsuki wasn’t this fucked up, he would have been sure his sensei was speaking a different language entirely. 

It strikes him then. Aizawa’s presence isn’t good. They’ll know. They’ll all know, now. Izuku won’t hold back for him. 

Katsuki tries to sit up abruptly. He must manage some form of movement because the world flips on its axis, and the smell of saline fills his nose as his vision blacks out. A high pitched tone screams in his ear. 

Katsuki blinks wildly, but it does nothing to clear the darkness shrouding his eyes. 

Hands are touching him, steadying his swaying body. Katsuki allows them to guide him somewhere, but he slips away again before he ever makes it to the destination.

When Katsuki can finally see again, he is bundled up in someone’s arms. His limbs are jostled by quick movements, and Katsuki feels his stomach churning at the motion. He wants to warn them, whoever is holding him close, but he can’t find the words. 

Instead, he gags, and vomit is spilling from his mouth. The angle is wrong, and Katsuki chokes. His body is moving again, twisting this time. His feet touch a solid surface, and he continues to empty his stomach onto the ground. 

He feels disgusting. He feels cold and not entirely present. People are moving, someone is crying and Katsuki coughs against the sharp burn of stomach acid in his throat. 

Nothing makes sense. 

Katsuki wishes he were dead. He just wants to fall asleep. He doesn’t want to be here. 

His eyes roll in their sockets.

What is life, but an interlude to nothing? How can the world shift into focus one unassuming day and randomly dissolve another? Why is anyone alive?

Katsuki thought about all of these things on a loop. Every shower, every run, every waking moment these thoughts plagued him. He could never figure them out. The answers he sought weren’t meant to be found by mortal men. 

Katsuki despised them for it.

But who were they? On who could Katsuki cast the blame? Gods? A mythical higher power? Or was it only this aching, loneliness that never quite left? 

Katsuki hated himself. He hated that he was made this way, with only bitter anger holding it back. 

Life was a fucking joke. What is the point of being alive with all of this shit happening? Katsuki hated people. He hated the world. But most of all, he hated himself.

No one else had these problems. Only him. Only Bakugou fucking Katsuki. 

Fuck living. Fuck life. Fuck it all. 

Katsuki would burn. 

Everything is white. Katsuki thinks he’s dead. 

He smiles.

Katsuki can’t remember the last time he smiled. 

He closes his eyes and falls into the eternal night. 

To be or not to be; wasn’t that the fucking question?

Chapter Text

When Katsuki wakes up, it’s to the feeling of crushing disappointment and overwhelmingly white walls. 

The first thought that runs through his mind is this:

It didn’t work.

And then that is the only thing he can think of. 

It didn’t work. It didn’t work. It didn’t fucking work.  

Katsuki basks in his unfortunate survival as everything begins to shift back into awareness. 

There are a mixture of indiscernible voices muttering somewhere nearby. His stomach aches with emptiness, nausea and hunger. His body feels wrong. 

Katsuki hates this. He failed. Katsuki has failed and now he’s stuck here. Caged by these brittle bones and mounds of flesh, trapped in this broken body until death eventually crawls around to steal him in his slumber.

It doesn’t matter how off Katsuki is feeling. It doesn’t matter that this body does not feel like his own anymore. It does not matter that his muscles feel weak and tremble when he tries to use them. 

Katsuki lays there and laments his survival. 

Someone clears their throat, and Katsuki finds no desire inside him to simply lift his head and look. He continues to stare at the ceiling. 

There must be a conversation to be had here. Katsuki doesn’t want to speak. He has no urge to face what he has done. It is bad enough that he is alive. 

Talking about it feels like a punishment. Living is consequence enough. 

Katsuki closes his eyes again. 

“Bakugou,” a deep voice splits through the melody of muttering. The other voices do not stop. They continue in the background as Aizawa calls him again. 

“Bakugou, I know you’re awake.”

Katsuki sighs sharply through his nose. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. For once in his miserable life, he remains silent. 

Aizawa doesn’t say anything for a little while. Katsuki listens as the chair creaks. There’s a rustling of fabric as Aizawa shifts around. 

Katsuki hopes he doesn't come any closer. 

“Okay, if you don’t want to talk right now that’s fine.”

Good. Let him leave then. 

“There’s some things we need to discuss. It can wait until later-”

“Can you leave?” 

His voice is nothing more than a harsh whisper. It rubs wrong against his dry throat and Katsuki swallows painfully. 

There’s a pause, and the sound of shoes sliding across the tiled floor. 

“I’m sorry, kid. You can’t be alone right now. Someone has to keep an eye on you for the next 72 hours.”

Right. Because Katsuki is a danger to himself. 

Katsuki has nothing left. There’s no dignity, no pride, no anger. Katsuki is a hollow shell of flesh and bone. 

Tears well in his eyes and Katsuki takes a shuddering breath. 

He has never wanted to die more than he has at this moment. The worst part? There’s nothing Katsuki can do about it. He’s stuck here. Forever. Until the end of his days. 

The weight of the world crashes over him. Katsuki cries silently. He rolls away from where Aizawa is sitting, facing the opposing wall. 

“Okay,” he says, defeated.

“It’ll get better, kid,” Aizawa promises him.

It won’t, Katsuki wants to tell him. It has always been this way. There’s no escape from this. Not anymore. 

Instead, Katsuki continues to cry and mourn the death he should’ve had. 

When Katsuki wakes up again, his eyelashes are crusted with salt. He doesn’t find even a lick of shame or embarrassment within him. The same disappointment of being alive wraps him up instead. 

Katsuki turns his head. Aizawa is still there, grading papers quietly. The man looks up and Katsuki realizes for the first time that they are the only two people in the room. The murmuring of voices is still present in the background, quiet enough that he can’t make out what they’re saying but loud enough to still be heard. It sounds like a radio caught between two frequencies. 

Katsuki does not breathe a word of this to the man sitting at his bedside. 

When the muttering changes to the howling of wolves, Katsuki gives up and resigns himself to this tortured melody. 

What’s one more thing going wrong with his life?

“Hey, kid.” 

Katsuki sighs deeply. He’s still tired. There’s a lack of anything inside him. Katsuki barely has the energy to look at his teacher. 

“What.” His own voice is flat. 

“Just saying hello.”

Katsuki doesn’t bother responding. 

“Would you like some water? Recovery Girl has you on a saline drip, but you were pretty dehydrated.” 

Katsuki finally notices the catheter in his arm, and the line running up to the nearly empty bag hanging above his bedside. He’s still thirsty. 

“No,” he says petulantly.

“Okay.” Aizawa inhales deeply, and then, “What happened, kid?”

Katsuki returns his gaze to the ceiling. “Don’t you already know?” 

There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but mostly it falls flat.

“Midoriya mentioned some things,” Aizawa admits, “but I want to hear it from you.”

Katsuki hums non-committedly.

“You had a pretty serious concussion,” Aizawa begins slowly. 

Katsuki doesn’t quite remember. The memories of hitting his head are murky and dark. He recalls a vague moment of impact, and then distorted flashes of wandering around streets as dusk fell. 

“Bakugou?”

Katsuki remembers the League. He shuts his eyes. He remembers- how could he have ever forgotten something like that? 

He curls his hands into tight fists and forces himself to breathe evenly. 

God, they had cut out his own tongue with scissors. Blunt scissors. He could almost feel the way the muscles had snapped and broken under the dull blades, severing slowly as blood pooled and spilled from his mouth. 

“Katsuki.”

Katsuki jolts. Aizawa’s hand is near his arm, and he snatches it away quickly. Somehow, his breath has gone and now he erratically struggles to find it again. 

“It’s okay kid,” Aizawa speaks calmly. “I won’t touch you.”

Aizawa waits, speaking in low and soothing tones. He doesn’t try to figure out what the man is saying. Katsuki is focused on breathing, on pushing away those bloody memories once again. 

Eventually, Katsuki finds his breath and Aizawa stops talking. They sit in silence for a little bit. Katsuki doesn’t try to offer an explanation and for now, Aiawa doesn’t seem intent on asking for one. 

The door opens, and Recovery Girl walks inside.

For once, the elderly lady looks her age. Each step seems tired as she hobbles over to his bedside. The wrinkles on her face seem deeper than usual. 

Katsuki wishes she hadn’t healed him. What a waste. To be this exhausted, to go through all that effort just for him? Katsuki wants to laugh. She really shouldn’t have bothered.

“You gave us quite a scare, young man.”

Her usual stern voice is absent of any bite. 

They’re treating him differently. Both of them are walking on eggshells around him. They speak in soft tones and orbit him cautiously like Katsuki is some injured, wild animal. 

Katsuki doesn’t tell them off. He feels fragile. Maybe they are right to carefully edge around him like this. He thinks he is one wrong thing away from cracking apart completely. 

Or maybe Katsuki is already shattered. 

“You almost didn’t make it,” Recovery Girl continues bluntly.

“Why did you bother?” Katsuki asks before he can stop himself. 

Aizawa reels back a bit, a flash of hurt and shock on his face before it smoothes over into a blank mask. Recovery Girl just looks sad. She doesn’t hit him with the cane, as he expected. 

“It will get better,” She says confidently, “with time.”

Katsuki sneers darkly. With as much conviction as he can muster, he says, “I was born this way.”

He turns away from them before he can gauge their reactions.

Coward.

“I know it seems that way-” Aizawa starts.

“Don’t bother.” Katsuki cuts them off. He balls his hands into fists and stares at the cream colored blanket draped over his body. “Say what you were going to say.”

Recovery Girl hums. “Hound Dog will be stopping by later on to speak with you. Erasurehead has spoken with you about the counseling services UA provides before, hasn't he?”

“I have,” Aizawa confirms when it becomes apparent Katsuki isn’t going to respond.

“Well then.” Her cane taps on the floor. “When you were brought in last night, you showed signs of a concussion. During my examination, I found that you were malnourished and dehydrated. There were also the marks on your face-”

The muzzle.  

“-and the medication in your system. Ambien is contraindicated with nitroglycerin. Which means those two medications do not mix well. As your quirk utilizes a nitroglycerin-like substance-”

Katsuki tunes her out. He knows all of this. 

Instead, Katsuki focuses on the woven threads of the blanket. He begins to count them, thumbing the fabric between two fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six.

The wolves are still howling sometimes. Katsuki knows they’re not real. The sounds disturb him regardless. 

Seven, eight, nine, ten.

Katsuki doesn’t feel like himself. His body feels like someone else’s. Reality is wavering around him. Idly, Katsuki contemplates his existence. 

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Maybe he was already dead.

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three.

He shouldn’t have survived.

Thirty, thirty-one.

“Katsuki.”

He flinches, the counting disrupted. 

Recovery Girl and Aizawa are watching him with an unknown expression. 

“What?”

“Hound Dog will stop by in a couple hours.” Recovery Girl says, turning to Aizawa and effectively shutting Katsuki out.

He watches them blandly. What was the point of drawing him into their conversation just to shove him back out? 

What’s the point of anything?

“I’ll be leaving now,” Recovery Girl tells him, tapping the bedframe with her cane. She watches him for a moment before walking to the door. Before she disappears from view, she pauses in the doorway and turns back to him. “I’m really happy you’re still here with us, Katsuki.”

They keep using his given name as if Katsuki had offered permission to do so. However, Katsuki doesn’t have the energy to tell them off. He remains quiet. 

Recovery Girl leaves them alone. The door closes gently behind her.

It’s later on that Aizawa seems intent on breaching the subject with him again. 

Katsuki has been in and out of sleep. Each time he wakes up, Aizawa is still there by his side. The hand on the clock only moves a little each time. With nothing better to do and exhaustion tugging him down, he continues to drift in and out. 

Katsuki does not dream. 

It’s after his third time waking up from one of these brief intermissions of consciousness that his sensei speaks. 

“Bakugou.”

Ah, back to his surname, then. Katsuki wonders if they bothered to tell his mother. If they did, she probably lied and told them how fucking deranged Katsuki was. Maybe they even believed her. 

“Kid,” Aizawa tries again.

Katsuki turns his head lazily. 

Aizawa has dark rings underneath his eyes. This time, the man is leaning forward, hands steepled and propped under his chin. He’s a bit haggard looking, scruffier than usual. 

Katsuki says nothing to him. Normally, this level of disrespect would have earned him a tongue lashing at least. Today Aizawa doesn’t seem to mind. He continues to brush it off as if it does not bother him. 

Aizawa forges onward. Katsuki already hates the words that have yet to fall out of the man’s mouth.

“We need to talk about it,” he finishes lamely. 

“No we don’t.” 

Aizawa closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, there is a haunted look that throws Katsuki off. 

For the first time since he woke up in the infirmary, Katsuki feels that roiling pit of anxiety begin to crack open again. This is not a conversation he ever wants to have. 

“We need to, kid. What you did-”

“No.” Katsuki turns away. “ Don’t.”

“We can’t hold this off any longer.” 

Katsuki’s nostrils flare, and he pinches the bridge of his nose as traitorous tears begin to well up. 

“I can call Recovery Girl back in if you’d like to speak with her,” his sensei offers. This is an even worse option. “You need to have this talk with someone. It doesn’t have to be me. Hound Dog should be stopping by in about an hour if you’d rather talk with him.”

Three options on the table, and Katsuki hates all of them. He just wants to curl up and fucking die.

But that’s not an option. Katsuki will probably never have that option again. They’ll always be watching and waiting for him to step out of line. Next time they’ll probably ban him from being a pro hero if they aren’t going to do that already.

After all, UA can’t have someone who’s fucked up mentally in the field. 

Even as he thinks this, Katsuki is sure they wouldn’t, but UA did muzzle and restrain him in front of thousands. So, was it too much of a stretch to assume they’d bend the rules for him in this case? They already thought so little of him. 

“Fine.” Katsuki turns back to face the man. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Okay.” Aizawa leans back in the plastic hospital chair, crossing his arms over his chest before he uncrosses them and sets them down in his lap. 

He opens his mouth, but Katsuki beats him to the punch. 

“What did Izuku tell you?”

Aizawa looks mildly surprised by the use of Izuku’s name. Katsuki wants to roll his eyes, but now is not the time. He needs to know.

“Midoriya told me this wasn’t your first attempt-”

Katsuki fights back a flinch on the word ‘attempt’. 

“-He also told me a bit about your mother.”

At the mention of the hag, Katsuki shifts uncomfortably. He knew it was coming. He understood that Izuku wouldn’t have neglected to tell their sensei, probably in vivid detail, his mother’s punishments. 

“It’s probably not as bad as he made it out to be,” Katsuki deflects easily. 

Aizawa watches him for a moment. “Oh?”

He feels a bit wrong-footed. Katsuki expected more immediate denial from the man. Instead, Aizawa is mostly quiet, seemingly waiting for Katsuki’s response.

“Well, he doesn’t like her.” Katsuki explains. “Never has.”

Aizawa merely hums. 

Katsuki begins to pick at the skin around his nails again. This time, he shifts his gaze down. The catheter in the crook of his arm itches. The IV had finished sometime ago, and Recovery Girl had changed it out for a fresh one.

“It’s my fault, okay?” The words burst out of him in his rush to make Aizawa understand.

At these words, the man stiffens. “How is it your fault?”

Katsuki breathes in and out. “You know how I am,” he mutters. “She’s just trying to help me.”

“How is she trying to help you?”

“Does it matter?” 

“Yes. I think it matters very much.”

Katsuki scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Bakugou, your mother is an adult. She can handle herself. It’s not your fault.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes. Aizawa just didn’t understand. “Whatever.”

“You’re not going back to that house. I’ve gained emergency custody.” 

Katsuki freezes. For a moment, the world stops spinning on its axis. 

“What?” He chokes out.

“The way your mother treats you is wrong, kid. I know you don’t understand that now but eventually, I hope that you will. You deserve more.”

No. They don’t understand. Katsuki refuses to believe any of the drivel coming from Aizawa’s mouth.

“B-but I’m a bad kid. She’s not just hurting me for shits and giggles. I’m fucking up and-and she’s just punishing me. She’s not a bad person.”

Aizawa seems resigned to continue spitting out this fucking nonsense.

“There are punishments, and there’s abuse. Your mother has crossed that line. Repeatedly, from the sound of it. You don’t deserve these punishments and you never did.”

This doesn’t make sense. Katsuki’s brain stops right in its tracks. The words coming out of Aizawa’s mouth aren’t the language he speaks. They’re familiar, but Katsuki doesn’t understand. 

“She’s not abusive, okay? I-I’m not some fucking victim.”

“I never said you were a victim, kid.” 

Katsuki reaches up, tugging hopelessly on his hair. “She’s not a bad person. I’m just a bad kid, okay? I-I fucked up, and she’s just trying to fix me. She’s just helping me become a good person.”

“You’re not a bad person, Katsuki. I understand that she’s been telling you these things-”

“No! You don’t get it.”

“Katsuki-”

Katsuki cuts him off desperately. “Why don’t you understand? W-what are you going to fucking do to her? It’s not her fault. She’s not bad. She’s not-”

“Kid, breathe.”

Katsuki shakes his head vigorously. Tears are building up in his eyes and he frantically heaves in a breath as they begin to slip down his face. “You don’t get it, okay? It’s my fault, not hers.”

“Katsuki, just take a minute, okay kid?” Aizawa says, brows creasing as he looks at him like- like that. 

Aizawa doesn’t make a move to reach out and touch him. The man simply sits there, calm and stoic. Katsuki struggles to reign in the sobs threatening to wrack his chest. 

More breaths shudder in and out of his lungs. A choked cry breaks from the wall against his will, and Katsuki begins to crumble. He’s dissolving into a tearful, broken mess.

Aizawa begins to talk soothingly in the background. 

“I never told you, but I have a cat named Jelly. I found her during one of my patrols many years ago-”

Katsuki quickly loses track of the words, instead focusing on the drone of his sensei’s voice. 

He doesn’t know how long it takes for the sobs to die away. Air returns to his lungs, and although some breaths hitch, the tears leaking from his eyes begin to slow. 

Katsuki feels like a child. Aizawa saw him fucking cry. His sensei. 

Katsuki can’t look the man in the eye anymore. He focuses on the blanket again. 

“Are you feeling better?” 

Katsuki shrugs, and sniffs. A tissue appears in the corner of his eye. Katsuki takes it wordlessly. 

“You really don’t have that much extra water to lose,” Aizawa comments dryly. 

Katsuki snorts against his will. 

Aizawa allows him to clean his face up a bit before wordlessly passing him a glass of water. Even with the IV re-hyrdrating him, Katsuki is fucking thirsty. He gladly accepts it but he sips slowly. 

He learned his lesson last time.

“Where am I gonna go?” Katsuki hands the cup back.

Aizawa sets the cup down on the counter. “I have gained emergency custody-”

Katsuki remembers him saying that now. 

“-for now. We’re going to take it day by day. But we would love to have you stay with us permanently if you’d like. We can discuss that further down the road.”

“We?” Katsuki questions. From the whole mess that sentence was- really, Aizawa wanted him? What a joke- this was the one aspect his brain fixates on.

“Hizashi and I.”

“Who?” Katsuki scrunches up his nose. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Ah.” Aizawa leans back in the chair. “Present Mic.”

“The fuck? Why would-” Aizawa produces a chain from underneath his shirt. A golden wedding band dangles from it. “Oh.”

“We keep our marriage private.” Aizawa explains.

“So I would live with you?”

“Yes. Our home is always open to you.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say. All of this is still too weird. 

There’s a knock on the door. It cracks open and Hound Dog peers inside. 

“May I come in?” He asks. 

Katsuki ignores him.

“Yeah, come on.” Aizawa speaks for him. Katsuki scowls. 

Aizawa pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

Katsuki bites his lip. He didn’t know Hound Dog that well. Sometimes he would see the hero patrolling for security, but beyond that they had never had the chance to even speak to one another. 

“I’ll be back afterwards, kid.” Aizawa offers Katsuki a smile, which he doesn’t return. He watches his sensei leave with the barest hint of betrayal curling in his chest. 

Hound Dog sits in the chair that Aizawa had previously occupied. 

“It’s good to meet you. My name is Ryo Inui. You may call me Inui if you wish.”

Katsuki stares. 

Inui- as he wants to be called, apparently- doesn’t appear the slightest bit ruffled by his prolonged silence. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Katsuki glances away. It’s a bit of a loaded question, considering the past 24 hours Katsuki had. Inui waits for a considerable amount of time before moving on.

“I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but I am glad we are meeting all the same. Before we begin, I’d like to tell you a bit about myself. I find that it helps if we know something about each other before we dive into things.”

Katsuki refuses to say a word.

“Okay. As you know, I act as head of security for UA. I have my degree in Psychology. I am licensed to work specifically with teenagers and young adults, which is why I am contracted as a mental health liaison for UA high school alongside my security position.”

Inui pauses for a moment. “Do you have any questions for me so far?”

Katsuki shakes his head minutely. 

“Alright then. Into more interesting stuff, I have a dog quirk. This allows me to have a heightened sense of smell and a dislike for cats among other things,” Inui jokes.

Katsuki doesn’t laugh. Inui forges on as if there wasn’t an awkward silence every time he paused for Katsuki to presumably give input. 

“Well, I enjoy long walks and reading in my downtime. I like to volunteer at a soup kitchen during weekends when I am not scheduled for patrol. If you’d like to know anything else about me, feel free to ask. If not, would you care to tell me a little bit about yourself?”

Katsuki eyes him suspiciously. “Don’t you already know?”

“I would like to hear it from you. May I call you Katsuki?”

Katsuki shrugs. “Whatever.”

“Katsuki, you can tell me as much or little as you’d like.”

He glances towards the blanket again, fidgeting with a loose string. “I like spicy food. I like to cook. I-I fucking enjoy mountain climbing or whatever.”

“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” Inui asks him. 

“Does it matter?”

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” 

“Katsudon.” 

“Is that your favorite dish?” 

Katsuki thinks of green eyes. “No.”

“Okay.” Inui scribbles something on the pad of paper he brought with him. “I’m going to go over some basic things before we dive into anything. First, have you ever been to therapy before?”

Katsuki glares at him. “No.”

Inui is unbothered. “Well, typically, everything and anything you say here stays between us. Unless you tell me you are planning on harming yourself and others, I can’t disclose the topics of our discussions to anyone.”

“Even Aizawa?”

“Even him. As your temporary guardian, if you do tell me you are planning on hurting yourself or others, I must inform him, but otherwise, my lips are sealed. Now if you want me to tell him some of the things we talk about, I will need your written consent first and only then will I share those specific things we’ve agreed to share.”

“Oh. Okay.” Katsuki relaxes a tiny bit. 

Inui smiles at him. “I heard you had a bit of a difficult time last night.”

The moment of relaxation is gone. Katsuki is tense, wound up like a grandfather clock. When he tries to remember, some parts of last night are a blur of color and sound. He knows facts, like that he was in his room after he swallowed the pills, but Katsuki can't remember what he was doing before Izuku came in. 

Katsuki does remember the weekend, but even that is a bit foggy and the timeline is distorted. Nothing makes sense inside his head. Some part of him wants to. He didn’t mean to forget these things and the fact that they happened, that he was doing things he doesn’t even remember bothers him. 

How could he forget? It’s not like it was the first time. Katsuki forgot the League, too. That shit was really fucking important. 

His tongue aches as the phantom sensation of scissors cutting through shoots through it. Katsuki shudders. Yeah, he’d gladly forget that shit again. 

That’s why he did it, wasn’t it? Katsuki felt no sooner equipped to deal with those memories as he had last night. He didn’t want to even approach the topic of Toga with fucking Inui, Aizawa or Izuku. No one needed to know. It happened weeks ago. It didn’t matter. 

But they were out there. The League were still traipsing around and fucking up people’s lives. They could come for him at any time. It would be like he never even left. 

“Katsuki?”

Katsuki blinks to clear the thoughts away. Right. Inui was here. “Yeah?”

“I was calling your name for a little while.”

Katsuki begins to absentmindedly tug on the loose thread again. “Okay.”

“Does that happen a lot?”

Katsuki shrugs.

“Okay,” Inui says. “Katsuki, have they explained how long you’re going to be here?”

“72 hours,” Katsuki mutters.

“Did they explain why?”

“Probably because-” Katsuki pauses. He doesn’t want to say the word. “-because of what happened.”

Inui nods. “It can be a lot to take in,” he says softly. “There’s going to be a lot of changes in your life and that can be difficult to deal with.”

“Whatever.” 

Inui is right. Katsuki feels like he’s caught in a tornado; flung around from here to there. He has no idea where he’s going to end up. Every time Aizawa or Recovery Girl started to begin a conversation about anything remotely related to the situation, Katsuki promptly checked out.

Later, his mind begged. I’ll deal with this later.

“I can try and clear up any confusion for you.” Inui offers.

Katsuki shrugs again.

“Well, you’ll be staying here for those initial 72 hours. Since you attempted to kill yourself, there needs to be someone watching you during these next three days to ensure you’re not going to harm yourself. Considering the situation with your mother, has Aizawa told you about the change in custody?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any questions about that?”

Katsuki bites his lip. “She’s not a bad person.”

Inui hums. “You must care a lot for her,” he comments.

“Yeah, she’s my mom.”

“How do you feel about the change in custody?”

“She shouldn’t get in trouble or anything,” Katsuki starts. “She’s not a bad person. I just keep fucking up, you know?”

Inui tilts his head, considering. “What do you mean, ‘you keep fucking up’?”

Katsuki huffs. “I’m a bad kid. She’s just trying to help me.”

Inui doesn’t share the same immediate knee-jerk denial of Izuku. Instead, he tilts his head as if he’s actually considering what Katsuki told him. “How is she helping you?”

Inui seems honest enough. Maybe it's all therapy bullshit, but Katsuki feels a bit compelled to explain it to him. 

“She doesn't hurt me just for the kick of it,” Katsuki says. “I’m not a good person. She only punishes me when I deserve it. She’s trying to get rid of my bad habits.”

“Okay,” Inui says, nodding as he listens to what Katsuki is saying. “Do you feel her ‘punishments’ are helping you become a better person?”

Katsuki hesitates. The word ‘yes’ immediately rises to his lips, but something halts him from actually saying it. 

“It takes time,” Katsuki mutters. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We don’t have to,” Inui assures him. 

Katsuki stares at the threads of the blanket and tries to ignore the rising tide of memories waiting to assault him. 

No. No, Mitsuki was helping him. There was no doubt about it. It was helping him. 

Katsuki just couldn't see how yet. 

Aizawa returns as soon as Hound Dog slips out the door. 

“Were you waiting outside or something?” Katsuki grunts. 

Aizawa settles back into the hospital chair. “I was nearby,” the man says vaguely. 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. Of course. 

They settle back into an awkward silence. Aizawa doesn’t ask about Katsuki’s conversation with Hound Dog, and he doesn’t offer anything. 

Katsuki tries to sleep again. There’s nothing else to do and to be frank, Katsuki doesn’t want to be awake. If he can’t be dead, he'll sleep. At least he’s not conscious.

When Katsuki wakes up again, Aizawa is still there. Papers rustle quietly as his teacher scratches away with pen, marking and grading. Their eyes meet briefly before Katsuki quickly looks away.

“Your friends are worried about you.” Aizawa tells him as he flips one of the papers over. 

Katsuki exhales sharply through his nose. Couldn’t he have just one moment without people shoving this shit in his face? 

Even so, Katsuki can’t help but feel guilty. Through the haze of his scattered recollection, Katsuki remembers seeing Kirishima alongside Izuku. The terrified look on his friend’s face was not one he ever wanted to see. 

He caused that. Katsuki did that, no one else. 

He doesn’t know what he could ever say that would make up for it. Probably nothing. Katsuki wishes- oh he wants it so badly, to be dead. But he can’t. 

Katsuki is grimly reminded that yes, he is stuck here. And there is nothing he could do about it. They would always be watching him. No escape.

“So?” Katsuki tries to not let the bitterness swelling up inside him escape.

At this, Aizawa sets the pen down. He searches for something on Katsuki’s face. 

“They care for you.”

“Do they know?” Katsuki asks. 

Katsuki really, really hopes no one does. 

“Only the ones who were there,” Aizawa assures him.

Katsuki smothers the flicker of irritation that burns through him. 

“And who was that?” He demands, crossing his arms over his chest. The IV line is tangled in the crest of his arms.

Aizawa doesn’t show any outward signs of shock. Instead, something seems to melt from his expression. “Midoriya, Kirishima and Iida. No one else.”

Katsuki can only vaguely recall a flash of red and Kirishima’s terrified face. He can remember Izuku in more detail but even those memories are blurry and not very clear. Katsuki doesn’t remember Iida being there at all. 

“Oh.” Katsuki looks away from where Aizawa is seated.

He’s thankful no one else was there. 

Katsuki’s relief is brief. 

“Midoryia and Kirishima are asking to see you,” Aizawa tells him in a matter of fact way. 

Katsuki resists the urge to cringe outwardly. “Not Kirishima. I can’t, I just-I can’t do it,” he finishes lamely. 

Aizawa doesn’t seem bothered by his frantic, cluttered response. “Okay, kid. You don’t have to see anyone if you don’t want to.”

His teacher hesitates, opening his mouth and then closing it. 

“Do you want to see Midoriya?” 

And that- well, Katsuki isn’t sure. On one hand, Izuku is the only one who possibly understands even remotely how Katsuki is feeling right now. Even then, Katsuki can’t deny that he’s upset with Izuku. 

It’s impossibly hard to explain. Katsuki isn’t even sure how to identify what he’s feeling. 

Aizawa doesn’t pressure him. In fact, the man doesn’t say anything. He waits patiently for Katsuki’s response.

“Sure,” Katsuki finds himself saying.

After this, Katsuki stares at the blanket again, letting his mind run away from him. He isn’t sure how he feels about anything. 

When Izuku comes to visit him, his eyes are glassy and red-rimmed. 

Aizawa slips out of the room when the door opens, promising them privacy but assuring Izuku he’ll be close by. Izuku thanks him, but Katsuki doesn’t bother. He’s too busy eyeing the other up and down. 

Katsuki doesn’t comment on Izuku’s ruffled clothes, or the way he almost cries as soon as he spotted Katsuki in the hospital bed. Katsuki doesn’t tell him that he’s mad that he came into his room that other night. 

“Hey.”

Izuku sniffles, still fighting the battle against tears as he plops down in the hospital chair. 

“Hey.” Izuku’s voice cracks. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

Izuku nods, accepting his apology. 

Katsuki doesn’t say anything else.

Izuku takes a deep breath, looking up to stare at the ceiling. His fingers weave in and out of each other. It’s the same nervous habit he’s always had, since they were little brats. When Katsuki glances back at Izuku’s face, he’s chewing on his lip.

Suddenly, it hits Katsuki that Izuku is preparing for something. 

“Katsuki,” Izuku begins. 

Katsuki swallows hard. “Yeah?”

“I-I didn’t want to see you like that. Ever again.”

“I know,” Katsuki says quietly. 

Izuku looks at him now, green eyes brimming with unshed tears. It tears Katsuki apart to see him like this. Still, he fights against the urge to throw his arms around Izuku, holding him tight and begging for forgiveness. He wanted to tell Izuku he regretted it, if only just to make the other boy feel better.

But Katsuki wasn’t a liar. 

“You promised me-” Izuku swipes his eyes quickly. “You promised you would tell me when you felt that way.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly, ‘Zuku. I’m sorry-”

“You always say that!” Izuku slams his hands down to grip the edges of the chair, banging it loudly.

Katsuki flinches at the sudden noise. 

“You always fucking apologize Kat, every time!” The tears spill over now. Izuku sobs a rabid and feral cry. “I want to help you but all you do is push me away. And then something happens and-and you get hurt, and I try. I fucking try my best to help you but all you do is push me away after!”

“I’m sorry-” Katsuki tries again.

“Stop apologizing! Just-just stop, okay?”

Izuku sucks in another breath, trying to gain control of his crying. Katsuki allows him this, it's the least he can offer him. 

The sound of Izuku’s crying is the only thing filling the space between them.

“I thought you were going to die this time,” Izuku admits. 

Katsuki says nothing. All of his apologies are unwelcome. There’s nothing more Katsuki can do. 

“I was so scared. Kacchan, you were so out of it. You kept passing out in my arms. And I just kept thinking, every time, ’This is it. He’s not going to wake up again.’” Izuku choked out. “I didn’t know what to do. I felt so helpless. You-you were breathing really weird, and it started to slow down, and I really thought that was it. You were going to die in my arms and I would lose you forever.”

Katsuki’s own eyes fill with tears. His vision blurs but Katsuki doesn’t look away. He can’t.

“I’m alive because of you.” Katsuki tells him. He doesn’t want to say the other side of it. The sentence is both a thanks and an accusation. 

They stare at each other. Izuku cried openly and Katsuki with unshed tears wavering in his eyes. 

“Why did you do it?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Izuku flinches backwards at these words. 

“She did something, didn’t she?” He accuses.

Katsuki snorts. “It's not always about her.”

“You had a concussion. You didn’t come to me, like you usually do-”

“Okay, so I didn’t come to you one time.” It’s cheap and he knows it. Some part of Katsuki can't help it. That bitterness is rising within him once again.

You are alive because of him, the beast whispers darkly.  

“And you almost fucking died!” Izuku yells. “It’s not about the fucking concussion, Kat, you almost died.”

Izuku breaks down into sobs again. Katsuki feels useless, laying here in the bed. He doesn't want to keep hurting Izuku. None of this would be happening if the attempt worked; if Izuku hadn't come into his room that night. 

“I’m alive.” He tries to not sound angry when he says the words.

“Barely.”

“Do you want me to apologize? Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?” Katsuki says sarcastically. 

“No.” 

“Well, do you want the fucking truth?”

“Of course I want the fucking truth, Katsuki-”

“I wish it worked.” Something shatters in Izuku’s eyes as he says the words, but he cannot stop, not now, he needs to spit these words out even if it's the last thing they ever say to each other. 

“I wish I fucking died and every fucking minute I’m here is just another slap in the face. Every fucking second I regret not jumping off a fucking bridge instead. I’m not happy you saved me. I want to be dead. I want to be a fucking corpse, rotting in the ground-”

“Stop.”

“-worms eating my fucking innards-”

“Kat, stop.”

“-maybe then I will be worth something. I wish I was never born in the first place-”

“KATSUKI, shut the fuck up. Please.”

 Katsuki’s mouth shuts with an audible click. 

Izuku chokes on another sob. He stands up quickly. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Izuku manages to say between tears. “But I'm not apologizing for helping you. Even if you hate me, I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Fuck you,” Katsuki says, and the tears finally spill from his own eyes. 

“I need a break. From this.” Izuku sniffles. “I love you, Kat, I really do. But I need some space.”

“Get the fuck out of here, then.”

No. 

Katsuki doesn’t want Izuku to ever leave.

“Fine.” Izuku walks quickly to the door. “Bye, Kacchan.”

“Fuck you.” 

Izuku is already gone.

Chapter Text

The rest of Katsuki’s hospital stay is spent bored out of his mind. He sleeps a lot. Aizawa offers to let some more of his friends come visit, but Katsuki refuses. He doesn’t want to face any of them yet. 

Katsuki meets with Hound Dog every day. They talk about a lot of things, at least when Katsuki actually wants to speak. Sometimes they just sit there in silence. 

On the second day, Katsuki has to meet with a social worker. They ask him some questions about his mother that Katsuki intends on smoothing over. It doesn’t work, and by the time their conversation wraps up, Katsuki is set to stay with Aizawa for the time being. 

There’s going to be a trial sometime in the near future.

Katsuki doesn’t want to think about seeing his mother again with the disappointment of everyone knowing looming overhead. He can already picture the look on her face when she’ll stare him down, fury and sadness and relief all rolled into one. 

On the day they finally release him, Aizawa is right there by his side. It’s been annoying to constantly have another presence next to him. Katsuki is happy to escape the unwavering second pair of eyes, even if he had grown a bit fonder of the other man’s company. Not that he would ever mention any of that to Aizawa.

Katsuki is released just after lunch.

All of the other students are in their respective classes when they begin their trek across campus. Katsuki is grateful that he can avoid their curious eyes for a bit longer. 

As Aizawa leads him to his dorm room to collect some things, Katsuki is a bit more comfortable than he would have expected. The situation is still new and weird. Katsuki still wishes more than anything that he were dead, but here he was. If this was where he had to be, and he had to keep living right now, it wasn’t so bad. 

It’s not like the man was going to cut his tongue out with kitchen scissors. Or lock him in a closet. Or muzzle him. Well, actually, Katsuki wasn’t too sure on the last one. 

Okay, maybe he was a bit worried. 

Aizawa waits patiently as Katsuki pulls the key out of his pocket to unlock the door. 

Katsuki feels off being here. It’s just his room, of course, and it shouldn’t bother him. Yet, there’s something intimidating about standing outside the door, just a few feet away from the very bed he intended to die in. 

“Everything okay?” 

Katsuki blinks, jolting out of that train of thought. “Fine,” he grumbles. 

His hands are trembling. Katsuki shakes them out, trying to rid himself of the residual tremors. At this point, he’s not confident on how much of the tremors are from anxiety or the after effects of the overdose. 

Katsuki slides his card in the slot, the light blinks green and then the lock clicks open. He turns the handle and opens the door, trying to hide the deep breath he takes in to rally himself as he does so. 

His room is the same as always. Everything is neat and put away. The room is still mostly bare as Katsuki doesn’t own much, but the belongings he does have on display are organized and free of dust. The balcony doors are closed, and when Katsuki finally steps inside, he notices the slip of paper missing from his desk. 

Katsuki doesn’t ask who has it now. 

Instead, he walks over to his closet and picks out the bag he had packed for that weekend. The clothes Katsuki packed on Friday are still inside. Katsuki had never worn them. In fact, he hadn’t even had the chance to ever open the bag.

Katsuki stands there, holding the black backpack filled with clothes he hadn’t worn, still folded and neatly tucked away. He stares at it for a bit.

He doesn’t remember where things had gone off track. Katsuki hadn’t understood, he hadn’t known back then everything that was going to happen. Maybe if he had known, if he had some power of foresight like Sir Nighteye, Katsuki would have laid down on the train tracks and closed his eyes. 

But Katsuki didn’t have that quirk. 

“Katsuki?” 

Aizawa’s drawl drags him back to the present. Katsuki stares at the bag for a moment longer, lingering over the first pouch where he had a blade tucked away. 

“What?” Katsuki finally turns around. Aizawa is standing a few feet away, brows furrowed and arms crossed. 

“You’ve been staring at the bag for a bit, kid. Are you sure everything is alright?”

Katsuki scowls reflexively, tossing the bag towards his bed and stalking towards the bathroom to grab his toiletries. 

“Yes, I’m fucking-” His voices dies in his throat. 

The empty bottle of pills had been taken away, but the bottles of medication he had taken out of the medicine cabinet are still on the counter. The same bottles he had held in his hands, debating which poison he was going to swallow. They taunted him, and Katsuki abruptly remembers swallowing handful after handful, chugging water to rush the process along. 

Katsuki remembers the way they slid down his throat. He remembers collecting the scattered pills that had fallen to the ground like an animal, blowing dust off them before swallowing them as well. He remembers the desperation, the aching and bitter thing that had so suddenly devoured him. That black hole of nothing spitting out every vile thing Katsuki had buried deep within. 

“Kid?” 

Hesitant fingers brush his shoulder, and Katsuki leaps out of his skin, eyes blown wide with panic. He whirls around, whipping his arms up to protect his face, to blow whoever the fuck it is far away from him. 

Toga-Dabi, no-Aizawa.

Katsuki lowers his arms, recognizing the glowing red eyes.

At the movement, the red glow dissipates, and Aizawa’s face melts into concern. Katsuki is too preoccupied attempting to steady out his breathing to care.

“Hey, you’re alright,” Aizawa murmurs. He stays there, just out of reach, standing a bit away from the door so Katsuki has a clear path to escape if need be. “Just take a deep breath, Katsuki.”

Katsuki doesn’t want to admit how much those little things matter- from his non-threatening posture to the slow, deliberate movements Aizawa makes. 

“I’m okay,” he croaks, in a mild effort to convince himself. 

Aizawa’s eyes slide over to the counter, taking in the bottles of medications. “I didn’t realize they were still here.”

Katsuki avoids looking at them. He reaches with shaky fingers for his toiletry bag, yanking it quickly towards him. “It’s fine.”

Aizawa glances back to Katsuki, disbelief written across his features. Katsuki doesn’t bother hanging around. He side steps around Aizawa, exiting the bathroom and shoving the bag into the backpack. 

Aizawa seems content to allow Katsuki to brush this away for now.

“Would you like to bring anything else?” Aizawa asks him. 

Katsuki surveys the room. He really doesn’t own much. Most of the things he owns were gifts from others. Mitsuki only bothered to buy him the necessities and nothing more. 

“No.”

Aizawa opens the door as Katsuki tosses the bag over his shoulder. He looks back before he leaves. 

The room looks different cast in sunlight. Katsuki can’t help the thrum of nerves running through his veins. He can recall a bit more of that night as he spends more time in the room: the feel of Izuku’s hand on his head, the glint of worry in those green eyes, and the soothing tone of Izuku’s voice as he murmured niceties to him. 

Katsuki slips into the hallway, closing the door and effectively shutting the memories away. He follows Aizawa down the steps and out of the building. Katsuki doesn’t say anything else until they’re in the car and off campus. 

Katsuki sits in the passenger seat, staring at the cars and scenery passing by. They’re slowly making their way towards a decent part of town. Katsuki wouldn’t expect anything less from a pro hero, especially a pro hero couple. 

“We only have one cat,” Aizawa says out of the blue. 

Katsuki doesn’t bother even glancing his way. “Oh?”

His teacher sounded almost disappointed. “Jelly. I told you about her, if you remember?”

Katsuki does remember. Vaguely. “Okay.”

“Do you like cats?” Aizawa asks him after a stretch of silence.

Katsuki shrugs. “I guess.” He’s never really been around them. 

“Hizashi is excited to see you.”

“Right.” 

Just another reminder of how weird this whole situation was. 

Yamada hadn’t come to visit him during the suicide watch shit. Katsuki wasn’t upset about that in the slightest. The less people that saw him there, the better. 

“Do you have any questions for me?”

Katsuki shrugs again. “I dunno.”

Katsuki can’t bring himself to focus on anything in particular. He doesn’t even know what questions someone would ask in this situation and the ones that rise to his mind are stupid. He’ll figure them out later anyway. He is not going to ask Aizawa about his punishment system. Something tells him Katsuki isn’t going to like the answer. 

(Even if a part of him desperately wants to know.)

Katsuki lets the tense silence settle over the car. Aizawa has the radio on but he doesn’t recognize any of the songs. It doesn’t matter anyway. 

They drive for a bit longer before Aizawa pulls into the parking lot for an apartment building. Katsuki sits up straighter, eyeing the brick building with detached interest. It’s a couple stories high, with a nice enough exterior. The building doesn’t scream money, but it's not rundown either. 

Aizawa parks the car in a designated spot. “We’re here, kid.”

Katsuki fiddles with the straps of the backpack between his feet. He doesn’t bother saying anything to Aizawa. The bundles of nerves rise up within him again and his tongue feels glued to the roof of his mouth. He mutely gets out of the car and follows Aizawa inside.

There’s a doorman posted in the lobby, a man with a thick mustache and stern eyes. He surveys Katsuki as Aizawa offers some brief explanations and greetings. The other man nods in confirmation and they move past. 

The lobby is decorated in a modern air, with wide open concepts and minimalist decor. Katsuki likes it well enough. They head into the elevator and Aizawa pulls out a specialized key card, slipping it into a small slot.

“This will take us directly to the floor,” Aizawa explains. “You’ll get your own soon. Sasaki should have it ready by tonight. No one else can access their floor without a card. Other residents on other floors can’t access a floor that isn’t their own. There’s a couple other heroes in this building so security is decent.”

Katsuki nods. “Fancy,” he quips.

A flicker of a smile appears on Aizawa's face. “It may not seem like it, but it’s there. Has to be, with heroes around.”

Maybe he’s saying this to make Katsuki feel safer here. Katsuki appreciates the effort, even if it means nothing at all. They won’t keep him long. Soon they’ll be begging to get rid of him. 

The doors slide open, revealing the hallway. Katsuki follows Aizawa to an unassuming door, with the numbers 285 displayed on the placard. Aizawa uses his thumbprint to unlock the door. 

“We’ll add you to the system,” Aizawa tells him as he turns the handle.

Katsuki steps inside. 

The apartment isn’t overly large, yet the continuation of the open-air concept gives it the illusion of a greater space. After Katsuki takes off his shoes and sets them in the proper place, he trails behind Aizawa as they fully enter the room. 

The kitchen is located just off to his left, blending seamlessly into a dining area further behind. Separated by a small half-wall is the living area to his right. Further down, Katsuki notices a short hallway with three doors. To his immediate right, there’s another door that he can only assume leads to a small coat closet. 

The kitchen is full of sound and life, although currently occupied by only one person. Yamada, or Hizashi as Aizawa assures Katsuki can call the man, is bustling around the area with several pots and pans steaming on the stovetop. Headphones cover the man’s ears as he dances around, lifting up pots to add their contents to others as he hums along loudly to whatever song is currently playing in his ears. 

The dining area has a small table and isn’t much to pay attention to. The table itself is worn but well-loved, full of scuff marks and little nicks in the wood. The living area has a plush couch, loveseat and one comfy looking armchair. A TV is attached to the wall and an entertainment table that holds different gaming consoles. 

There’s photos scattered across the walls. Happy, laughing pictures of Aizawa (Shota) and Yamada (Hizashi) together. It's a bit odd to see them together, especially the smile splitting Aizawa’s face. They look so happy and carefree, much different from their professional personalities they assume for work. 

“Hizashi,” Aizawa calls out. 

The man in question doesn’t respond, too consumed with his task and probably deaf over the music blasting through the headphones. 

Aizawa casts Katsuki an exasperated look over his shoulder before walking into the kitchen and tapping the distracted man on the shoulder. 

Yama- Hizashi, Katsuki keeps having to remind himself, jumps at the sudden contact. And Shota now, too. Katsuki represses a shudder because calling his sensei’s by their given names still feels too fucking weird. 

“Ah!” Hizashi yelps, whirling around. He relaxes once he notices Aiza- Shota standing behind him, a small smile on his lips. Hizashi slips the headphones down to rest around his neck, eyes darting to where Katsuki is hovering awkwardly in the corner. His face breaks into a beaming smile.

“Listener! You’re here!” 

Katsuki shifts his weight, backpack still slung over one shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, and looks away before the weight of their eyes becomes too much. 

“C’mon kid, I can show you to your room.”

Aizawa nods towards the hallway past the living room, and leads Katsuki towards the door on the right of the small hallway. 

There’s one door at the end, and two more on the left side. 

Aizawa points to the door on the left side closest to the living room. “This one is just a closet,” he explains, moving on the gesture towards the other door on the left side. “This one is the bathroom. The door at the end is our bedroom, and this one is yours.” 

Aizawa- right, Shota - opens the door on their right. 

The bedroom isn’t too big but it's not quite small either. There’s a queen sized bed, a dresser pushed into the corner and a small closet. There's a window on the far wall but the blinds are closed so Katsuki can’t see the view. 

Katsuki wanders inside, setting his bag on the corner of the bed. Shota leans against the doorframe.

“Would you like to get settled in more now or would you like to do that later on?” Shota asks. 

Katsuki glances at his bag. “Not much to unpack,” he admits. But maybe he shouldn’t- maybe Shota won’t like this response. “I can do it later if that’s okay,” He tacks on nervously, quickly surveying Aiz-Shota’s body language.

The man doesn’t appear phased in the slightest. “Sure, kid. Whatever you’d like.”

Shota leans back to peer down the hallway. “Hizashi is finishing up. Are you hungry?”

Katsuki shrugs, wrapping his arms around his midsection. He wasn’t that hungry. He hadn’t been these past three days. The initial burning pangs of hunger had melted away after Katsuki had filled his stomach with pills. All of the meals he had eaten during his hospital stay tasted like ash. 

He follows Shota to the kitchen like a lost puppy anyway. Hizashi is transferring the food to dishes now. Shota immediately opens one of the cabinets to pull out three plates. Katsuki feels useless, standing there as they get everything ready. 

“Can I help with anything?” Katsuki offers. 

Two pairs of eyes slide his way and Katsuki fights against the urge to curl in on himself under their attention. Hizashi smiles regardless. “Sure thing, would you like to bring this to the table?”

Hizashi hands him a dish and Katsuki takes it, grateful to have something to do besides stand there like a useless extra. He sets it down on the table. Shota has already set the plates out with chopsticks. By the time he turns around to head back to the kitchen, Hizashi has already entered the room to set the final dishes of food down. 

Katsuki blinks. 

“Sit down, kid.” Aizawa gestures towards one of the chairs. “We got it.”

Katsuki sits down, staring at a small scuff in the wood by the edge of his plate. He can’t refuse to eat as that would be rude, but he’s not particularly hungry. The food looks appetizing and Yam-Hizashi is probably a decent cook. 

They serve him, which again, strikes Katsuki the wrong way. He’s not used to people doing things for him. Most of his life was spent taking care of himself and his mother. He learned to cook because he had to. If Katsuki hadn’t figured it out, he would have starved. 

Katsuki was used to doing everything to take care of himself. 

But this isn’t a space he’s comfortable with. Katsuki is sitting down for a meal with two pro heroes, his teachers, who are now apparently his temporary guardians. He knew better than to speak out against anything until he figured out the rules here. 

“Everything okay, listener?” Hizashi asks. “If you don’t like it, that’s okay, we can find something else.”

Katsuki blinks, lifting his head. He realizes a bit too late that he’s been staring at his food without touching it for an unacceptable amount of time. Katsuki’s face flushes with heat. 

“No, it’s fine.” Katsuki lifts the first bite to his mouth. Just like the past couple days, the taste is lost on his tongue. He chews and swallows the mush obediently. 

Katsuki misses the worried look the two pros share across the table. 

Shota clears his throat and sets his chopsticks down. Hizashi does the same. 

“Hey kid, there’s some things we need to discuss.”

Katsuki pushes the food around his plate. He refuses to meet their eyes. To avoid responding, Katsuki shoves another tasteless bite into his mouth. He chews it slowly, drawing out the awkward silence. 

Shota sighs, not bothering to reprimand him for the blatant avoidance. Katsuki wonders what will push the man over the edge. It didn’t take much for Mitsuki to lose her composure. Aiz-Shota was probably more used to this type of behavior, but even he demanded a certain level of respect from his students. 

Katsuki had no doubt crossed that line. He’d definitely toed the line into rudeness during these past few days. Shota was bound to punish him sometime. 

That thought sent shivers down his spine. Before he realized what he was doing, Katsuki placed his chopsticks down gently on the table. He lifted his eyes, forcing his posture to straighten and a bland, indifferent look to befall his features. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized quickly, before they could shut him out. 

Katsuki needed to get his act together. Shota could act completely different behind closed doors. Katsuki did not want to find out the hard way. He struggled to keep his tone even and agreeable. “What did you want to talk about?”

This time, Katsuki didn’t miss the way their eyes crinkled with concern, or the way they glanced at each other, sharing a look he couldn’t quite decipher. 

“It can wait until after lunch, right Sho?” Hizashi’s eyes slide over to Shota’s.

Shota dips his head, although his gaze doesn’t leave Katsuki. “Sure. It’s up to you, kid.”

Katsuki falters. 

Up to him? They were letting him decide? 

Katsuki furrows his brows, scanning the two pros. They didn’t seem to be hiding any malice behind their words. Shota’s face was as blank as ever, yet Katsuki found himself searching for the familiar twitch of his eye that typically betrayed the man’s anger. 

There was no sign of it.

A quick, cursory look at Hizashi revealed about the same. He did not seem any more aggressive than his partner. 

Katsuki didn’t know what to make of the offer. Everyone always made decisions for him. They never left the choices up for him to decide. Especially Mitsuki. Wasn’t that how this parenting or guardian shit was supposed to work? They told him what to do, not the other way around. 

Hizashi and Shota were still waiting patiently for him to decide. 

“Now I guess.” Katsuki didn’t want to finish the food before him any more than he wanted to have this conversation, but he was not one to leave things for later. It was always better to face them immediately, head on. 

Shota and Hizashi settled a bit into their chairs. Hizashi sent another indistinguishable glance to Shota before standing up and offering Katsuki a small smile. 

“Would you like any tea or coffee? I’m about to put some on.”

Katsuki shrugs. “Tea, I guess.” He bites his lip harshly enough for a metallic taste to coat his tongue before he tacks on, “Thank you.”

“Of course, it’s no problem,” Hizashi says brightly. “Coffee for you, Shota?”

Shota hums an affirmative. Hizashi disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of them sitting opposite at the table. Shota’s plate was mostly empty, while Katsuki’s looked barely touched. The food was cooling and there was still no trace of hunger in Katsuki’s stomach.

“How are you feeling, Katsuki?” 

Katsuki shuffles his feet underneath the table. “I’m fine.”

Shota pauses. “You seem different, kid.”

“I’m okay.”

“Katsuki, I just want to say that Hizashi and I are here for you. Considering what happened Sunday night, we want to make it clear that if there’s ever a time where you don’t feel safe with yourself, or you just want to talk, we are always available for you. It’s no bother. Anytime, kid.”

Katsuki nods. It's a nice gesture, but Katsuki doesn’t see himself ever taking them up on it. He would rather die than talk about the fucked up shit going on inside his head.

Instead, he folds his arms over his chest and stares resolutely at the table. 

“I’m serious, Katsuki. We want to be here for you and support you with whatever you may need, but that only works if we can communicate clearly to one another.”

“Yeah, okay.” 

“I worry about you, kid.”

Katsuki finally lifts his tired eyes. Shota’s forehead is all wrinkled, probably because of the extra stress Katsuki has caused him these past couple days. He hates it. 

“I’m sorry,” Katsuki apologizes. 

Shota’s face twists into a stricken expression. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he insists. 

Hizashi walks back in, setting a mug in front of Shota. He sets a cup of tea down in front of Katsuki before heading back to the kitchen to grab his own. The man returns and sits back down in his chair. 

“Everything going alright?” Hizashi asks lightly. 

Katsuki shrugs again. 

“Why don’t we go over some ground rules?” Shota offers. 

Hizashi picks up his mug, blowing on it softly. “We care about you a lot, listener. We want you to be safe. These rules are only in place to help you, ya’dig?”

Katsuki is tired. He nods again, letting that distant and uncaring feeling wash over him. It’s all the same. Rules that Katsuki is not supposed to break, yet set up exactly for him to break. Punishments. Things taken away to keep him in line. 

He stares at the two pros, feeling like a shadow of his former self. Where had the fire gone? The drive to prove himself, over and over. To be better than Mitsuki thought him to be. Where had that unbroken desire to become the Number One hero run off to? 

Katsuki felt like his bones were melting into the chair as he slumped further down. He probably looked a picture- all defeated and broken. Even so, Katsuki did not care. 

“Katsuki?” 

Katsuki struggles to focus on the voice speaking to him. He’s so tired. For once in his life, Katsuki does not mind the perceived weakness. He just wants to sleep. There’s no point in anything else. 

Maybe he did die that night. Katsuki doesn’t feel very alive right now. He’s not Katsuki any longer. Only this ghost of his ruined personality remains. The rest of him died choking on pills and vomit. 

“I’m tired,” Katsuki manages to say. 

Even this seems to take too much from him. Katsuki fights to keep his eyes open, to reassert himself back into this conversation. 

“I know you are, kid,” Shota says softly back to him.

“Do you feel like you’re going to hurt yourself, Katsuki?” Hizashi questions. His voice is soothing and quiet for once. 

Katsuki shakes his head. He just wants to sleep. “I’m too tired to do anything.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Hizashi tells him. His eyes are sad when Katsuki checks. 

Shota begins to explain some of the rules. “We locked up sharp objects in this house, as well as any medications. If you ever need medication just let one of us know and we’ll get it for you. As for the use of knives, we’d like to be there to supervise, at least for a little while. Is that okay with you?”

Katsuki nods. He wants this conversation to be over. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He expected something like this. 

“There’s no drug or alcohol use permitted.” There’s brief moment of hesitation from Shota. “Midoriya mentioned that you drank a bit sometimes in the past? We just want to be clear, that is not allowed here. If you are struggling, please just talk to one of us and we will help you.”

Katsuki wants to punch Izuku whenever he sees him next. “Sure,” he says between gritted teeth. 

Drinking was the one time his brain finally quieted and now that was being taken from him too. It’s not like Katsuki could have really done anything while he was living here, but Izuku telling them about that shit crossed a line. Izuku seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

So much for keeping his secrets. 

“I don’t care,” He deflects, trying to ignore that wriggling thread of anxiety. 

“We’re okay with you visiting friends, or having them over to visit, we just ask that you run it by us first,” Hizashi explains. “We want to know where you are, just for your safety and our peace of mind. Does a 10 o’ clock curfew sound reasonable to you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” It’s not like Katsuki really went anywhere. He wasn’t used to people caring where he was, and at all times no less. It felt a bit overbearing. 

“I think that was everything,” Hizashi looked over to Shota. “Are we missing anything?”

“We do need to get some things for your room,” Shota began. He placed a hand over Hizashi’s hand on the table. “If you want, we can head out a bit later for that, or we could knock that out now.”

“Why?” Katsuki frowned. “I have everything I need.”

“Well, we figured you might like some personal touches to decorate your room. Just a couple things to help you feel more at home here. Ya’dig?” Hizashi explained gently.

Katsuki looked between the both of them. They wanted to spend money on him? Katsuki shifts around, beginning to pick at the skin around his fingernails again.

“I don’t need anything,” he insists, “You don’t have to spend any money on me.”

“We want to, kid.” Shota is giving him one of those looks again. He’s speaking carefully, like he thinks Katsuki needs to be handled with care. “You didn’t bring much with you-”

“I have everything I need,” Katsuki cut in firmly. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling a bit defensive. “Don’t spend your money on me.”

“How about this-” Shota leaned back in his chair, still speaking in that soft and even tone, “Can you tell us why you don’t feel comfortable with us spending money on you?”

Katsuki quickly looked between the both of them. This question felt dangerous. Usually his mother would ask some type of loaded question like this, and whatever response Katsuki gave was always the wrong one. However, he couldn’t ignore it. 

“I have everything I need,” Katsuki repeated cautiously, still flicking his eyes between the both of them. Katsuki made sure to wash his sentences of any curse words. No sense in angering them. “Why buy anything when I don’t need it?”

“I think we have different definitions of what you need,” Hizashi said. “You only have a backpack worth of clothes and toiletries, listener. That’s only a couple outfits outside of your school uniforms.”

“So?” Katsuki honestly could not understand how someone would need more than that. “I have clothes to wear.”

“Okay, kid. Wouldn’t you like to not have to do laundry every other day?” Shota tried to reason with him.

Katsuki felt his leg begin to bounce under the table. “I-I guess,” he amended. “I don’t know.”

“We can only get a couple things if that makes you more comfortable, listener. Just a few, not too much.”

Katsuki stared at his cup of tea. It had grown cold in the time it had taken them to reach this compromise. “Okay.”

“Why don’t we head to the store later on?” Shota offered. 

Katsuki wiped the nervous sweat from his hands on his pants. “Okay,” he repeated. Katsuki remains there for a moment longer, not willing to meet their eyes. “Can I go?”

“Sure, kid.” 

Katsuki gets up to leave the table, reaching to grab his plate and bring it to the sink. 

When Katsuki reaches the guest room, there’s a lump of gray fluff nestled between the two pillows. The cat doesn’t bother lifting his head to greet him. Katsuki takes the bag and begins to pull out the clothes he packed. 

He doesn’t have much. Katsuki always felt that odd unforgettable embarrassment when others pointed that out. It was so much worse now that Hizashi and Shota seemed hellbent on getting him more. Katsuki didn’t need it. He didn’t want to be indebted to them anymore than he already was.  

How was he ever going to pay them back for this? 

The cat finally blinked one yellow eye open, regarding Katsuki lazily before it stretched its body out and yawned. 

Katsuki watched it jump off the bed and wander out of the room.

If only life was that easy for him. The fucking cat didn't have to worry about guardians or parents or fucking clothes. It just ate, slept and got attention.  

He turned back to his bag of belongings. Katsuki had more in his dorm room closet, but not much. The cat probably had more shit than he did. 

They went to the store later that day. Hizashi was bubbly and full of laughter and smiles. Shota was more reserved; a tall, silent figure that seemed to absorb all of Hizashi’s brightness with a small smile of his own. 

They shared kindness between them, meeting each other’s eyes frequently. Hizashi would seem to melt a bit, and the loudness of his personality became more subdued. Yet Shota would grow a bit more outgoing. They balanced each other out, blending into some weird middle ground together. 

Katsuki had never quite seen anything like it. They both loved each other, that much was obvious. The two pros knew each other well and they could communicate through brief eye contact and glances. Katsuki could never imagine doing that with anyone. 

Hizashi seemed set on giving Katsuki everything in the store, even though they had agreed on only getting a few things. Shota helped reign the man in, constantly reminding him of their previous agreement. Katsuki let them argue over things. He would throw his opinion in here and there, but overall he was content to listen. 

It was stupid, but Katsuki was scared they were going to kick him out once they realized how fucked up he was. They knew some of it, of course. Shota had been there when Katsuki had tried to do it. They knew he was bitter and violent and maybe more of a villain than any of his other classmates, but they couldn’t know all of it. If they had, Katsuki was sure they wouldn’t have taken him in. 

They would have left him to his mother, and that would have been that. Shota and Hizashi must not have realized who Katsuki was as a person. Izuku must have lied somewhere, or brushed over things with his naturally kind disposition so they didn’t accurately realize what they were getting into. 

Katsuki gave his opinion on shirts, pants and socks. Hizashi started to select a bit more than they had agreed on. Katsuki didn’t know how to tell the pro to stop. They were in public. Katsuki didn’t want to risk anything with other people around. It was better to just keep his head down and agree with whatever.

"That's fine," he told Hizashi for the millionth time.

Hizashi pouted. "You said that about the last three," he complained. "I feel like you're lying to me."

"They're all fine," Katsuki insisted.

"But-"

"'Zashi." Shota laid a hand on the man's arm. "If he says they're fine, then they're fine."

"But Sho-"

"It's okay." Shota flashed Katsuki a rare smile. "Let's move on to the bedding. We have enough clothes in the cart."

Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest as Hizashi huffed. "Oh, okay."

Hizashi led them to a different part of the store, while Katsuki and Shota obediently followed.

"Are you doing alright, kid?"

Katsuki shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Would you tell me if you weren't?"

Katsuki shrugs again. "I guess."

"We want the best for you," Shota tells him finally. "'Zashi may be trying to buy out the entire store, but it's only because he wants to give you the best. This is part of his way of doing that." 

Katsuki glances over to his new guardian. "I still don't need any of this," he grumbled. 

"Agree to disagree. I will try to hold him back a bit more, but I can't make any promises."

Katsuki nods. "Yeah, okay."

Hizashi holds up a blue comforter set. "How about this one?" He immediately puts it down and grabs another, this one a bright orange. "Maybe this is more your style?"

Shota's trying to hold back a chuckle. Katsuki's own lips twitch in response. 

"I like the blue."

Hizashi absolutely beams. "Awesome! Blue is a great color! I'm more of a yellow fan myself, but blue is a great choice."

He proceeds to display every blue comforter option available to the both of them. Katsuki gets lost in the shuffle, eventually just insisting if they have to buy a brand new set, then the blue striped one was okay. 

It was all too weird, but Katsuki let the man have his moment. He seemed oddly ecstatic about shopping in a way that Katsuki could never hope to understand. At least Shota was on his side.

After that, Shota urged Hizashi to the checkout line. Katsuki refused to look at the rising price as more and more items were scanned. He didn’t need to feel anymore guilty than he already was.

By the time they made it back to the apartment and all of the bags were in the guest room, Katsuki was exhausted. He unpacked some of the things they had bought, but he was too tired to do all of it. Instead, he brushed his teeth and changed into an old shirt and shorts. Katsuki curled up in the bed, staring at the shopping bag that held the new comforter and bedsheets. 

Life still felt like a dream.  

Katsuki woke up sometime during the night.

The sheets were fisted between sweaty palms, smoke rising from his grasp. Air heaved in and out of his lungs. He frantically scanned the room, reaching up with a heated hand to feel his mouth- yes, his tongue was still there. 

The warm feel of blood faded away. Instead, sweat caused his clothes to cling to his skin. Katsuki panted; resting his head in his hands and trying to control the quaking of his muscles. 

The door burst open, and Katsuki flinched backward, raising his hands to protect his head.

There was a brief pause, then, “Katsuki?”

Katsuki slowly lowered his arms, peeking through the gaps to spot glowing red eyes. “W-what?”

The red glow disappeared. The light in the hallway flicked on, revealing Shota’s dark figure in the doorway. Behind him, Katsuki could hear Hizashi fumbling around. 

“Katsuki, are you okay?” Shota asked softly. 

Katsuki fought against the urge to cry. He scanned the room again, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Thankfully, the room was so empty there were no crevices to hide away in. The League wasn’t here. No one was. 

“Katsuki?” Shota asked again.

Blinking hard, Katsuki scrambled to find words. “I-I’m fine.” His voice wavered. 

“Sho?” Hizashi’s voice filtered in from the hallway. “Do you want a coffee?”

Before Shota could respond, Hizashi appeared in the doorway. “Hey listener, do you want tea or water?”

Tears flooded Katsuki’s eyes against his will, and he bit his lip viciously to keep them at bay. 

“Katsuki?”

Suddenly, the tears spilled over, and Katsuki felt a sob shake his shoulders. Like the dam was broken, more tears rushed down his face and another sob broke free. 

“Oh, kiddo.”

Katsuki cried, wrapping his arms around his frame. The sound of footsteps approaching, then a wavering hand held above his shoulder, “Hey kid, is it okay to touch you?”

Katsuki wanted to demand they leave, he wanted to push them away, but he felt so raw and wrong-footed that he nodded instead. Strong arms wrapped around his body, holding him close. Someone murmured soothing words overhead. 

They didn’t blame him. They didn’t say: this is your fucking fault, suck it up. They said, “You’re going to be okay, kid. I’m here.” 

Katsuki slowly let himself go, centimeter by centimeter, giving into the firm arms holding him close. Each sob ripped its way free from his throat. Katsuki did not know how to cry like Izuku, tears spilling freely over round cheeks. He only knew how to roughly hold each one back until it tore its way from his chest violently. 

Katsuki cried like there was nothing left. 

Shota did not seem to mind. He held Katsuki through every broken gasp, even as his shirt grew wet with Katsuki’s tears. Fear and sadness and anger piled high, mixing together and escaping with the rest of it. Katsuki let it all go. 

These arms did not hold him back. They held him up; they supported him. Katsuki sunk into the embrace.

Some time passed, and Katsuki pulled himself away. He wiped his face roughly, sniffling. 

“Do you feel better?” Shota asked quietly. 

Katsuki nodded. 

“Why don’t we head out to the kitchen? ‘Zashi put on tea for us.”

Katsuki followed Shota minutely to the kitchen, feeling small and out of place. Hizashi was already sitting down in one of the kitchen chairs. He smiled softly when they entered, pushing a mug with dancing cats towards Shota. To Katsuki, he offered another cat mug. This one featured a black cat curled around the base. 

Just how many cat mugs do these two own? Katsuki found himself wondering as he settled down in the chair. 

He tried to take a sip, but his hands shook too much when he lifted the mug. The tea inside sloshed around dangerously, so Katsuki set it back down on the coaster with a small, defeated sigh.

In the wake of the nightmare, as Katsuki began to pull himself back together, he felt a bit foolish for waking up his teachers. 

Katsuki sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. 

“You don’t have to apologize, kid.” Shota told him firmly. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Tears flooded his eyes again. Katsuki blinked rapidly to clear them.

“We’re just worried about you, listener,” Hizashi said, hands curled around his mug. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Shota asked. 

Katsuki shook his head vigorously. 

“Okay. We can just sit here, if that’s what you want?”

Katsuki stared at the steam curling upwards from the hot tea. He gave a tiny nod. 

“Does this happen often?”

Katsuki shrugged. 

“I’m okay,” Katsuki said instead. He didn’t know if he was attempting to convince himself or his newly appointed guardians. 

“You don’t have to be, kiddo,” Shota told him softly. 

As if. 

Katsuki fought against the desire to laugh. No one gave a shit if Katsuki wasn’t okay. They just wanted him to keep moving forward.

Katsuki wrapped himself up in the odd, quiet lull of the early morning. His eyelids drifted shut, and the tension in his muscles began to slowly fade away. Katsuki took another deep breath and this one felt more controlled. The frantic, anxious undertone from before was gone. 

They did not ask any more questions. Katsuki gave no answers. 

They sat there at the table until the tea grew cold, and even then, Hizashi refilled the mugs again and again. Katsuki waited until sunrise to slink away to his room, curling up underneath the comforter and feeling a little less lost and fragile. 

It was only after his eyes had closed and his breathing evened out that Shota cracked the door to check on him. 

The two freshly minted guardians eyed their new ward as he gave in to sleep. 

“I’m really worried about him, Sho,” Hizashi murmured to the other. “Something’s not right.”

“I know,” Shota said, not looking away from where Katsuki rested uneasily. “We’re doing everything we can.”

“Hmm,” Hizashi hummed, not entirely pleased. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Hizashi finally turned away, heading down the hall to the kitchen. Shota risked another brief ten seconds hovering in the doorway, not willing to relinquish his unofficial guard. 

“I’m going to help you, kid,” Shota promised him before he finally closed the door as quietly as he could manage. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki fiddles with the strap of his backpack as Shota turns the car down UA’s long driveway. 

“Are you nervous?” Shota pointedly looks to where Katsuki’s hand is strangling the backpack.

Katsuki rolls his eyes but he releases the strap from his grasp. “No,” he denies. 

“Everything is going to be fine,” Shota assures him. 

Katsuki glances out the window, watching the trees pass by. “I know.”

He does know, logically, that everything will be fine. Intimidating as it may be, most of the fuckers in his class have no idea (hopefully) what happened. All they know is that Katsuki disappeared for a couple days for no apparent reason. 

Katsuki chews on his bottom lip. It sounds stupid to admit he cares what his classmates will think of him if they found out, especially when Katsuki always made sure to make it a point that he specifically didn’t care what they thought. 

It’s easier to say you don’t care about something when in reality, you actually care a lot. That way, when people hurt you, there’s no expectation that they’ve actually hurt you. You can just pretend like it never bothered you in the first place. 

Maybe the pushing shit aside is why Katsuki is so messed up in the head. Even so, he’s not going to stop, because that would mean dealing with all of those things that he’s been pushing aside. And also, Katsuki doesn’t know how to stop.

So for now, Katsuki does not care. 

Shota parks the car in his designated parking spot. Neither of them make any move to get out of the vehicle. 

“It’s okay if you’re nervous.”

Katsuki looks out the window. 

They’re in the teacher’s parking garage, although it's quite empty at this hour. No other teacher is pulling up or getting out of their car because Shota insisted they arrive much earlier than normal. Katsuki didn’t understand why, but now, maybe he does. 

Katsuki rests his hand on the door handle, trying to muster up the courage to face his classmates in the dorms. 

“Thank you,” Katsuki says, so quietly he may not have actually said it all. 

Shota inclines his head in acknowledgment. 

Katsuki slips out of the car before his teacher/guardian has the chance to say anything else. 

The walk to the dorms passes by far too quickly for Katsuki’s liking. 

Far too soon, Heights Alliance looms in front of him. Katsuki wrinkles his nose, eyeing the brick building with distaste. Inside, beyond those windows and plaster, his classmates are beginning to wake up and get ready for classes. 

Katsuki slowed his steps a bit, dragging out the moments between him and the front door. 

It was stupid to prolong the pretense like this. Katsuki wasn’t a coward by any means but something about trying and failing to kill yourself while you had a concussion from your own mother made him a bit apprehensive about facing his classmates. 

Some of them were just so fucking nosy. 

The door opens, and Katsuki has a rush of deja vu as Izuku steps out onto the pavilion. Their eyes meet before Katsuki can even consider turning around and leaving. 

Izuku doesn’t say anything. He stops walking, and Katsuki halts his cautious shuffle forward. They stare at each other.

Izuku looks the same as always. He’s wearing his UA uniform, tie messily knotted around his neck. He was never able to figure it out, no matter how many videos Katsuki forced him to watch, or tutorials he gave. Katsuki had eventually given up. Izuku hadn’t cared, he’d just laughed as Katsuki’s exasperation mounted. 

‘It’s no use,’ Izuku told him, a laugh edging around his voice. ‘I’ll never learn.’

Katsuki hadn’t given up then. It wasn’t until later on in their middle school years, just before everything went to shit, that he finally gave in.

‘You’re fucking hopeless,’ Katsuki scolded him. ‘It’s like you're not even trying.’

Izuku smiled coyly. ‘At least I have you to help me out.’

And shortly after, Izuku told his teacher about his mother. Then the police stopped by their house. Then Mitsuki wriggled her way out of suspicion with soft smiles and gentle laughs. Then Katsuki doesn’t remember what happened next. 

They stopped talking after Katsuki lost his shit on Izuku. When Izuku’s lip was bleeding, a black eye shaping up and tears were running down his face.

‘I was just trying to help,’ Izuku cried. 

‘Don’t fucking help me. Don’t ever talk to me again,’ Katsuki spat. 

And where were they now? 

A little over a year later, and now Izuku left him because Katsuki, like always, was a useless piece of shit that only knew how to hurt people. Even when he was trying to save everyone from himself, Katsuki managed to fuck everything up. 

Blaming Izuku for his own fucking mess, like usual. No wonder Izuku was tired of his shit. It was a wonder the other boy hadn’t left years ago, back when all of this began. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku said hesitantly, dragging Katsuki back into the present. 

Just looking at Izuku fucking hurt. It was like a flashing billboard sign saying: Hey look at me! Look at how much you fucked up!

Katsuki bit the inside of his cheek. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”

Izuku, much to his chagrin, winces. “I still care about you.”

Katsuki can’t bear to face his failures any longer. They both know he’s only going to fuck up again and again and again. He’ll continue to make mistakes until Izuku leaves for good. 

Maybe it’s better to nip this in the bud. No matter how much it hurts, Izuku is safer without Katsuki around.

“Well, don’t,” Katsuki says harshly. He narrows his eyes, drawing himself up in what he hopes is an aggressive stance. Even when the dark circles under his eyes say otherwise. “You wanted to leave me the fuck alone. So do that, and fuck off.”

Something shuttered in Izuku’s eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that,” He insists. Izuku reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose. When he opens his eyes again, Izuku is scowling. “Look. You know I care for you, Kacchan. And I understand that you’re going through a difficult time. But don’t take it out on me. I asked you one question, that was it.”

“I don’t fucking care okay? You wanted to leave, then fucking stand by what you said and fuck off.” Katsuki snarled.

Izuku crossed his arms over his chest. “Why can’t you just listen to what I’m saying? I’m not trying to leave you-”

“You literally said you needed space from me.” Katsuki deadpans. “How the fuck else should I have taken that?”

“Kacchan-”

The door swings open behind Izuku. Immediately, they both shut up. Uraraka pokes her head out.

“Deku? What are you-” Her eyes lock on Katsuki. “Oh my god, Bakugou! You’re back!”

Voices begin to flood out from inside the common room. Katsuku winces. Definitely not the welcome he wanted. 

Katsuki hikes the backpack strap higher on his shoulder and pushes forward past Izuku. Uraraka tries to say something else, but Katsuki shoves the door open wider and slips past her. 

His classmates are already beginning to crowd around the entryway, full of wide smiles and friendly greetings. Katsuki fights the urge to roughly shove them all away from him. Through the mix, he catches a flash of red hair that stops his heart in his chest.

“Bakugou?”

Katsuki winces at the desperate tone in his friend’s voice, turning away from the crowd to forcibly make his way to the elevator. All around him, his classmates' voices begin to muddle together.

“Hey! Where’d you go, man?”

“We missed you, Blasty!”

A hand wraps around his wrist. Katsuki only jerks back for a second before he recognizes who it is. 

“Bakugou.”

He swallows hard. 

Katsuki doesn’t have to turn around to know its Kirishima. He could recognize the rough, calloused hands and gravelly note to his voice. 

Kirishima doesn’t need to say more. The unspoken question rested heavily in the air. Katsuki did not want to face this any more than he wanted to be alive, but there was no avoiding it. 

“My room,” he says, low enough that only Kirishima could hear. To the rest, he growls, “Leave me the fuck alone.”

Mina pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “Aw, we’re just saying hi. We missed you.”

Katsuki finally succeeds in detangling himself from the crowd, throwing a scowl over his shoulder. “Yeah, fucking whatever. Gimme some goddamn space.”

Most of the idiots in his class recede at that. They back away without protest, only eyeing him from a distance. Katsuki struggles to relax the wired, tense bunch of his muscles. 

Katsuki manages to escape to the elevator with no issues. Kirishima trails behind him, never looking away. 

The doors close behind them. Katsuki slumps against the metal wall, closing his eyes. The silence washes over them. 

He doesn’t know what to say. Frankly, he’s not too keen on beginning the conversation. Katsuki isn’t going to apologize, even though he knows that seeing him in that state was probably pretty shitty. Katsuki’s not a liar. Kirishima got involved against his will, and that has nothing to do with Katsuki and everything to do with fucking Izuku bringing him downstairs.  

“Bakugou.” 

Katsuki opens his eyes immediately. 

He regrets it. Kirishima’s eyes are filled with tears as he’s biting his lip to prevent them from spilling over. Even so, it’s a losing battle. 

Regret wrangles his stomach into a pretzel. Katsuki looks away, pinching the skin on his bicep. 

“What?” His voice cracks, and Katsuki winces. 

“I-are you okay?” Kirishima says, although his voice is wobbly. 

“Yeah.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” Kirishima admits. “Aizawa wasn’t telling us much, other than you survived. I’m really glad you’re okay, man.”

The elevator doors open, and Katsuki gladly leaves before he has to respond. He knows he owes Kirishima this, but he really doesn’t want to talk about how badly he failed. Katsuki feels so off he just wants to lock himself away in his room for the rest of the day. Or magically fast forward past everyone addressing his absence or fucking attempt.

Attempt. What a cruel word.

Katsuki still allows Kirishima into his room, against all of his better judgment. The other boy settles on the bed, although he’s peering into the half open door to the bathroom. Katsuki slams it shut, crossing his arms back over his chest and plopping down on the desk chair. 

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” Katsuki mutters before Kirishima can say anything.

“You’re just going to ignore it?” Kirishima asks incredulously. “Bro, you can’t ignore this.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue. “It is what it is.”

“Okay,” Kirishima leans forward, frowning. “That’s definitely not healthy.”

“Who fucking cares?” Katsuki snarled. “I didn’t ask for you to care about me, okay? I didn’t want you there, or anybody else- everything would’ve been fine.”

It goes without saying what Katsuki’s definition of ‘fine’ was.

“Bakugou, I-”

“Don’t, okay? Fuck.” 

“Why did you-” Kirishima shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

They sit in silence. 

“We don’t have to talk about this. But I want you to know that we all care a lot about you. Me, Mina, Denki and Hanta would’ve missed you so much, you know?”

Katsuki picks at the skin around his fingernails. By now, some spots are bloody. 

Maybe they do care about him. It doesn’t change a thing, even if Katsuki wished it did. They’ve only known him for a couple months, anyway. They would get over it. Everyone would.

“You do know that, right man?” Kirishima asks softly, almost like he’s afraid of what Katsuki might say.

“You’d get over it,” Katsuki says, as blunt as ever. 

Kirishima reels backwards as Katsuki meets his gaze, eyes flat and serious. 

“No, Bakugou, we wouldn’t. You mean so much-”

“Do you have to do this?” Katsuki is tired. 

But when isn’t he?

“Yes,” Kirishima insists fiercely. “You need to know this. Bakugou, please, you can’t really believe that we would get over you just like that. I would miss you forever dude, and so would everyone else.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

Everyone liked to say the same shit. ‘We care about you, don’t do it’ or ‘It’s not worth it’. But people who fucking said those phrases just didn’t understand. They had never been on bruised knees, begging for even an inkling of happiness or a flash of joy. They had never felt the all consuming ache, the crushing weight of knowing this would never get better because it never had. 

Katsuki wasn’t fucking killing himself on some small whim. It hadn’t been a bad day, it was a bad life. Everything Katsuki found for himself was torn away from him. There wasn’t good in his life, there wasn’t a happy ending, there was no purpose. 

Katsuki wanted to die because he had never wanted to live. It had been fucking years since all of this began. He wasn’t going to change his mind. These were just the cards he had been fucking dealt. 

No one ever understood that.

So yeah, all those stupid little ‘life is worth it, just fucking smile’ shit pissed him off. As if Katsuki hadn’t tried to better his life, as if every day he spent surviving was ground down into the dust. It didn’t matter, just fucking smile. 

Kirishima’s face is twisted into a pained expression as he regards Katsuki from the bed. Some part of the bitter anger must show on his face. 

“Bakugou, I know you don’t see it now, but it’s going to get better.”

Katsuki can’t hold it back any longer. 

He laughs.

“Really? ‘It gets better’?” He cackles, but the edges are rough and sharp. “You think I haven’t waited for shit to get better? This is how it fucking is, Kirishima. I have felt like this for years-”

Katsuki stands up abruptly, the chair clatters backwards into the desk that he had written his suicide note on. 

“Bakugou,” Kirishima begs, pained. 

“No. I don’t fucking care what you think of me, alright? Call me weak or tell me that I didn’t fucking try hard enough,” he snarls, “but you don’t know anything about me. You have no fucking right-”

“You’re right. I don’t,” Kirishima holds his hands up placatingly, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Katsuki exhales sharply. “Whatever.”

“I don’t think you're weak,” Kirishima tells him firmly. 

Katsuki shrugs. “Sure,” he drawls.

“I don’t.”

“Mmhm. Don’t fucking strain yourself.”

“Oh my god,” Kirishima gapes at him. “Are you serious? You really don’t believe me?”

“Why would I?” 

Kirishima winces, looking sad all of a sudden. “I’m your friend, man. I would never think that about you.”

Katsuki hesitates this time. Kirishima does sound sincere, and they were friends, right? 

“Okay,” he says, even if he’s not actually sure. 

There’s a firm knock at the door, interrupting their conversation. 

Katsuki scoffs, marching over and ripping the door open so aggressively the hinges rattle.

“What the fuck do you want?”

Iida stands in the hall, shifting around like he’s nervous. He clears his throat, probably preparing to make some speech or sympathetic plea. 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Don’t fucking do this, alright? Why don’t you just turn around, walk away, and we can forget you even came here?”

Iida startles, a bit taken aback. “Bakugou, I just wanted to say-”

“I swear to fucking god, Glasses, leave me the fuck alone.” Katsuki growls, tightening his grip on the door.

“Now isn’t really a good time, Iida,” Kirishima appears at Katsuki’s side. 

Iida looks between the both of them. Katsuki can see the gears cranking away in his head. 

“Okay. I hope you’re doing better, Bakugou. It’s good to have you back.” Iida bows and Katsuki snorts. 

“Don’t-”

“Thank you, Iida! We’ll see you in class,” Kirishima cuts in brightly, beginning to close the door. 

Katsuki releases his grip, allowing Kirishima to take over. 

Fucking Christ, he was eager. It’s not like Katsuki wanted to deal with the class president right now, either. That fucking guy had a stick up his ass 24/7. 

“Oh, okay!” 

The door closes, shutting Iida out. 

Kirishima sighs heavily before leveling a stare at Katsuki. “He means well.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to hear it.”

“Okay. Sure.” Kirishima walks back over to the bed. 

“I have to get ready for class,” Katsuki begins, glaring at Kirishima pointedly.

“We change in front of each other like every day, man,” Kirishima complains. 

Katsuki squints, but Kirishima doesn’t look like he’s any closer to leaving. In fact, kicking Kirishima out would take more time than Katsuki has to spare. 

In the end, he just sighs and waves over his shoulder tiredly. “Don’t be a fucking creep.”

Katsuki can almost hear Kirishima smile, although his back is to the other boy. 

He changes quickly, tossing his books in his school bag. He avoids the bathroom, not willing to see if Aizawa had moved the medications yet or not. No other reason, because Katsuki wasn’t weak. He just didn’t want to deal with memories. 

When they leave Katsuki’s room, the hallway isn’t empty. The rest of the squad is there, all gathered around like they were waiting for him. 

“Why are you fucking here?” Katsuki asks. 

“We’re here to walk with you to class, silly.” Mina smiles, bouncing up from where she was leaning against the wall.

“We missed you man,” Sero says.

“Where did you go? Kirishima won't spill.” Kaminari asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“None of your fucking business, that’s where.”

“C’mon guys, don’t pester him.” Kirishima tries to intervene.

Katsuki begins to walk away and without fail, they tag along. Mina runs up to his side, throwing him a softer look. 

“We really did miss you, Blasty. I hope everything’s okay.”

“Everything is fine.” 

The words rolled straight off his tongue without any thought. As if he’d actually tell them anything. Even if he wanted to, this was neither the time nor place. 

“We’re here for you if it's ever not fine,” Mina insists.

Katsuki doesn’t bother responding. 

Part of him wants to say it, maybe in some crass or off-handed way that would have them double guessing what exactly Katsuki had said. He pictured telling them some grotesque, overly detailed version of ‘I swallowed a shit ton of pills’. They probably wouldn’t believe him at first. Katsuki would probably have taken that opening, switching around to sneer at them, ‘It’s just a joke’. To which they would dissolve into relief, slapping his shoulder and laughing nervously, ‘Don’t joke about that’.

Isn’t that how it always went? 

Katsuki wouldn’t though. The moment had already passed, and here he was, still thinking over what he would have said. It was too late. 

The rest of the walk to the homeroom is filled with their chatter. Mina drops back to argue with Sero about the merits of the blue shell in Mario Kart. Kirishima sticks himself firmly at Katsuki’s side and doesn’t budge until they have to split to sit down in their respective seats. Even then, Katsuki can see Kirishima casting him looks from the corner of his eye.

Izuku finally wanders in, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with him. Katsuki fights back the urge to trip him when he walks by. He’s better than that, now. But damn, the payback would’ve been sweet.

Izuku doesn’t say a word to him, and Katsuki doesn’t bother with his usual grouchy comments. They both ignore the other’s existence entirely, something which is quickly picked up on by their classmates surrounding them.

Aizawa wanders in just before the bell rings. 

Katsuki finds it hard to focus on the classes he sits through today. Not that his attention span had been anything to brag about of late, but he managed a bit better than this. His mind kept drifting away from the equations or English grammar to knives and puddles of blood. 

Katsuki was on edge. 

The only thing keeping him sane was the low, almost indistinguishable muttering of Izuku behind him. There was something familiar in the drone of sound that kept Katsuki with one foot firmly in this reality. 

He would never admit it to Izuku, and Izuku would never comment on it. 

Eventually, it's time for their Heroics class. Aizawa pulls him aside before Katsuki can escape to the locker rooms. 

“No gauntlets, today.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Katsuki hisses. “I’m not some invalid.”

“Kid, don’t argue with me on this.”

“What the hell am I supposed to say when people ask me about it, huh? Oh, I’m such a fucking danger to myself-”

“Katsuki,” Aizawa cuts in, exasperated. “If any of your classmates ask, you could always say they’re getting repaired. Frankly, it’s not any of their business.”

“You fucking know how they are,” Katsuki grumbles, scowling at the floor. “They’re fucking nosy. Besides, I’m fine. Why can’t you just-”

“I’m not going to budge on this.”

“God. Alright.”

Katsuki tells them exactly that once Kaminari pops the question from across the locker room.

“And don’t fucking stare at me, you fucking creep,” Katsuki complains.

Kirishima’s lips twitch into a smile. “C’mon Denki, leave the man alone.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “You lot are fucking nosy.”

When they gather around outside, the girls’ eyes drift to Katsuki’s gauntlet-less arms. They don’t have the balls to confront him, however, unlike the electric idiot. Katsuki wrestles with the urge to squirm under the extra attention. 

The lack of gauntlets is screaming, ‘Yes! Something is wrong with me!’ 

Today, Aizawa and Midnight are leading the Heroics class. 

Midnight claps her hands together, the sound halting all conversations as class 1-A focuses on their teachers. 

“Good afternoon! Let’s get right into it. Recently we’ve covered basic combat and hand to hand techniques. Today we’ll be putting those into practice.” Midnight cocked her hip, scanning over the class. “We’ll be splitting you up into four different groups of five. Each group will face each other. One will be a villain team, another the hero team. During this exercise, you will be aiming to take out your opposing group. That means incapacitating them.”

Iida raises his hand. “Midnight-sensei, what counts as incapacitating?”

“Good question. Standard rules apply here. Restraining your opponent, if your opponent cannot fight any longer, or if your opponent is against a move that would be fatal. Obviously, students, we do not want any of you executing these maneuvers if they would seriously injure or maim during a fight. So, if you find yourself on the receiving end of a technique that would do this, tap out. There is no shame in tapping out. If you do not tap out, whether that be verbally or physically tapping out, we will make that decision for you. Am I clear?”

The class speaks in a jumbled response of, “Yes, sensei.”

Midnight nods sharply. “Good. Erasurehead has the list of which groups you will find yourself in. Erasure?”

Aizawa steps forward, producing a folded bit of paper from his pocket. “Alright, when I call your name, go ahead and stand off to the side with your group. In group one: Shoji, Asui, Sato, Midoriya and Bakugou.”

Katsuki suddenly feels like skipping out on class. He doesn’t look at fucking Izuku as he trudges over to where the others are beginning to group up. Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest and pastes his typical everyday scowl on his face. 

“Group one will be up against group three, and group two will be against group four. Groups two and four, you’ll be graded by Midnight. Groups one and three, I’ll be watching you.”

Katsuki looks over to survey group three. It’s a decent mix- Koda, Sero, Kirishima, Iida and Uraraka. 

“You will have five minutes to briefly discuss a plan,” Aizawa calls out. “Starting now.”

Katsuki huffed and reluctantly turned back towards his group. 

“What are you guys thinking?” Sato asked.

“Midoriya, or er- Bakugou, do either of you guys have a plan?” Shoji turned to look at both of them.

“I don’t fucking care,” Katsuki growled. 

Izuku quickly took charge, stepping forward. “I have a plan.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched. 

Of course the fucking nerd had a plan. Katsuki didn’t know which was worse- going along with Izuku’s plan or proposing one of his own just to argue it out with Izuku regardless. 

Katsuki ground his toe in the dirt. 

“-without Kacchan’s gauntlets, so we need to replace the loss of firepower.” 

Katsuki grit his teeth, raising his head to glare openly at Izuku. 

Izuku didn’t even falter, or look his way for that matter, instead he continued on over-explaining what was really a simple fucking plan. It wasn’t that hard to just say the basics, but no, Izuku just had to ramble on and one about why Shoji needed to stay back, and why fucking Katsuki was weaker now. 

What a fucking asshole. The longer Izuku talked, the more Katsuki wanted to punch him in the fucking face. 

Asui and Izuku would be leading the infiltration into enemy territory, which would double as a distraction as Sato would be working more as a lone agent. This left Katsuki behind to guard Shoji as he located each of their opponents. Katsuki would pass along the message by shooting targeted blasts in the direction of each enemy.

Fucking simple. It utilized the obvious strengths of their inherent quirks, but clearly, Katsuki was such a loose cannon he needed to be watched by fucking Shoji. 

“I’m not staying back,” Katsuki protested hotly. “Fuck that shit, fucking Octupus Arms over here can guard his own ass.”

“Bakugou-” Asui started.

“I can,” Shoji confirmed quickly, “but it would be difficult to break away if I needed to fight. How would I signal to you all anyhow?”

“You would hear them coming,” Katsuki pointed out. “Or fucking see them. I don’t fucking know, shout or something.”

Izuku frowned. “Kacchan, maybe you should-”

“You shut the fuck up, Deku.” Katsuki narrowed his eyes. “I’m joining Sato, end of story.”

Izuku scowled at the use of his old nickname. 

“I could tag along behind you guys. It would make it harder for the other team to track me.”

Katsuki snorted. “There you fucking go.”

“Kacchan-”

“Time’s up,” Aizawa called out. “Head to your designated starting points. You have two minutes and I start the timer whether you’re there or not.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but began a light jog with his group to their location. 

“Are you sure-” Izuku muttered to him as they jogged side by side.

“One more fucking word out of your mouth and I’ll put you in the goddamn infirmary.”

Izuku peeled away without another word. 

Good. Hopefully he picked up the obvious ‘get the fuck away from me’ vibes Katsuki was throwing his way. 

Izuku was such a fucking dumbass sometimes. Like, yeah the fucking idiot was going to make some stupid ass speech about staying away from Katsuki and then still come up and try to talk to him? Fucking asshole. 

And putting him in the fucking back with Shoji, who could so clearly take care of himself?

Katsuki was fucking seething with rage. Sparks flew off his hands as he made his way to the starting point with the rest of his fucking group. 

Katsuki was about two seconds away from losing his fucking shit, saying to hell with it, and bombing the entire training grounds. That would count as a win, probably. To him at least. Aizawa would probably be pissed.

They reached the location just as Aizawa gave the signal to begin. Izuku and Asui split off immediately to the left, while Katsuki snatched the lead and bounded off to the right. He didn’t bother to check if Sato was following him. 

Sure enough, Sato appears up on his right and pops a sugar cube in his mouth. 

“You’re on edge today,” Sato points out. “Everything okay?”

“Just fucking peachy.” 

Katsuki scanned the street they were running through. There wasn’t a sound or sight out of place. The lack of anything left Katsuki on guard.

He needed this. Katsuki just wanted everything to go back to normal. The quickest way to do that was to win this fight. He’d prove to everyone that he was capable, that he was past everything, that he was fucking strong. 

He wasn't weak.

Katsuki was going to blow this fight to dust, and they wouldn’t doubt that he was strong. Katsuki was fine. He was perfectly fucking fine. 

Yeah, these past couple days threw him off his game but he’d bounce back just like he always did.

(Even if he didn’t want to.)

Katsuki was fine.

“Who do you think we’ll run into first?” Sato grunts as he peers round a corner.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “I don’t fucking know. Does it matter?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Bakugou! Sato!” Shoji called out as he bounded towards them from a side alley.

“Where?” Katsuki demanded. 

Thank god, these past couple minutes were lasting for fucking ever.

“Two streets over, northwest,” Shoji relayed.

Katsuki immediately took off, his muscles coiled and raring for a fight. 

He was strong. He was capable. He was fine.

“It’s Sero and Uraraka!” Sato caught up to him again, repeating the information. “Why’d you take off so fast? Shoji wasn’t finished.”

“Listen, let’s talk about this later. Right now, we have a fucking fight to finish,” Katsuki whispered harshly. “And keep it the fuck down, they’re nearby.”

“Didn’t know you even understood the meaning of the word ‘quiet’,” Sato replied snarkily, albeit at a much lower volume. “What’s the plan?”

Katsuki huffed a quiet breath, choosing to ignore the quip at this moment. He could get revenge for that later. Right now, they need to focus on the fight.

“Do we fucking need one?”

“Bakugou, literally everything you’ve done today is concerning me. You always have a plan, even if you’re very aggressive about how you say it.”

Katsuki bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. “Look, fine. I’ll take Uraraka, you fucking deal with Sero. You’re strong enough to rip through his tape, aren’t you?”

Sato nodded, munching on another sugar cube. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

“You fucking idiot, of fucking course-”

Katsuki doesn’t bother finishing that statement as he charges into the intersection.

Uraraka hears them first, whirling around and readying her hands into fists in front of her.

“Sero, behind!”

Sato bursts forth past Katsuki, evading Uraraka’s outstretched fingers to engage Sero. Katsuki sends a focused blast towards Uraraka’s feet, but she nimbly slaps her own chest, rising quickly above to avoid the blast. 

Still, the resounding force drives her further up than she planned and Katsuki promptly releases twin blasts to rocket himself into the air. 

Evading her fingers- Shigaraki was going to fucking kill him- Katsuki twists to the left, sending an instinctual kick to her head. He has to shake his head to dispel the image of pale, spindly fingers reaching to decay him to absolutely nothing.

What the fuck was wrong with his head today?

Uraraka appears too close, too fast, and Katsuki dodges her blows sloppily. The game has switched, now it's Uraraka on the offensive and Katsuki narrowly avoiding her attacks.

That didn’t take long, Katsuki realized, annoyed. 

“You’re off your game, Bakugou!” Uraraka cries out, an excited smile pasted to her face. 

“Fuck off,” Katsuki growls, risking his flight to send a blast her way. 

It catches her shoulder as Katsuki drops a couple feet in the sky. She spins away, releasing her quirk and catching herself as she aims for the ground. Katsuki follows. He reaches the pavement first, using this advantage to send another explosion towards her chest. This time, she avoids it by spinning her body to the side. 

She laughs a little-

Toga grins. “We’re having so much fun, Kacchan!” 

The scissors are held loosely between her fingers. Her tongue darts out, licking up a droplet of blood that had splattered on her cheek. 

“Mmm,” Togu hums, eyes slipping shut as she revels in the taste of his blood. “You taste delicious, Kacchan. Kind of smoky-”

Toga’s eyes pop open and she laughs. 

Katsuki wants to scream, he wants to throw his body against the chains until his arms are ripped from their sockets, he wants to do anything to escape, but Toga continues to laugh and laugh and laugh.

Katsuki is frozen in fear, held by thick, iron chains, and he cannot go anywhere.

Gravity slips away from him, and Katsuki’s breath halts in his chest as the ground disappears from beneath his feet.

“Gotcha!”

A triumphant smile flashes in front of his face, and Katsuki doesn’t dare move a muscle, because any moment now Toga is going to fucking-

Tape binds his arms and legs together, or is it fucking chains? Katsuki trembles, reaching for explosions to burn the sticky tape away, but they fucking suppressed his quirk hadn’t they?

Someone’s yelling from somewhere close by, and Katsuki realizes they might be trying to fucking kill him this time. They had been holding off, they had played around with his muscles and tendons and veins but now the time was up. Toga had held off for long enough, he couldn’t move an inch with these chains, she going to fucking kill him-

Katsuki calls up the strongest explosion he can muster.

BOOM.

The pure, undiluted force of the blast drives Katsuki against the wall. Heat and sound collide around him, dancing across his skin. Plastic melts and burns itself into his flesh. 

When the light dies down, fading to smoke, Katsuki blinks against the sting in his eyes. There’s a sharp ringing in his ear driving him mad, and his forearms ache from the magnitude of the explosion. He slides down the wall, barely catching his tired body with smaller blasts before he crashes messily into the concrete.

There’s a chemical smell drifting within the smoke, something burnt and awful. Katsuki doesn’t recognize any of the hazy outlines surrounding him. What fucking city is he in? Is the League dead, or are they wandering around the smoke searching for him?

Katsuki wraps his arms around his chest and coughs the smoke away. It burns, everything burns, and Katsuki hurts. 

Nothing is making sense. 

“-kugou!” Someone yells from somewhere farther away in the dissipating smoke. 

Katsuki bolts before reality can crash into him. Or, he tries to, but his legs are shaking so badly and Katsuki is so confused, he stumbles around a corner instead as his legs struggle to hold him. 

Katsuki’s mind is hazy like the smoke he drifts through. 

The League must be out here. Katsuki must’ve fought, by some grace of god, and he was escaping. But the words felt wrong. It didn’t seem to fit, and the buildings didn’t look familiar to Kamino- how did Katsuki know he was being kept in Kamino again? Had Toga let it slip? Or Dabi?

That doesn’t sound right. 

Katsuki frowns, slumping into the wall as he tries to catch his breath. He coughs against the smoke, the burning, harsh sting of it roughly assaulting his throat. Katsuki’s legs finally buckle beneath him and he’s left choking on air as he slams into the ground. His back is pressed against the gritty brick wall, scraping his spine as he struggles through breaths. 

Fuck. Fuck, why did he feel so fucking floaty all of a sudden?

A hulking figure appears in Katsuki’s peripheral, jogging closer. 

It’s not Magne. It couldn’t be Toga, Dabi or Shigaraki. Or the fucking Compress guy, or Twice, unless Twice was taking the form of someone else-

“Bakugou! Are you okay?” 

Sato. Oh thank god, Katsuki had backup here. He wasn’t alone.

Katsuki claws at his throat, still trying to fucking breathe.

“Okay man, it’s okay, just take a minute,” Sato says, although he sounds a little freaked out. “What’s wrong?”

Katsuki shakes his head. Everything is spinning, and he still can't fucking breathe. Now Sato is freaked out and Katsuki knows something is very, very wrong.

He can’t do anything as spots of darkness swarm his vision, as his heart slams frantically against his ribs, because suddenly Katsuki is falling forward.

When he opens his eyes, Sato is still there, clutching the fabric of his uniform. His brows are creased, eyes wide and wild, and his mouth is moving but it takes a second for the sound to register in Katsuki’s ears.

“-say something, please!”

“Hrgh,” Katsuki moans. 

“Oh thank god.”

Katsuki’s whole body aches. Certain spots stand out more than others, a sharper kind of ache that Katsuki can only associate with a burn. He doesn’t remember what he would’ve gotten burned by, but the throbbing of his hands and forearms tells him it may have been himself. 

Which, oof, fucking embarrassing. Katsuki hadn't accidentally burned himself in so long, so why would he have done it today? What the fuck happened?

“I knew something was off,” Sato lamented. 

“What happened?” Katsuki asked hoarsely. He reached up to rub his throat, which was sore. Everything was so fucking confusing.

Sato grimaced, and when Katsuki looked up, the expression on Sato’s face was a mixture of worry, panic and concern. 

“You were freaking out,” Sato began slowly, as if he were afraid Katsuki was going to blast him for speaking. “Uraraka hit you with her quirk-”

And suddenly it all comes rushing back.

The fight, the sudden loss of gravity, and Sero’s tape binding him to the wall. And of course, Katsuki completely forgetting he was in a goddamn training exercise and thinking he was back with the League.

“Oh,” Katsuki said, feeling completely lost and not entirely himself. “That’s right.”

“Bakugou, what happened?”

Katsuki stares at the ground between his legs. Something trickles from his nose and a splash of blood splatters on the concrete. He reaches up with hesitant fingers to wipe it away. 

There’s no explanation he can give, no string of words that could possibly make sense. Katsuki was a fucking mess and there’s nothing anyone could do about it. First the League tore him up and spit him out, then there was his own mother who shattered the skeleton of his remaining image, and finally Katsuki himself, by swallowing pills by the handful with the desperation of a dying man. 

There was no fixing this, there was no triumphant comeback, there was nothing. Katsuki was a broken fucking wreck, and everyone around him realized it. They all saw the ruins that remained of him, the charred, fractured form that moved and talked like Katsuki, all the while looking a bit rundown, but how could this ever be him? 

Katsuki chuckled, and Sato startled back at the broken sound.

“Fuck me,” Katsuki gasped between frantic laughter.

“B-Bakugou?” Sato leaned back, afraid of this mess of a human in front of him. 

Katsuki turned to look at him, and smiles bloodily, “I’m a fucking mess, aren’t I?”

Sato appears truly unnerved, but says nothing. 

There was nothing to say.

Katsuki throws his head back and howls.

Chapter Text

When Aizawa showed up, Katsuki was splayed flat out on gritty concrete, staring up at the sky. Sato was kneeling uselessly by his side. He hadn’t known what to say then as Katsuki lost his mind, and he didn’t know how to even begin to explain the situation to Aizawa now. 

“Sato, you can regroup with the others at the starting point,” Aizawa dismissed the other boy first. 

Sato nodded, glancing back to Katsuki with a worried expression. Neither of them spoke a word, however, and Sato left without much fanfare.

Aizawa- or now that they were alone- Shota, reached out to place a hand on Katsuki’s shoulder. 

“Katsuki?”

Katsuki couldn’t hold anything back for another second. This body felt secondary to him, like a separate skin, and it did not belong to him any more than the ground he laid on. The memories rolled and collided with each other in his head. Sometimes he thought he heard Toga’s laugh, or saw Dabi’s cruel smile. 

“I think-” Katsuki’s voice cracked, from the smoke or the weight of what he was going to admit, he did not know. “I think there is something seriously wrong with me.”

Reality wove itself around his eyes and Shigaraki peered down at him, frustrated, and he sneered, “You broke him, Toga.”

Katsuki wheezed, his lungs rattling and dispelling the image. Shota’s face appeared above him instead, expression pinched and warped. 

“Katsuki.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled out of him. “I’m fucked for the rest of my life,” he whispered honestly. “It’ll never get better than this. This is how I am. This is me.”

“Katsuki,” Shota tried for the third time. Katsuki listened, he turned his head and quieted the desperate truths attempting to escape. “It won’t always be like this. I know things are very difficult right now. You are dealing with so much, more than we know, I imagine, but healing takes time. You won’t be able to just push this aside. Once you feel it, and process it, you can move on.”

“I don’t think I can move on from this,” Katsuki admitted. “It feels like the end, you know? Like there’s nowhere to go but here.”

“You can. You’re the strongest person I know, Katsuki. It’s going to take time. It won’t happen suddenly, but slowly, and one day you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come.”

“People always say that, you know? It gets better. But it never fucking does.”

“You have to put the work in, first. It won’t get better if you don’t do anything to fix it-”

“I did! I fucking did things to try and make it better. Nothing fucking worked,” Katsuki scowled. 

Shota smiled, although it was strained and seemed a bit exasperated. “It takes time, kiddo.”

“I gave it time,” Katsuki mutters petulantly. 

“Give it more time, then.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything in reply. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, focusing on the rough feel of the concrete beneath his body. 

It feels like they are saying nothing and everything all at once. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened here or at home?”

“Do we have to talk about it at all?”

“Yes,” Shota said firmly, but his voice was soft. “We do.”

Katsuki cracked his eyes open. “I can’t talk about this.”

“Can’t, or you don’t want to?”

“Can’t. I don’t- it doesn’t make sense, even to me. I can’t fucking explain this shit to someone else.”

“I think we should see if Hound Dog has any open availability sooner.”

Katsuki groaned. “Oh c’mon. You’re really going to pull out the fucking shrink?”

“Katsuki.”

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t want to talk here,” Katsuki says, because calling Shota’s apartment home feels too soon. And weird.

“Alright.”

When Shota stands up, his knees pop and the sound almost causes Katsuki to break out in laughter again. He smothers it, if only so Shota doesn’t entirely see this mentally raw, tormented version of him. Not in all of its shitty glory. 

Shota offers him a hand, which Katsuki moves to ignore until pushing himself up causes an episode of dizziness that tosses his vision around and around. 

Shota hauls Katsuki to his feet.

“What about the others?” Katsuki asks, referring to his classmates.

“Midnight has it handled,” Shota explains. 

Katsuki huffs, wrapping his arms around his body. “Which means?”

“They’re out of the way and won’t see a thing,” Shota confirms.

“Why didn’t you just fucking say that in the first place?”

Shota ignores him this time, only throwing an exasperated look over his shoulder. Katsuki follows him as they wind through the empty streets of Ground Beta. 

“How many know?” Katsuki asks, feeling a sense of deja vu in the way he poses the question. It seems he has been asking this way too many times recently. 

“Sato. The rest may have an idea, but they don’t know for sure. Uraraka and Sero have a better idea than the rest, but I don’t think they saw anything through the smoke.”

“I need this to stop happening,” Katsuki grumbles. 

Shota quirks an eyebrow. “Healing doesn’t happen overnight. You have to be honest with everyone and yourself, kid. Get it all out.”

Does Shota know that Katsuki isn’t being honest about the League? Katsuki tries to get a good read on him from the corner of his eye, but Shota doesn’t look any different from normal. Maybe Katsuki is just being paranoid. 

It would help- or maybe it wouldn’t? It feels like Toga and the League happened yesterday, but it has been a couple months now. Time felt frozen. Katsuki tried to convince himself that he had moved on, but somehow time was slipping through his fingers against his awareness. 

Katsuki should be fine, he thinks. And yet, here he was, losing his marbles over nothing. A laugh. A fucking laugh that sounded nothing like her, but still, Katsuki had been so completely convinced he had almost killed everyone nearby in his panic. 

It felt shameful admitting to everything now. Katsuki prided himself in honesty, but his entire life was built from shams and lies. 

There was the version of Bakugou Katsuki everyone assumed him to be- brash, loud, probably a bit egotistical. Brutally honest, often skipping over the line into rudeness. 

Then there were the truths hidden between his youthful anger and cruel words- the overly cautious, watchful version of him that interpreted everything as an attack. The one who panicked at the smallest, insignificant thing. The part of him that carried all of his heavy burdens, who twisted the fault to lie at his own feet, who burned and burned and burned until nothing was left. 

Everytime Katsuki had shared these terrible truths in the past, something bad happened afterward. Although sometimes he never had the opportunity to share them in confidence, instead they were torn from him- painfully and bloody. 

But here was his teacher turned guardian, asking for that trust, for that confidence, and Katsuki had none to give. 

Katsuki had already given it all away, and it had been stolen or returned in pieces. He scoffed at the idea of vulnerability. Katsuki built his walls around the avoidance of being perceived as weak and never allowed anyone inside. 

Izuku had been allowed in, only because he had already been inside when Katsuki had carefully constructed these walls. Even then, Katsuki had kept Izuku from some things. 

Even at his most open, Katsuki had hallways of locked doors. 

Katsuki is so lost inside of his thoughts, he doesn’t realize when they’ve crossed the threshold from the training ground to the main campus. He startles at the loud screech of a bird, nearly leaping off the path before he grabs ahold of himself. 

“Are you alright, kid?” 

Katsuki pinches the skin on his bicep again. The pain is sharp, leading him back to his body and the present in a way Katsuki never managed on his own. 

“Yeah,” he says absentmindedly.

Warm, calloused fingers gently take his hand away. Katsuki blinks, staring down at Shota’s hands. They are nicked with scars all over, every shape and size blending into skin.

“Don’t do that,” Shota chides; worry swimming in his eyes.

“I’m fine,” Katsuki replies automatically. 

The words don’t quite fit, however, and Shota frowns in their wake.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Shota says. He’s asking why without forming the question, making an observation and prodding Katsuki to explain. 

Katsuki’s brain feels a step behind, and he forgets why or what he’s attempting to explain. 

“Whatever.”

Shota opens his mouth as if to speak, then closes it again and stares at Katsuki for a minute longer. 

“You’re going to stay the night with us, kid.”

“Okay.”

Shota frowns again, deeper still. “Katsuki-” he tries, but then he stops. Shota sighs and asks, “Do you want to grab anything from your room?”

Katsuki knows he’s falling into that same rut again, the same heavy weight that has always dragged him under, but he is helpless as always to stop it. 

He could think of a couple things- his toothbrush, or shampoo, or mouthwash. The thought of walking to the dorms and facing his classmates for the second time that day is reason enough to avoid grabbing them. Katsuki may feel disgusting later on, but even the thought of going through the motions of brushing his teeth felt tiring. 

Katsuki could always borrow a spare from Shota or Hizashi, they probably kept some under the sink. Asking felt like overstepping; there was a layer of comfortability that Katsuki hadn’t managed yet, but this depression would force him into someone he wasn’t.

“No.”

They don’t speak again as Shota holds the door open to Recovery Girl’s office. Katsuki walks mutely inside, settling gingerly on the edge of a cot. 

Recovery Girl bustles in, tutting and fretting over him as Katsuki sits there blankly. She’s speaking to Shota, asking questions and examining him, even as Katsuki says next to nothing. He lifts his limbs when she asks, turns this way and that, and gives her a better view of some of the shiny new burns decorating his forearms. Quick, simple words fall from his lips when prompted.

Katsuki simply exists.

Recovery Girl smacks a kiss on his shoulder. Fresh, pink skin knits over his burned marks. A tingly feeling spreads throughout his entire body, leaving a heavy weight of fatigue behind. 

Reaching back into awareness seems monumental. Katsuki pushes it off, floating a tiny bit further and further away even as Shota guides him from the room.

Katsuki realizes quite belatedly he’s still in his hero costume as they reach the locker room. He stares at the door blankly for a minute.

“Are you okay, Katsuki?”

“Fine,” Katsuki says without thinking. 

He sighs deeply, letting all of the air collapse from his tired lungs, and momentarily it touches the hole inside of his chest. 

“Katsuki, are you-”

“Yes,” he drags the word from his throat. 

Katsuki opens the door like Shota expects him too and walks inside. 

Honestly, Katsuki’s mind does not feel one with his body. When he walks inside, he knows distantly that it's with the expectation that Katsuki will change out of his hero costume. He also expects the locker room to be empty. 

This is not the case.

Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero turn to him with wide eyes. They share a guilty look on their faces, like they’ve been caught in the middle of something they should not be doing, but Katsuki doesn’t have the mind nor energy to deal with it. 

Instead, Katsuki just walks tiredly to his locker and begins removing his costume. Which, to be fair, isn’t it the wrong word to use? Uniform is more likely. Hero uniform.

“Bakugou-”

“Shouldn’t we call this a uniform?” Katsuki says quickly. “Like, instead of a hero costume, it should be our uniform, right?”

A tense silence stretches onward.

Katsuki squints down at the tank top that he just slipped off his body, rolling the fabric between his fingers. It feels real, and solid. Katsuki must be here. He must be present in this moment because there are people that know him, that know him well, and he cannot make a fool of himself in front of them. 

“Are you okay, man?” A voice slips in between the noise of his thoughts, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Katsuki turns, and he’s greeted by red hair and creased brows. 

“What?” He doesn’t remember what they said. 

“Bakugou, are you okay? Should we get Aizawa?”

Katsuki feels really loose, like he fits over his own skin a couple sizes too big. He knows these people are his friends, but the words he’s saying don’t feel like ones he’s supposed to share right now. 

“No,” he said simply. 

They frowned. “What’s wrong with you, man?”

“Bakugou? Er- Bakugou?” 

Katsuki blinked, focusing on the hand waving in front of his face. Following the waving fingers to the arm, and then the attached shoulder, Katsuki found Kaminari staring at him with a pinched expression. 

“What?”

Katsuki could feel his throat shift. He felt the air rise from his lungs, and his vocal cords twinge to form the sounds, but it wasn’t him talking. Every action felt mechanical. They sprouted from memory, the words he spoke were a reflexive response while his mind drifted somewhere nearby.

The world shifted and wavered like a television screen. This wasn’t real. None of this felt real.

Was Katsuki in a video game? Or was this just a dream? 

This wasn’t real- Katsuki wasn’t real. 

“Bakugou.”

Katsuki realized they were still here. 

“Yeah?” His voice rang around distantly. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Kirishima asked.

Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero share a look as Katsuki tries to figure out what the fuck is going on. 

They asked if he was okay. Right. Checking in. Watching him. They were watching him. 

“Okay.”

“Dude, are you even-“ Kaminari waves his hand in front of Katsuki’s nose. “Yeah, no. Should we get Aizawa?”

“He’ll chew us out if we get Aizawa,” Sero muttered.

Aizawa. Shota. 

Wait no-

“I’m fine.”

“You are definitely not fine, bro.” Kirishima says.

“Don’t get Aizawa,” Katsuki tried instead. 

They all look at each other again before Kirishima carefully spearheads the conversation. “Bakugou, you’ve been off all day. We called your name like five times and you didn’t even look at us.”

“Right,” Katsuki reaches out to violently twist his skin, and the sharp stab of pain drags his mind closer to his body.

“Dude-“ Kaminari grabs his hand, taking it away from his bicep. “Don’t do that, please.”

“I need my fucking clothes,” Katsuki grumbles. 

The top part of his hero costume is off, still held in his left hand. Katsuki is currently shirtless, with the others crowding around close by. His locker is open, his school uniform and spare workout clothes are folded in their proper places. 

“Okay you’re seriously freaking me out,” Kaminari frets. 

“Bakugou, can you look at me?”

Katsuki turns to look at Kirishima, who’s studying his face with the same intense look as when he’s cramming for a test in the final five minutes before class. 

“Is this-“ he hesitates, rolling his lips between sharp teeth as he ponders what to say next. “Is this related to what happened Sunday?”

Kirishima's voice drops low when he asks the question, but it's fruitless, as Kaminari and Sero immediately frown. 

“What happened Sunday?” Sero asks. 

Katsuki’s mood instantly sours. He scowls, and the fog clinging to his brain begins to fade. 

“No,” he snaps. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Bakugou-“

“It’s fine. Everything is fucking fine.”

“Except that it's obviously not,” Kaminari retorts. “You always push us away, dude. We’re just trying to be here for you, and help you-“

“You’re not helping,” Katsuki hisses.

“You won’t let us,” Sero points out. “We just want to help you through whatever is going on. No, before you say anything, we know something is going on. You can’t deny it, alright? We just don’t want you to go through this alone.”

“Seriously, dude, we’re worried about you. Kirishima knows something, but he won’t tell us anything. I respect that, but it's really hard seeing you like this. I know you don’t trust easily, but you can trust us, Bakugou. Whatever this is, we’re here for you.”

Katsuki cracks his knuckles, eyeing the two idiots carefully. Like always, they look overwhelmingly honest and genuine. 

“They won’t judge you, Bakugou,” Kirishima adds softly, as if picking up on Katsuki’s crumbling defenses. “They’re not going to say anything, either.”

Some part of him really wants to say it, too. Just spit out this thing that’s been twisting and tearing him up, spew it onto the floor and get it out. 

But fucking shit, it is so hard to even think of the words to say. Katsuki realizes, like he’s been doing a bit today, that he can’t hide this much longer. People are noticing something is wrong with him. Katsuki isn’t hiding anything at this point. 

His body sags, and Katsuki slumps against the lockers with a heavy sigh. 

“I fucked up,” Katsuki begins, because he doesn’t know what words to say. 

His friends circle nearby, staying quiet and allowing him the space to talk. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry if it seemed like we were pushing you, we’re just really worried. You don’t have to say anything.” Sero says as Katsuki's growing discomfort becomes obvious.

“No,” Katsuki says. He takes a deep breath to gather himself, even as anxiety eats away at his stomach. “I- you should know, I guess.”

Still, the words are hard to find and even harder to say. 

“Does it have to do with the League?” Kaminari asks.

At the mention of the League, Katsuki can’t suppress the reactive full body flinch that has even Kirishima frowning. 

“No- or yes,” Katsuki winces. “I don’t know. Kind of.”

Katsuki tilts his head back. The tiled ceiling is flat and disinteresting. Still, there’s a tiny crack along the edge between the wall and ceiling that Katsuki finds his eyes drawn to. 

It’s during this moment, while his eyes and focus are somewhere else, that the words finally free themselves from his lips.

“I tried to fucking kill myself.”

Shame burns hot across his face, and Katsuki quickly looks down at his shoe instead, not willing to risk catching any of their eyes. 

“I-“ his voice cracks, and Katsuki inhales deeply, air shuddering in and out of his lungs. “It didn’t work, obviously. Fucking Izu- Deku found me.”

“What?” Kaminari’s voice trembles. “You- you-“

Katsuki clicks his tongue against his teeth. “It is what it fucking is.”

“You’re doing better now, though, right?” Sero questions, tears welling in his eyes. 

Katsuki quickly looks away. “I’m fucking alive, aren’t I?” 

“But that’s not-“

“It is what it fucking is,” Katsuki insists. 

“Why?” Kaminari asks. 

“Why what?”

“Why did you- was it because of the League?” Katsuki doesn’t flinch this time, but something must show on his face because Kaminari immediately back tracks and apologizes. “Sorry, I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine.” Katsuki shifts around.

“But why?”

“Denki, maybe we shouldn’t-“

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” Katsuki snorts, full of bitter anger. “I wanted to fucking die.”

They collectively recoil at the sharp note of aggression curling around his voice. 

Sero and Kirishima look like they’ve swallowed a lemon filled with nails. 

Kaminari is still flailing about, confusion and denial rippling across his features. “But- but- you’re so, I mean-“

“Denki.” Kirishima warns him.

“My mom-“ Katsuki stops, shaking his head to dispel the thoughts gathering there. “Never mind.”

Kirishima looks over, face twisting into pity. “She did something. Midoriya said-“

“I don’t care what the fucking nerd said. He’s wrong.” Katsuki snarls.

Kirishima’s brows furrowed. “Bakugou, it sounded like-“

“Well, he’s a fucking liar.”

Kaminari and Sero are watching the display, eyes flickering back and forth between Katsuki and Kirishima. 

“What are you talking about?” Sero cuts in, staring Kirishima down.

Kirishima falters, glancing at Katsuki and biting his lip. “I-“

“Fucking drop it, alright?”

“What’s wrong with your mom?” Kaminari insists, leaning forward. “Bakugou-“

“I said fucking drop it, alright?” Katsuki growls. “Deku doesn’t know what the fuck he’s on about. He doesn’t understand shit.”

“He picked up on what was going on pretty fast,” Kirishima says, even as he avoids Katsuki’s intense gaze. The red haired boy fiddles around with the string on his hoodie as he speaks, low and careful. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if Midoriya didn’t realize what was going on.”

Silence stretches onward. 

Sero swallows heavily. “H-how bad was it?”

They’re no longer talking to him, they’re talking about him, while Katsuki is standing in front of them. He watches each of those fuckers avoid his eyes, all nerves and shaky confidence. 

Katsuki digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of his palms. Shame and embarrassment coil in his gut. 

This. This was what he hated. Katsuki never wanted any of them to see this part of him. He wanted no one to see it. No one ever understood, and Katsuki couldn’t face it. 

“Fuck you,” he whispers. 

Katsuki hates himself all over again when Kirishima finally meets his eye with tears dripping down his face.

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima says, although he doesn’t sound very sorry.

Sero and Kaminari seem to understand exactly how bad it was. 

“Oh.” Kaminari chokes out. 

Sero is sitting there, silent and utterly still as his friends struggle to pull themselves together.

I hate myself. I fucking hate myself. Oh my god, I am such a fucking piece of shit.

“I’m fucking fine,” Katsuki insists. 

Just not because I want to be, he doesn’t say.

It doesn’t really matter if Katsuki holds that part back, because the expression written across Kirishima’s face tells the others exactly what Katsuki is thinking. 

“I’m really happy you’re alive,” Kaminari tells him.

Katsuki says nothing. What do you say to someone who is crying in front of you, expressing their gratitude that you failed in killing yourself? Katsuki didn’t want to lie, he didn’t want to paste a fake fucking smile and say ‘me too.’ 

Katsuki couldn’t. 

Instead, Katsuki stood there, numb, empty and quiet. 

Kaminari continued to cry. 

Sero was thinking beyond, however. “Today,” he began cautiously. “You weren’t okay.”

Katsuki wasn’t sure whether to deny or accept that statement. Before he could settle on the proper response, the prolonged silence spoke for him.

Sero nodded absentmindedly. 

“What happened?” Kirishima questioned.

Kaminari sniffled, pulling himself together enough to tune back into the conversation.

“Nothing happened,” Katsuki insisted.

Sero frowned. “Bakugou.”

“Everything is fucking fine, alright?”

“It’s not fine. You’re definitely not fine.”

“Dude, what happened during training today?” Kaminari asked. “Sato came back looking freaked out, and no one on your team was saying anything.”

Kirishima had been studying him quietly during the interrogation. Katsuki finally met his inquisitive gaze, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He was tired. Really fucking tired. 

“It won’t happen again, so just drop it,” Katsuki finally said.

Sero’s brows furrowed. “Something else is going on with you. I don’t know what it is, but you’ve been different for weeks. Ever since-”

Sero froze. 

No. Fucking no. Katsuki couldn’t. They didn’t know anything. They were just grasping for straws-

“Since what?” Kaminari asked.

The words began to warp and convolute themselves in Katsuki’s ears. The ground shifted underneath his feet, stretching and tugging in different directions. Katsuki could not move, he could not breathe, he only stood there as they pulled the world out from under him.

“Since the League,” Sero whispered, but the words screamed inside Katsuki’s head. “You flinched-”

Katsuki’s heart thrummed loudly. Boom, boom, boom.

“-were completely out of it. I don’t think you even-”

Boom.

“Dude, what hap-”

Boom. Boom.

“-so different, lately.”

Boom. Boom. Boom.

“-you even listening?”

Boomboomboom.

“Bakugou?”

Boomboomboomboom.

“Bro, you’re freaking me out-”

Boomboomboomboomboomboom.

“Just say something, anything, please-”

“Do you really believe any of them love you?” Toga’s tongue darted out, licking his cheek. The sultry tones of her voices tickled his ear in a way that made Katsuki sick to his stomach. “Do you believe they care for you? Really, truly, like you?”

Katsuki whined. The anticipation burned him worse than Dabi’s fiery palms. Any moment, any second now Toga would slip the knife between his ribs and nick his heart. One wrong move, and he was dead. Bleeding out and fucking cold in less then a minute.

“How could anyone ever love a monster like you?”

Toga laughed. 

She laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Katsuki shivered, the ghost of Toga’s breathy chuckle taunting his neck. Gooseflesh prickled his skin. 

He had forgotten. Katsuki didn’t want to remember the feel of her tongue, lapping up blood on his face, or the sound of her laugh, or the caress of her fingertips. He wanted to shut it all away. He wanted to forget. 

“I have to finish changing,” Katsuki interrupted his internal dialogue, vainly attempting to switch topics. 

The audience was not forgiving of his abrupt conversation change.

“Bakugou, please. Didn’t we just talk about not shutting us out?” Sero pleaded.

“Dude, you went completely blank there for like a whole minute,” Kaminari murmured, eyes wide. “Something is seriously wrong. What’s going on? It has to do with the League, doesn’t it?”

Katsuki winced. “Well, I really don’t want to fucking talk about this, alright? Just drop it.”

“You don’t want to- fine, okay. That’s fine.” Sero threw his hands up in defeat. “I want you to know though-“

“It’s not fine,” Kaminari complained. “He-”

“I swear to fucking god-“

“-we’re here to support you, dude. We won’t judge you.” Sero glared pointedly at Kaminari. “And we’ll respect your boundaries, even if we’re super worried about you. You can always talk to us.”

Katsuki tapped his foot impatiently the entire time. “Are you done?”

Sero rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Great. Now fucking go back to your own lockers and leave me alone.”

Katsuki changed quickly after that. The idiots told him goodbye. Kaminari even tried to hug him, which Katsuki only allowed because the fucking guy was crying five minutes ago. Sero doesn’t try the same, although the look on his face says he really wants to. 

Katsuki exits before they can even try.

Shota is sitting on a bench across from the building. He raises his eyebrows when Katsuki makes his way over.

“Everything alright in there?”

Katsuki fights against the embarrassed blush spreading across his face. “Fucking fine. The dumbasses wanted to talk or whatever.”

“Okay,” Shota says as he stands up. “Everything went okay?”

“Yeah.”

No. It was fucking terrible.  

“Ready to go, then?”

“Fuck, I guess.”

Chapter Text

By the time they had arrived back at Shota’s apartment, Katsuki had fallen back into the mental fog. 

He couldn’t stop replaying the conversation over and over in his head. Katsuki regretted telling them anything. He regretted everything. The look alone on their faces was burned in his mind. 

Self hate was something Katsuki was intimately familiar with. Katsuki hated himself for as long as he could remember. He was always too much of something, or never enough of another. 

Always, always, always wrong. 

It never mattered how he tried to warp and fix himself for other people’s needs. It never mattered how many times he held his tongue. It never mattered how often he would give and give and give until nothing was left.

Katsuki was so fucking tired. 

He tried to give up on people’s expectations of him a while back, and yet somehow Katsuki found himself in the exact same place that he tried to leave. Giving and giving and giving. 

Perhaps it was a matter of pride over expectations. Maybe Katsuki was doing all of this to preserve his image rather than for the sake of others. 

At this point, did it matter why? 

Katsuki was still fucking here. 

As they entered the small foyer, Katsuki chucked his shoes off his feet. He slipped on the house slippers and set his shoes neatly against the wall. 

The apartment smelled like cinnamon and a faint hint of allspice. 

“Hey, kid, why don’t you change into something comfortable while I make some tea?”

“Okay.”

Katsuki wandered down the short hallway, slipping into the second bedroom. 

Absent-mindedly, Katsuki began to unbutton the buttons on his uniform jacket.

They were going to talk. And not just talk. They were going to fucking talk to him about what happened during training today. 

How was Katsuki ever supposed to explain that? 

Katsuki slipped on a soft t-shirt and sweats as he chews his lip. There were a couple options. Katsuki could always lie and blame it on something else. But, Shota was abnormally good at picking out lies. Plus, what fucking lie could Katsuki ever hope to come up with that could explain that trainwreck?

He could just refuse to say anything. But, Shota wasn’t the type to let this go. Katsuki had a feeling Hizashi probably wouldn’t let him shove this shit under a rug, either. 

And Katsuki could tell the truth. 

The truth he’d never told anyone. The truth they probably wouldn't have believed anyway. The fucking truth that Katsuki couldn’t manage to say out loud.

Fuck. Fuck. 

Katsuki was so utterly fucked. 

Maybe he should kill himself. Just blow his brains out before Shota even realized what was going on. 

Katsuki cringed at the thought. 

He couldn’t do that to them. The mess alone in the fucking carpet would be a nightmare. He’d ruin their home, not to mention they’d definitely come into the room and see the wreck he’d made of himself. 

It wouldn’t make a pretty picture, that’s for sure.

By the time Katsuki closed the door shut behind him, he had no idea what he was going to do. He could almost picture the metaphorical walls slowly closing in around him, pressing closer on all sides. 

Nowhere to go. No other options. Just simply, fucked. 

The living room was empty. Shota was still in the kitchen, grabbing mugs from a cupboard. There was a kettle on the coffee table that Katsuki had missed before. 

Every step towards the couch felt like his last.

Shota exited the kitchen, a mug in each hand. 

Reality started to do that weird thing again. Maybe it was just the sight of his teacher carrying more obnoxious cat mugs, because honestly, did they own every cat themed mug in the country? 

Katsuki settles deeper into the plush cushioning of the couch. He expertly avoids Shota’s cursory glance as he sits down on the other end. The mugs clink as Shota sets them down on the coasters. 

There’s a brief intermission of silence, in which Katsuki finds himself drifting again, before Shota clears his throat. 

“I was worried about you today, kid.”

His voice is gravelly, and the admission of his care did little to shock Katsuki out of this weird mental fog. The words are little more than white noise, a backdrop to the numbness wrapping around his limbs like lead. 

Typically, or at least from what others spoke of it, when people tried and failed to kill themselves, they always mentioned a moment during the process they were overcome with regret. There was a moment, either during or after they woke up, that they abruptly realized just how much they wanted to live. As if staring death in the face was the catalyst to finding a will to live. 

Katsuki never found that lightbulb moment. There was never a moment in the aftermath that Katsuki had found the secret to wanting to live, or the joy in his life. 

Instead, he found this fuzzy, out of body feeling that shrouded him from the world. He watched rather than experienced each day wind by. Where others found that burning spark of life, Katsuki found everything shriveling and decaying inside of him. 

Nothing.  

Katsuki always felt so terribly blank, part of him wondered if he had died after all. Perhaps all of this was some fucked up amalgamation before his untimely death. Maybe somewhere out in the universe, Katsuki was still choking on vomit. 

And the worst part? 

Katsuki really fucking hoped that was the case. Because no amount of pills or fucking therapy was worth this. 

Now he was stuck being alive. 

Katsuki wanted to die. He wanted to drag a fucking blade down his wrists and feel the hot blood spurting out from severed arteries. He wanted to shiver on the floor; the only warmth coming from the blood pooling around his body. He wanted to die. He wanted to be fucking nothing-

“Katsuki,” Shota said, loud enough to cut through the tangle of thoughts but not loud enough to be considered raising his voice.

Katsuki blinked, dragging his blank stare to focus fuzzily on Shota. “Huh?”

It’s as if all of his senses were clouded in the fog. Everything felt distant. Like a dream. 

Suddenly Shota was a lot closer, his face crumpled in concern. “C’mon, kiddo-”

Katsuki watched dumbly as Shota reached out to grasp one of his hands in his own, squeezing firmly. He continued speaking, but the words turned to mush in Katsuki’s head. 

“Is this real?” Katsuki mused aloud, but his voice fell flat even to his own ears.

Something cold pressed into his palm. Katsuki’s fingers closed around it automatically. The freezing cold burned his skin, and something wet trickled out from his fist. 

Katsuki settled back into his own skin at the sensation, although everything still felt a bit weird. 

“Katsuki? Can you describe five things you can see?”

“What?”

“Can you name five things you can see?” Shota repeated himself.

“Uh…” Katsuki’s eyes skirted around the room. “Couch?”

A small smile twitched into existence on Shota’s mouth. “That’s great, kid. What else?”

“The table. The TV,” Katsuki’s brow furrowed. “Those fucking cat mugs. And the carpet.”

“You’re doing good. Can you name four things you’re touching?”

“Your hand. The- um, the couch?”

“That works, anything else?”

“The floor-” Katsuki shifted around. Why the fuck was Shota doing this? “And my fucking clothes, I guess?”

“Good. Name three things you can hear?”

Katsuki strained to hear the sounds around him. “The ceiling fan and the clock. And the cat.”

Sure enough, the cat was off scampering from room to room. The sound of scratching nails on the hardwood floors resounded through the hallway and into the living room. Quickly, a blur of gray zooms down the hall and into the kitchen. 

There’s a muffled thump and an indignant meow that follows shortly after.

“Jelly does this sometimes,” Shota comments. “She’ll get these random bursts of energy and just start running around and crashing into walls.”

“She’s fucking crazy.”

“Probably,” Shota snorts. 

Katsuki does a double take. “Did I just make you laugh?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“You never laugh.” Katsuki squints. “How do I know you’re not an imposter?”

“I just never laugh during your classes,” Shota points out. “I laugh plenty outside of work.”

“It’s weird.”

“Sure, kid. I think it would be weirder if I never laughed.”

“It’s like, the first time I’m fucking seeing it.”

“Maybe you weren’t paying attention before.” Shota shrugs. 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Sure, whatever.”

“We’re almost done. Can you name two things you smell?”

“Why are we doing this anyway?” Katsuki grumbles. “Can’t you do this shit in your head?”

The ice in his fist has long since turned fully to liquid, although the small dish towel placed underneath has caught all of the water. Katsuki didn’t even notice when Shota would have placed it there.

“You were pretty out of it, Katsuki. This is an exercise to help ground you.”

Shota is watching him closely again. His eyes scan over Katsuki’s slumped form, and something briefly flashes across his face. 

“Is that what the fucking ice was for?”

“Yes. The cold sensation is harder for your brain to ignore. It helps pull you back in, per say.”

“Oh, okay.”

“We only have one more after this. So, two things you can smell?”

“This is dumb,” Katsuki complains, although he doesn’t pause before giving the answer. “The tea and cinnamon. Why does it smell like cinnamon here, anyway?”

Shota glanced towards the kitchen. 

“‘Zashi probably plugged in one of those wall scent things,” he said as he waved his hand in that direction. “He likes the fall scents.”

There’s a brief pause, and then, “Do you like the scent? We can always change it.”

“No, it’s fine.” 

Katsuki fights the heat rising to his face. 

They always do too much, and it's frustrating. It’s their home, not his. Why should it matter if Katsuki likes the smell or not? If they like it then that’s all that matters.

“Alright, one more. Name one thing you can taste.”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Katsuki picks at a hangnail. “I’m not really tasting anything right now.”

“Fair enough. That one is always hit or miss. Speaking of, how would you like your tea?”

Katsuki shrugs. He didn’t even want tea. “Doesn’t matter. Where’s Hizashi?”

“He was finishing up some things for his classes when I talked to him earlier. He should be almost home by now.”

Katsuki bites his lip harshly enough to taste metallic blood. “Did you tell him?”

“Just the bare bones of it. Is it okay with you if he’s here for that conversation, or would you like to talk to only me?”

“It’s fine.”

Shota hesitates. “Which option is fine?”

“Uh, either one. It doesn’t matter.”

“We can wait for him to come home then.” Shota’s eyes slide over to meet Katsuki’s. “It does matter. If you feel uncomfortable with Hizashi being present for the conversation, he won’t mind if we have it privately.”

Katsuki shrugs again. 

Yeah, fucking right.  

“This whole thing is fucking uncomfortable.”

“Fair enough. It won’t be an easy conversation, and I understand that it may be difficult to talk about. If you don’t want to talk about certain things, we’re not going to force you. However, we are pretty concerned about you. We only want to clarify some things and make sure you have the right resources and support.”

“Uh, okay.”

“That being said, how would you like your tea? I will make it however you like it, just let me know.”

Katsuki wrinkles his nose. “Ugh, just uh, two sugars.”

“Sure thing, kid.”

Hizashi arrives home a little while later, after they’ve both finished their first cup. 

It’s an abrupt reminder for Katsuki that the impending conversation is suddenly a hell of a lot closer to occurring than it was five minutes ago. 

Shota gets up from the couch, motioning for Katsuki to remain seated. 

“I’ll be back in a second.”

Hizashi pokes his head in the living room before Shota can make it halfway to the door. 

“Hey!” He beams widely. “How was school today, Katsuki?”

Katsuki shrugs, forgoing any verbal response. 

Hizashi is unaffected. Shota catches his eyes and gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. 

To Katsuki, he says, “We’ll be back in a minute.”

And then Katsuki is left alone. 

He can hear the faint murmur of voices from the kitchen. The kitchen is not far away or closed off, but the two are speaking in low enough tones that Katsuki can’t make out exactly what they’re saying.

All the same, it doesn’t take a fucking genius to know they’re talking about him. 

He wraps his arms around himself and leans back further into the corner of the couch. The only thing driving him forward is the livewire mess of nerves wrangling his stomach right now. His knee begins to bounce up and down at an increasingly quick pace.

If it wasn’t for the building anxiety for the looming conversation, Katsuki was sure he would’ve tried to sleep the afternoon away in his dorm room. But here he was, in Shota’s apartment, preparing to talk. 

Yeah, suicide was sounding more and more appealing with every passing second.

Shota appears from around the corner, flashing Katsuki a smile. Hizashi is still lingering in the kitchen, putting something together by the sound of it. 

“I’ll be back in a second,” Shota assures him. 

Katsuki doesn’t say anything and Shota disappears into the master bedroom. Hizashi pokes his head back out of the kitchen.

“Hey, listener! I’m putting more water on for tea. Did you want anything else or is that okay with you?”

“That’s fine.”

“Awesome! It should only be a couple more minutes.” 

Then he disappears again, leaving Katsuki alone with his thoughts.

It still feels odd to be here. Katsuki feels out of place in such a casual setting around his teachers, even after all they’ve done for him. 

And now they’re going to talk. About things. Very difficult, personal things. 

Shota pops back out of the room, now minus a hero costume and dressed in casual clothing. He wanders off to the kitchen where there is another murmured conversation before Hizashi emerges, also heading to the room to presumably shed his own hero costume. 

Shota comes out of the kitchen carrying another mug and a fresh pot of tea. 

“Hizashi should be out in a second. Would you rather have the conversation now?”

“Let’s get it over with,” Katsuki grumbles, although his nerves are betrayed by his still bouncing knee. 

( He tries to stop, but the urge builds wildly inside of him and he can’t hold it back anymore.)

“How’d the rest of your classes go today?”

“Fine.” Katsuki’s response is clipped as his eyes keep drifting back to the spot that at any moment, Hizashi will emerge from. 

Then this whole mess will really begin. As if Katsuki hasn’t talked enough today already. He’s so fucking tired of conversations . All he wants to do is fucking sleep.

Shota prepares tea for all of them, and it's when he finally pushes a mug in Katsuki’s direction that Hizashi makes his entrance in casual clothing. 

“Are you guys settled in already?” Hizashi asks, plopping down on the matching loveseat. Shota passes him a prepared mug, which Hizashi accepts gratefully. “Thanks, Sho!”

Shota sips from his own mug. 

Katsuki’s heart begins to pound away against his ribcage. 

“I want to do something special today, Kacchan,” Toga told him seriously, yellow eyes flashing as her fingertips lovingly caressed her knife. “The Doctor gave me such a great idea.”

Toga sauntered forward, hips swaying with every confident step. Her lips curled into a smile and Katsuki shivered at the sight of it. Her viciously sharp canines gleamed in the low light.

“Nothing to say?” Toga taunted him.

“Katsuki?”

Katsuki jolted. He looked up from the indiscernible spot he had been blankly focused on. Both Shota and Hizashi were looking at him expectantly, although Shota had a small crease in his brow.

Katsuki awkwardly clears his throat, pressing his nails into the flesh of his palms. “My bad. What’d you say?”

Hizashi smiles, unaffected. “I was just asking how you were feeling, kiddo.”

Katsuki could feel the way his tongue moved inside his mouth.

“I’m fine.”

Shota hums. “We’re worried about you.”

Something twists in Katsuki’s chest, bringing a heavy lump to his throat. He doesn’t know this game. “I’m sorry,” he tries.

Hizashi frowns. “You don’t have to apologize,” he assures Katsuki gently. “We just want to help you. There have been a lot of big changes in your life recently.”

“Yeah, okay.” He can’t hold their gaze. “I’m fine.”

“Kid,” Shota leans forward, steepling his hands and propping his elbows on his legs. “You weren’t fine during training today. And you weren’t fine thirty minutes ago.”

He was fucking fine.

The muzzle had been removed prior to this, by some nameless, faceless underling. Katsuki had no energy to beg to be released. 

It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. 

The muzzle had left a sharp, bloody outline on his cheeks and jaw. The skin there was raw and tender. 

When the muzzle had finally been peeled away from his skin, Katsuki had nearly cried as his skin tried to cling to the metal. Blood oozed from the raw gouges that the outline of the muzzle had created. It dripped down from the bridge of his nose, and Katsuki was so thirsty he licked it away. 

The action had felt too similar to Toga. The realization dropped like a stone in his stomach. Katsuki tipped his head down and vomited onto the concrete floor. 

Katsuki pinches his bicep harshly. “Right.”

“We feel like there’s something you’re not telling us,” Hizashi begins. “We want to help you, listener, but we can’t if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Katsuki wants to cry. Or scream. Or punch something. 

“Katsuki,” Shota says, and Katsuki finally picks his head up. “During training today, it looked like you were having a panic attack. But it didn’t seem like you were all the way there.”

The floatiness. The flashbacks. 

Katsuki knew these things. His mind felt muddled between now and then. Memories swam in front of his eyes, the undercurrent of their noises playing in the background.

“Kacchan~” Toga sang softly, drawing his mind back to the present. “Where do you go?”

Katsuki licked his chapped and cracked lips, as if the action could grant him any relief. His mouth was dry as a desert. 

“What?” He rasped. 

Toga frowned, tapping the blade against her cheek thoughtfully. “Where do you go,” she repeated. “You know, when you space out?”

“I don’t know,” Katsuki admitted. “Not here.”

“No.” Toga turned around, rummaging around through the small satchel she had brought with her. “Not here.”

A warm hand rests on his wrist.

Katsuki tries to push through; wading through the muck of memories and back to solid ground. Toga’s voice still rings in his ear. The weight of the chains holds his wrists in place.

“I don’t know how to say it,” Katsuki admits. “I thought it would go away.”

He misses the concerned look the two share in front of him. Katsuki is too busy digging his nails into his skin. The pain is grounding. 

Katsuki needs it. 

“Take all the time you need,” Shota says. “We won’t judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about. We are only here to listen and support you.”

Katsuki nods.

Toga pulled out a black rubber wedge, then ruffled through the bag some more until she found a matching one. 

“They use these for dogs,” Toga told him, finally standing and approaching. “To keep their jaws open. Open as wide as you can go.”

Katsuki knew better than to refuse. He opened his jaw, and his dry lips split deeper, blood welling up to coat them. Toga shoved a black wedge in between his teeth on both sides, forcing his mouth wide open. Katsuki’s jaw ached already, forced a bit past what it could normally open. 

Toga stepped back to inspect her work. “Perfect.”

Katsuki didn’t want to know what Toga had planned. He wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Toga wiped the blade on a cloth. She smiled wide. “Are you ready, Kacchan?”

Katsuki bit his lip. The taste of blood coated his tongue, and for a moment, Katsuki was no longer in the apartment. 

“If you want, we can start with something easier. It sounded like you were triggered by something that happened during training today. Can you tell us what that was?”

The air felt too thick. 

“It sounds fucking stupid.”

“I assure you, whatever it was, it wasn’t stupid,” Shota attempts to soothe him. “Triggers are serious, and once we know them, we can work to avoid them.”

“It was-” Katsuki inhaled shakily. “-it was her fucking laugh. I thought it was- I thought it was someone else.”

“Whose laugh? Uraraka’s?”

Katsuki shrugged. “Yeah. It was fucking stupid.”

“Did you think it was your mom?” Hizashi asks, his voice quiet and careful. 

“No,” Katsuki whispers. 

Katsuki couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. 

Toga leaned in, close to his face. Katsuki could not breathe.

She reached in his mouth, gripping his tongue with sharp nails. Katsuki tried to pull back, instinctively attempting to recoil, but chains held him in place. Toga pulled his tongue out. Her eyes flicked up to meet his own. 

“Don’t cry, Kacchan.” Katsuki hadn’t even had the mind to register the salty tears running down his face. Toga refocused downward, back at his tongue. Her next muttered sentence chilled him to the bone.

“You run your mouth too much anyway.”

Katsuki thrusts his head in his hands, shoving his palms against his eyes. “I was fucking stupid, okay? I should’ve done something, but its too fucking late now.”

“What do you mean, Katsuki?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? I know I should be over this, and I will- I’m trying.” Katsuki shudders, tears pooling in his eyes against his will. “I’ll do better, I swear.”

“Katsuki, wait a minute-”

“I should have fought back, or fucking never let it happen in the first place. But I was too weak,” Katsuki chokes on a sob. “And then, I- I didn’t remember and I don’t know why-”

“Katsuki,” Shota tries.

“But now I do and that's all I can think about. I don’t know whats fucking wrong with me. I- I’m just fucking broken.”

For a moment, the world is still. Katsuki does not dare breathe. Even his heart seems to withhold its dance inside his chest.

Then, white-hot pain slices through his mouth. 

His mouth feels like it's on fire. Blood is pooling, dripping from his open mouth. A terrible, ragged scream ricochets around them. 

Katsuki chokes.

“Shut up,” Toga hisses, even as amusement flits across her features. “C’mon, Kacchan, you had this coming. You love to talk so fucking much.”

He screams and screams and screams, scarcely stopping for air. 

“You’re not broken, Katsuki,” Hizashi tells him firmly. “I’m sure that whatever happened wasn’t your fault.”

“But it was.” Katsuki cries, finally removing his head from his hands. Tears spill over, running down his face. Katsuki knows he must look like a mess right now. “I should’ve known better. I”m supposed to be a hero, and I fucking let her-”

Katsuki’s voice dies, breaking off into another gut wrenching sob. 

“I’m fucking useless.”

“No, you’re not useless Katsuki. And you’re not weak. You are strong,” Shota says. “You’re still in training. No one is expecting you to react and behave like a fully fledged pro hero. There’s still so much for you and your class to learn. You can’t be held to the same standard, it's not fair to any of you.”

Toga saws her blade back and forth, each motion burning. Katsuki didn’t realize pain could be this great. He didn’t know it could be so all-consuming. Pain that swallowed you whole, left you quivering and weak.

Distantly, he could feel the muscle fibers snapping. Katsuki threw his body against the chains, struggling to move even an inch away. He tried to throw his head back, but only succeeded in a slash of pain across the roof of his mouth.

“Shit,” Toga cursed. “Stop moving! Stay still or I really will fuck you up.”

Katsuki howled gutterally, but fought against the mindless urge to throw himself away. That is, until she began sawing away again. 

“Kiddo,” Hizashi sounds very hesitant. “This thing that happened. Did it happen before you began school at UA?”

Katsuki shakes his head. 

“Was it within the past three months?”

Katsuki’s breath hitches. “I can’t- I can’t say it.”

“That’s okay,” Shota murmurs. “Remember, kid, if you don’t want to continue we can take a break. We just wanted to ask you about what happened today and try to prevent any triggering events in the future.”

Some part of him wants to say it. He wants to tell them what she did to ruin him. The way she took him apart and dumped the pieces on the floor. 

“It’s fine,” Katsuki says as firmly as he can. “I- I can do it.”

He’s better than this. He will be stronger than her. Katsuki waited on this long enough. 

“Are you sure?” Shota asks, worried. 

“Yes,” Katsuki tells him. 

He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath to pull himself together. 

There is a mixture of fresh and dried tears tracks down his face. Katsuki can taste the salt and blood when he licks his bruised lips. 

Katsuki is determined. Maybe if he speaks it, he can finally be rid of it. Then she’ll go away.

Hizashi doesn’t look entirely convinced, but Katsuki fixes the fiercest glare he can manage in his direction, and he nods. 

“Okay, kiddo. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Hizashi reminds him. Then, he draws in a small breath, and the words suffocate the air between them, “Did the League do something to you while you were held captive?”

Katsuki couldn’t suppress the urge to move any longer. Toga screamed at him, slashing more frantically, and something popped loose in his mouth. 

She let go of his hair, which Katsuki hadn’t realized she was holding, and his head fell down on his chest. Blood pooled from his mouth, spilling onto the floor. 

He was choking on blood, his tongue writhing and twitching uselessly on the floor. Toga laughed from somewhere off to the side. The sound echoed around them.

Katsuki could not breathe.

He was going to die here. 

The reality of what just happened hadn’t settled in yet. Katsuki could not even spit the blood away. He could only look down in undaunted horror.

Katsuki lied.

Suddenly, the courage pumping through his veins has turned to ice. As soon as the question is out in the open, Katsuki feels like his body has shut down. 

He can’t speak. He can’t breathe. He can’t even utter the smallest of sounds.

All he can do is sit there as the world spins around him, as the air vanishes from the room, as everything Katsuki has attempted to withhold comes rushing forth in a landslide.

His nails dig deeper crescents in the softness of his palms. 

Katsuki opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. 

The carpet is rising and falling beneath his feet. The ceiling fan whirs loudly overhead. Under his skin, and behind his ribs, Katsuki’s heart drops to his stomach.

“Hey kiddo, look at me,” Shota calls out softly to him.

Katsuki clenches his jaw. Unwillingly, he shifts to look at Shota. Shota swims in his eyes, blurred and unfocused from the tears filling his vision. 

Katsuki didn’t realize he had begun crying again.

Weak, his mind hisses. 

“Can I touch you?”

Katsuki curls in on himself, shaking his head violently. 

“Okay, that’s alright. You’re safe here, Katsuki. No one is going to hurt you.”

His lungs wheeze and rattle.

“I-” His voice dies off, a tiny whimper breaks through, no matter how frantically Katsuki tries to smother it. 

“Shh, it's alright kiddo. Don’t force yourself to speak,” Hizashi murmurs. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, okay?”

It took Katsuki a couple more moments to gather himself enough to spit out a sentence. 

“No, I can do it.”

“Katsuki,” Shota chided. “If you’re uncomfortable talking about it, you don’t have to. There’s no need to force yourself to share something if you think that's what we want.”

“But if I don’t say it now,” Katsuki struggled to say, “I don’t think I ever will.”

“It’s something bad.” Hizashi stated, brows furrowing. 

Katsuki nodded. 

“Did they hurt you?” Shota asked.

Katsuki bites his lip so hard that Shota winces at the sight. 

Hurt was an fucking understatement.  

“Katsuki, thank you for sharing that with us,” Shota says firmly, albeit not unkindly, “I know that must have been very difficult. But we’re going to end this conversation.”

“But-” Katsuki sighed, cutting himself off. 

As much as Katsuki wanted to forge ahead and just spit out the barest bones of what happened, he couldn’t. Katsuki could barely force the words out that were completely unrelated to the situation. 

Hizashi smiled gently towards Katsuki. “We can always discuss this more later on, kiddo. But we don’t want you to force yourself to talk about it, and it doesn’t seem like you’re ready.”

“No more panic attacks today if we can help it.” Shota said with the barest hint of a smile. “Now, is it alright with you if we share this with your therapist?”

Katsuki winced but gave the tiniest of nods in affirmation. He could always just refuse if he didn’t want to talk about it with Inui. The man had made that abundantly clear in the sessions they’d had so far.

“We will need to talk about triggers sometime,” Shota pointed out, “but you don’t seem okay to continue that conversation tonight. We can talk about it later on.”

“I don’t even fucking know what those are,” Katsuki finally said. 

“Oh,” Hizashi blinked and sat up a bit more on the couch. “Sorry kiddo. I should have asked before assuming you knew about them. Triggers are something that causes a bad emotional reaction, to put it simply. The thing is typically related to a traumatic event and reminds you of it in some form.”

“So her laugh…” Katsuki trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence. 

Hizashi nodded. “Did it remind you of something traumatic?”

“You could say that.”

“That one might be difficult to avoid,” Shota muttered as he began to clean up the now cold tea on the coffee table. 

“That’s true,” Hizashi agreed. “But other triggers are easier to avoid. For example, if being touched or grabbed in a certain area is a trigger, you can ask people to avoid doing that. Especially for sparring matches during training.”

Katsuki thought of the way Dabi had held him by his neck, dragging him backward through the swirling dark mass. 

“I don’t like people touching my neck,” he admitted quietly.

“That’s perfectly understandable.” Hizashi’s eyes softened. “If you let your sparring partner know before the match begins, then you can avoid it.”

“They’ll probably just try to say shit about it,” Katsuki grumbled as he absentmindedly rubbed his neck to dispel the phantom sensation of Dabi’s hand. 

“I will personally make sure none of your classmates say anything. If they do, they’ll be properly reprimanded.” Shota crossed his arms. “Although I really doubt any of them would.”

Shota had a point. Katsuki could never imagine Kirishima or Mina laughing at him for it. It still didn’t make the task any easier.

“You don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to,” Hizashi explained. “But it would help avoid any panic attacks or flashbacks in class.”

Katsuki just shrugged. “Maybe,” he conceded. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all we ask.” Shota returned from the kitchen. “Are you both fine with ordering takeout tonight?”

“I definitely don’t feel like cooking, Sho,” Hizashi said with a grin. “Katsuki?”

“I’m okay with whatever.”

“Let’s put a movie on,” Hizashi said, already moving to grab the remote. “What genre do you like, listener?”

“Anything is fine,” Katsuki dismissed again.

Honestly, he didn’t care about dinner or the movie. There was too much going on inside of his mind to focus on much. Katsuki wasn’t too hungry anyway.

“Welp, I’m always down for a good old romcom,” Hizashi chirped happily.

Too happily.

Katsuki stiffened, narrowing his eyes. “What.”

“What?”

“Why a romcom?” Katsuki demanded. “Did fucking Deku say something?”

“You’re not a fan? I can always put something else on.” Hizashi frowned. “Wait, why would Midoriya-”

“Nothing.” Katsuki’s face grew hot. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t-” Hizashi looked flustered. “W-what?”

“It’s fine, just put it on.”

“Wait,” Hizashi stage whispered as his eyes widened, “Are you secretly a fan of romance?”

Katsuki’s face burned even hotter, if that was possible. “What? Fuck no.”

Katsuki could see the moment it all clicked for him. 

“Oh my god, you are!”

“Wait-” Katsuki tried desperately. 

It was much too late.

“Sho! Katsuki loves romance too!”

“No I fucking don’t! Stop saying that!”

“You do,” Hizashi grinned evilly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, kiddo.”

“Stop torturing him.” Shota finally came to his rescue. “There’s no shame in liking romance, Katsuki.”

Or not.

Katsuki groaned audibly. 

Chapter Text

The weeks begin to slip by without Katsuki realizing it. 

Believe it or not, but Katsuki has tentatively been doing better since that first awful day back. After his talk with Shota and Hizashi about triggers, Katsuki spoke with Inui about it. He began paying more attention to the little things bothering him, pushing him closer to the brutal edge of anxiety, the mistakes he made that threw his mind down that desolate pit. Katsuki even voiced his displeasure of anyone grabbing his neck to Kirishima, who happily agreed to avoid the area.

Inui was proud of him. Katsuki wasn’t happy per se, but he was finally doing something. He was creating something from the nothing encompassing his life, putting in the work. Mixing and laying cement, structuring the rebar, sculpting and formulating the groundwork to build a life. A better life. 

A life Katsuki wanted to live. 

Things weren’t all sunshine and rainbows. 

Katsuki still hasn’t broached the topic of Toga at all. 

Shota announces the upcoming Provisional License Exam during homeroom and the next two weeks are a flurry of activity as Katsuki and his classmates prepare for it. 

There are an abundance of study groups formed to run through combat and rescue procedures, Kirishima dividing their classmates into groups during after school on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in the gym closest to their dorm building. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he studies procedures and strategies with Yaoyorozu, Kaminari and Sato.

As the final week before the exam is suddenly thrust upon him, Katsuki finds himself exceedingly confident in his abilities. He could recite procedures for hours. While his AP shot could still use some work, it's nothing that can’t be fixed immediately. The fluidity and ease behind the move can only come with time. However, Howitzer Impact is fully ready and Katsuki is eager to use it in a combat setting. 

Even if it is just a fucking test.

It’s because of his abounding confidence that Katsuki finds himself hanging out with the idiot squad in Mina’s room Wednesday night. Most of their classmates are also taking the day off. Even from two floors above, Katsuki can hear raucous, booming laughter from the common room.

Mina has a spa night planned. Surprisingly, there weren’t any complaints from Kaminari or Sero when Mina pulled out the nail polish and hair products. Usually they would bemoan and twist away when she attempted to wrangle them all into doing face masks. Although, they always give in eventually. 

Personally, Katsuki thought they just liked messing around with her. 

With school, training and study groups consuming most of their waking hours, Katsuki hadn’t really talked to the others since that day. They all still hung out during lunch, but they mostly talked about classes and quizzes with each other. 

Kaminari would make passing comments during their shared study groups. It was always little things. He would begin a joke only to cut himself off once Katsuki made eye contact, or he would be overtly positive when criticizing Katsuki’s training. 

Always little, snide shit. 

At first, Katsuki didn’t even pay that much attention to what Kaminari was doing. Sometimes the other guy was just an idiot and Katsuki learned to ignore the dumb shit he said. But Kamainari didn’t stop. When Katsuki began mentally cataloging what the electric quirk user was doing, the more the comments pissed him off. 

Kaminari was treating him differently. He was softer now; more positive, less honest when Katsuki needed him to be. He would smile all the time, even when he was upset about something. 

Katsuki tried to pull him aside and ask him what the fuck was going on, but Kaminari was slippery. He always evaded Katsuki with ease, often disappearing off with Sero. 

Sero acted the same when Katsuki talked to him. 

All in all, Katsuki didn’t know what the fuck to do. 

It was like they were babying him. Putting kid gloves on when they spoke to him. Everything felt stilted and weird. 

Needless to say, the lax atmosphere in Mina’s room finally brought to head the awkwardness lingering around since the locker room discussion. 

More like confrontation. 

Kaminari and Sero alternated between pitying looks when they thought Katsuki couldn't see, and overbearing, forced happiness when he blatantly was. 

Katsuki was so fucking sick of it all. 

Tonight was no different. 

They all sat sprawled around Mina’s room. Katsuki had claimed a spot leaning against a bedpost in the corner. Kirishima was passing out snacks next to him while Sero and Kaminari were positioned beyond him by the wall. Sero was rifling through Mina’s skin care bag, passing face masks to Kaminari. Mina was still fiddling with the speakers on the desk, shuffling through songs quickly as she hummed under her breath. 

Kaminari ripped open one of the packets containing the face mask. He shook it out, flinging the extra liquid off. Some of it hit Katsuki’s face and he scowled. 

“Hey! Watch it,” he growled. 

Immediately, a familiar shit-eating grin spread across Kaminari’s face and a playful glint shone in his eyes.

“Hey Bakugou, maybe you should-” Kaminari choked as Sero hit him in the gut. He turned to glare at Sero, but Katsuki watched Sero attempt to subtly nod towards him. 

Kaminari’s eyes widened, “Uh…sorry, nevermind.”

Mina could pick up that something had been off these two weeks. She kept shooting Katsuki questioning looks that he was steadfastly ignoring. Kirishima was growing more nervous by the second, but remained firmly planted inbetween Katsuki and the fucking tape and electric duo.

Mina had enough.

“Okay, what the fuck is up with all of you?” She demanded, hands on her hips as she glared down at all of them, “For these past two weeks something has been going on. No one is telling me anything. I thought you idiots would’ve figured it out amongst yourselves, but clearly that’s not the case. Spill. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Kaminari said quickly. 

“It’s not our place to say,” Sero mutters, although he doesn’t fucking stop sending Katsuki that kicked puppy look. 

Katsuki has had enough of this shit. 

“Fuck you. Now it’s not your place to talk?” Katsuki growled, “Didn’t stop you before.”

“This! This is what I’m talking about!” Mina cried, throwing her hands up. 

Kirishima bit his lip. He had a face mask on and was vainly trying to keep his face from moving too much as he spoke, “Mina, I don’t know. Maybe leave this one alone?”

“Coward,” Katsuki accused blandly. 

He wasn’t sure if he’d rather fight them about it, or continue on ignoring the incident like it never happened. Sero and Kaminari had been entirely too mellow these past two weeks. It didn’t matter how normal Katsuki forced himself to be, they still danced around their words. 

Katsuki hated it. He hated this fragile manner in which they regarded him. As if cueing them into what had been going on in his life suddenly transformed Katsuki into fragile glass, one word away from shattering. 

Kirishima winced, “Bakugou, please. I’m sorry.”

“‘Not your place’, my ass. Fuck off with that shit. I don’t need your apology.”

“Knowing these dumbasses, you probably deserve one, though,” Mina frowned thoughtfully. Then she sighed, “Alright, listen up. Whatever this is, we’re going to try and clear it up now. For all of our sakes. Stop dancing around whatever this is, and fix it.”

Katsuki sighed harshly, glaring at the three others still on the floor. They avoided eye contact. 

“Can we fix this, Bakugou?” Mina asked. 

Katsuki shrugged, looking away to stare pointedly at the floor, “It’s not my fucking fault.”

“I never said that it was,” Mina replied patiently. She knelt by him, blocking the three from view, “I won’t blame you if you want to hold a grudge for a little while longer. But it might help to try and work through this together.”

She had a point. Katsuki hated that she had a point. 

But last time, talking was what started all of this shit. They were only treating him like this because Katsuki decided to open his mouth. 

So what? Katsuki opens his fucking mouth again, compains about how they’ve been treating him differently and suddenly they’re supposed to just stop? Or, Katsuki could meet them in a gym somewhere on campus and they could settle this through fists. 

Katsuki would win, obviously. 

They’d see how strong he was. They wouldn’t think twice about Katsuki’s capability again. 

And yet, some part of that reminded Katsuki so fiercely of his mother, of the way she would scream and hit and scratch. Katsuki would never be able to explain it to his friends, but since thinking of his mother for the first time in a while, suddenly he was overcome with such an encompassing feeling of longing.

He missed her, then. He missed his mom. He missed her so fucking bad, Katsuki almost began to cry.

When the silence stretches on, Mina says quietly, “You don’t have to. If you don’t want me to know, I can leave.”

Katsuki didn’t want to be his mother.

“It’s fine.”

It always was.

“No, I’m serious, Bakugou. If you don’t want me here, I’m out,” Mina said fiercely. 

When Katsuki looked up from the floor, Mina was still kneeling there, blocking the others from view. Her dark eyes were warm and soft, even though her brows were pinched with concern. He knew she meant every word. 

“Okay.”

Katsuki really didn’t mind Mina being here. Besides Kirishima, Mina was one of the people closest to him in their friend group. And it was long overdue that Katsuki told her.

“Okay?” Mina questioned again, “Okay, like you want me to stay or okay, get the fuck out?”

If Mina said Katsuki smiled at her then, she was lying. 

Totally lying.

“Okay, you can stay. But it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be.”

“It’s a big deal if you’re still bothered by it after these two weeks,” Mina finally stands up, perches on the edge of her bed and crosses her arms over her chest as she views each of them, “Alright, spill. What happened?”

And all three of them immediately look at Katsuki. 

“Really? Are you fucking serious?”

“Listen man, it’s not my place to say anything,” Kaminari held his hands up in surrender. 

“Oh, but it is your place to fucking interrogate me-”

“Hold on,” Mina cut in, “Bakugou, you tell me what happened. Kaminari, just hold on a couple minutes.”

Katsuki huffed, “We fucking talked.”

“Right, I got that part.”

Katsuki caved and gave a brief, gruff overview of the locker room talk. Mina winced when he mentioned the way it ended. 

“Okay, so-” Mina stopped, inhaling deeply and steepling her hands in front of her face, “Guys. We need to talk about things.”

“We were just trying to help, ” Kaminari said. 

“Yeah, I get that part,” Mina wrinkled her nose, “God.”

“We definitely messed up,” Kirishima admitted tearfully. He turned to Katsuki, chin wobbling,“I’m so sorry, Bakugou. I think we got too caught up in trying to help you. I wasn’t thinking. It wasn’t manly at all.”

“I don’t need your fucking help, Shitty Hair,” Katsuki grumbled. 

“It’s not fine, man. Please don’t let us off the hook. It really bothered you to talk about those things, and we pushed too far trying to get answers.”

“We were just trying to help,” Kaminari said.

“Yeah, we didn’t mean any harm by it,” Sero added. 

“But it wasn’t the right time or place,” Mina points out, “And you were so busy ‘helping’ that you never realized you were doing the opposite.”

“I was fine. I could fucking handle it.” 

“Sweetheart, we need to re-evaluate your definition of ‘fine’.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“I love you too, Blasty,” Mina chirped before she narrowed her eyes, “And Bakugou. We’re your friends, but you don’t owe us shit. If you don’t want to talk about something, it’s fine if you don’t. And you three need to respect that. If he’s uncomfortable with talking about something, back off. No questions asked, just stop.”

“I wasn’t trying to-” Sero began.

“No. I’m fucking serious. None of that ‘please’ bullshit, alright? No means no.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Kaminari admitted, “I’m sorry, dude.”

“Yeah, me too. It wasn’t my intention-” Mina glared at him so ferociously, Sero choked, “Uh, but that doesn’t matter. I still hurt you by pushing the subject. I’m sorry too, Bakugou.”

Mina looked back at Katsuki. 

“Cool.”

“Blasty.”

“I accept your fucking apologies, bastards.” 

“Thank you,” Mina beamed, pushing herself off the bed, “Can I talk to you in the bathroom for a sec?”

Katsuki hesitated, “Uh, sure?”

“Great!” Mina walked over to the speaker on her desk, “I’m going to turn this up while we’re in there. It’ll just be a second, I swear.”

Katsuki pushed himself off the floor, slipping into the half bath. 

Mina’s bathroom was highlighted by pink. Pink towels, pink toothpaste, pink bathmat. Makeup lay scattered across the counter. A couple spilled powders and smears of mascara had yet to be wiped away. 

While Katsuki may be a stickler on cleanliness, something about Mina’s messy space was comforting. He leaned against the wall. There wasn’t much room here, but enough room for the two of them to have a decent amount of space. 

Mina shut the door. The music still loudly played over the speaker, effectively masking their voices from the outside. She leaned against the door, fixing him with a piercing look.

Katsuki met her eyes head on, “Yes?”

Mina melted into the wood, “I’m really worried about you, Blasty.”

“I’m f-”

“Please don’t say that,” Mina begged, voice cracking, “Please don’t push this off.”

Katsuki swallowed down the words he wanted to say. 

Mina’s piercing dark eyes roamed over Katsuki’s face. He felt a bit like a bug under a microscope. 

“Are you safe?” Mina blurted out.

“What do you mean?” 

She began to wrangle her hands together, fingers winding around each other. It was a nervous tic she shared with Izuku. Katsuki rarely saw Mina doing it, unless something was really bothering her.

Katsuki kinda missed the nerd. 

“Are you going to hurt yourself?” Mina asked hesitantly. There were tears collecting along her lash line, threatening to spill over her face, “I know we don’t talk as much lately, but I really care a lot about you, Blasty. And while I had some idea about what was going on, I didn’t know it was like this! I’m scared you’re going to do something, and I won’t have any idea until it's too late.”

“I’m not going to-”

“You already did,” Mina cried, sniffling and wiping the tears away before they could fall, “It was weeks ago, Katsuki. I know you’re going through a really difficult time. I know things have been really hard for you lately. I just wish you opened up and talked to me for once. Or not me, anyone! Kirishima, or Midoriya-”

“I’m not talking to the fucking traitor,” Katsuki snarled. 

Mina fixed him with another annoyed glare, “Yeah, I want to talk to you about that.”

Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest, “What about it?”

“Hold on, just let me finish first.”

“Sorry,” Katsuki mumbled. 

Mina took a moment to gather herself, inhaling deeply. 

“I love you, Katsuki. You’re one of my best friends. And I know that I’m the only girl in the group, and you don’t owe me anything, but it felt really shitty these past two weeks. No one was saying anything, just that you would say something if you wanted to. I felt really excluded. And now, I know it was a big deal. Obviously you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but all of our other friends knew too. 

“I guess- well, I think I just… kinda thought we were closer than that, you know? I want to be there for you. I want to help you, even if it's holding your hair back while you’re puking. But I want to be there. If you want me there, that is.”

Mina crumbled in on herself, tears in her eyes once again.

“I guess I just wanted to explain that to you and say, I’m here for you. Always, 24/7. Call or text me anytime and I’ll be there for you. Our experiences aren’t the same, but I get the suicide stuff. I- I tried to kill myself back in middle school. Actually, I don’t think Kirishima knows about it. We weren’t friends back then.”

“You tried to kill yourself?” Katsuki asked incredulously.

Mina smiled faintly, “Yeah. I don’t feel that way anymore, but it was really shitty back then. I’m on meds now, though. And I have a really amazing therapist.”

Katsuki can’t picture all of this getting better. These feelings have followed him for so long, haunting him like a shadow. It’s difficult to even picture what a happier version of him would look like. 

“You never think about it now?”

“Not really. Sometimes it still pops up, but it’s easier now to dismiss those thoughts. Sometimes it gets the best of me, and I have really bad days, but I don’t think I would try again. It hasn’t gotten that low in a long while.”

Katsuki was quiet for a moment. 

What Mina was telling him seemed like a far off dream. A creative daydream to pass the time. Something to wish for, beg and pray for, but never have.

“You want to live now?” Katsuki asks her, albeit gruffly. 

“Yeah, I do,” Mina picked away some blue nail polish from her thumb as she contemplated her next words, “What about you?”

“Do I want to live?” Katsuki reiterated.

“Yeah. Do you want to live?”

The question whirls around his brain. 

Do you want to live? Do you want to live, Katsuki? Live until you’re old and gray and decrepit? Live through all of life’s tribulations?  

The truth settled like a stone in his stomach.

“No,” Katsuki admitted flatly, “I tried to kill myself back in middle school. Same way. Pills. And Deku found me then, too.”

Mina gazes up at him, her dark eyes watery and sad. She has stopped chipping away at the nail polish on her fingernails. Her hands are quiet and still. 

“That must’ve been hard.”

Hard. A bit of an understatement, really. Katsuki hadn’t honestly imagined himself living to experience high school. 

Katsuki laughed bitterly, “Yeah. It fucking sucked.”

“I think you just have to find that one thing that makes you happy. That gives you purpose.”

And there it was. As always, the ‘just be happy’ and fucking smile, everything will get better! Katsuki loathed those sayings. 

And those people, although he never struck Mina as the type.

“I don’t have anything like that,” Katsuki muttered, a bit peeved at her shallow response, “If you’re one of those ‘just smile’ people, I will puke on you.”

Mina snorted, “Definitely not. I didn’t mean it like that, either.”

“How’d you mean it?” Katsuki humored her.

Mina hummed thoughtfully, mulling over the words. 

“Like there’s something out there that gives everyone purpose. And it’s different for every person, but it still means the same thing in the end.”

“Happiness?”

“Not exactly, but purpose. A meaning to all of this crazy madness,” Mina looked up at the ceiling, peering upwards as if she could see the sky.

“Everyone has a purpose. Maybe someone finds the meaning of life in a really good cup of tea. Or maybe it’s for their kids. But in the end, I believe that meaning is meaning. Does it really matter what it is, as long as you’ve found it?”

“I haven’t found it,” Katsuki followed her gaze towards the plaster overhead. The last time he had looked at the stars, Katsuki had a belly full of pills, “I don’t think I ever will.”

“You have to look for it really hard sometimes.”

“I’ve been looking,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, a thread of frustration weaving through his gut. “Fuck that. Maybe there’s no meaning to anything and life doesn’t matter.”

“Maybe,” Mina allowed him this, “But I don’t think so.”

“Well, I fucking do.”

Mina laughed, “Alright. Fair enough. Everyone has their own opinions.”

“Damn straight,” Katsuki deadpanned. He caved and let the smile he had smothered finally show. 

“Seriously though, please talk to me next time. I understand a bit of it, at least. Once again, you don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t have to,” Katsuki rolled his eyes again, “But I will. Thank you.”

Mina smiled sweetly, “Anytime, Blasty.”

“We probably shouldn’t leave those dumbasses hanging for much longer.”

“We still need to talk about Midoriya,” Mina reminded him, “We can do that another time, though.”

The big Izuku talk. 

Katsuki thought she was just trying to mend whatever had broken between them. 

It was a pointless endeavor, as Izuku’s friends had begun to realize. Katsuki noticed them pestering Izuku when they didn’t realize he could still hear them. 

But Izuku and Katsuki were stubborn as rocks. They would never fix this until it was forced in front of them, and not by anyone’s outside meddling. 

The absence of Izuku, that shadowy presence that was just always there, was killing Katsuki more than he’d like to admit.

“Sure, whatever.”

Katsuki held the door open for her, and Mina slipped past to turn the music down on her desk. He settled back into his old spot leaning up against the bed frame. Mina turned around with a brush and hair ties, staring at him pleadingly. 

Katsuki sighed and motioned her over. 

“Thanks, Blasty!” Mina chirped. 

She positioned herself behind him and began to run the brush through his hair. It felt really nice. A warm blanket of comfort fell over him, loosening the lingering tension in his muscles. He sunk deeper against the bed frame. Katsuki had to fight to keep his eyes open. 

“You guys took a bit,” Sero said. He was now adorning a face mask, and Kaminari was dutifully painting his nails a lovely shade of lilac. 

“We took as long as we needed to,” Mina said matter of factly, “I see Kirishima has convinced you of the benefits of skin care?”

“Skin care is manly,” Kirishima interjected from where he was flicking through his phone on Sero’s other side, “Also, does anyone have any song recommendations?”

“I’m doing your nails next, dude!” Kaminari grinned.

“What color are you guys doing?” Mina asked.

“Purple,” Sero grunted.

Kirishima opened his mouth, happy to tell them the color of his choice when Katsuki rushed to beat him.

“I bet you anything that Shitty Hair is doing red,” Katsuki said quickly. 

Kirishima pouted while the others burst out in laughter. 

“I wouldn’t take that bet,” Kaminari cackled. 

“Me either,” Mina admitted between giggles. 

“Aw, c’mon guys,” Kirishima whined, “Maybe I picked black this time.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, “Well did you?”

Kirishima sighed, deflating like a balloon. “No.”

“There you have it, then,” Katsuki snorted, “Someone owes me something.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Sero denied proudly.

Katsuki turned to Sero and Kaminari, grinning madly, “You should-”

“Blasty! Stop moving so much,” Mina complained, “They don’t owe you anything, for the record. No one was stupid enough to take that bet.”

Now it was Katsuki’s turn to pout. 

“I’ll do your nails for you,” Kaminari offered.

“You were going to do them regardless,” Katsuki grumbled.

“That’s true.”

For the rest of the night, Mina led the charge. She put on some sappy romantic movie that Katsuki vehemently protested, even though secretly he loved the film. Mina shot him a knowing look when the others were busy making the popcorn and fetching the blankets. 

They all ended up bundled in layers of fluffy blankets on the floor. 

As the movie played, Katsuki felt the last little bit of tension bleed away from his body. He leaned against Kirishima’s shoulder shamelessly, laughing along with the rest of them as the main character made a fool of themselves in front of their love interest. 

Mina was situated on his left side. Halfway in, after the others were on the cusp of sleep, Mina reached over, took his hand in hers and squeezed. 

He glanced over at her.

“I’m really happy you’re still here, Katsuki,” Mina murmured quietly. 

Maybe it was the genuine softness in her eyes. Maybe it was the way she didn’t fold and cry at the thought of Katsuki’s attempt. Maybe it was because he knew she understood.

Whatever the reason behind it was, Katsuki didn’t care. Because for the first time, he felt something warm melt inside his chest at the words. Katsuki allowed a small smile to ghost his lips and squeezed her hand back.

It was the most peaceful Katsuki has felt in a long, long while. 

The next day, Shota pulled Katsuki aside after classes ended. 

Mina and Kirishima paused by the door and didn’t leave until Katsuki motioned for them to leave. Mina flashed him a brilliant smile as she walked backwards out the door, shooting finger guns his way and winking. 

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but by that time she wasn’t there to see it. 

Mina had promised him they would hang out and talk about things after classes today. Katsuki wasn’t too worried. He felt bad about the way everything had happened these past three weeks, and resolved to make it up to her somehow. 

Even though she swore he didn’t have to. 

“How’s everything going, kid?” Shota asked him first, leaning against his desk. 

Katsuki shrugged, hands in his pockets and backpack already on, “Fine, I guess.”

“You feel prepared for the exam this weekend?”

Katsuki nodded, “Fuckin’ obviously.”

“You understand the procedures?”

“Yes.”

“How are your ultimate moves coming along?”

“Why the fuck are you asking me this now? They’re great. Everything is fine,” Katsuki snapped.

Shota quirked an eyebrow, “Relax, kid. I’m just making sure.”

Katsuki crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, “What did you really want to talk to me about?”

Shota studied him for a moment. His dark eyes flickered over Katsuki head to toe. Then he released a sigh and straightened up.

“Your mother’s arraignment hearing is coming up.”

Katsuki blanched, “The fuck? When?”

The light, airy glow of happiness still lingering from last night dissipated like fog in the sun. 

In truth, Katsuki hadn’t thought about the trials and court appearances that had been slowly approaching. Everything happened so quickly, he’d barely had the time to sit and think about it. 

A strong wave of guilt crashed over him. Katsuki swallowed hard to try and dispel the lump settling in his throat. 

Shota looked like he swallowed a lemon, “Saturday.”

“During the fucking test?” Katsuki confirmed. The words seemed to echo in the empty space around them.

Shota nodded.

“Do I-” Katsuki licked his lips. His mouth was dry, “Do I need to be there?”

Shota’s eyes softened, “No, Katsuki. Not unless you want to be there.”

“No,” Katsuki said quickly, “I don’t.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you want.” 

Katsuki bit his lip. 

Some part of him wanted Shota to demand he see his mother. To force him into facing her. Without it, Katsuki wondered if he would ever find the courage himself.

It felt silly to be so scared of her now, after all this time. She had only tried to help him, time and time again. 

Katsuki knew this. He had lived with her, cared for her and loved her. Even though she wasn’t always the best, Katsuki knew she meant well. She loved him. She had to.

And yet, even though he dreaded when she called him home, he had never felt this level of fear towards her. 

Katsuki didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him. 

“There’s something else.”

Shota was still studying him. 

“Yes,” Shota began.

Katsuki waited. He didn’t dare say anything. His throat felt swollen shut, and there was that familiar burn of tears that he absolutely hated. 

Katsuki dug his nails into the flesh of his palms instead, preparing himself for whatever was coming next.

“Just spit it out,” he found himself desperately urging.

“Hizashi and I are concerned that this might not be the best time for you to take the exam,” Shota finally said, carefully, like Katsuki was going to explode.

“What?” He asked hoarsely.

“We wanted to ask you first,” Shota continued to explain, “And make sure that you feel confident and prepared enough. Saturday is going to be a difficult time-”

“Fuck you, I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care about the trial?”

“No,” Katsuki lied, “I don’t care. I don’t want to be there. I just want to fucking take the test with everyone else.”

“If that’s what you want, kid, that’s fine.”

“Then why the fuck are you asking me?” Katsuki asked. 

Shota was back to studying Katsuki again. He had the feeling Shota could see right through him. Like he knew that Katsuki was maybe a couple minutes away from breaking apart.

Why can’t I have just one day where everything goes perfectly fucking fine? Katsuki thought sadly. 

“Why don’t we sit down in my office?” Shota suggests.

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “Why?” He demands. 

“No reason, kid. I just want to have a conversation with you.”

“And this isn’t a fucking conversation?” Katsuki snaps, pushing past the thrum of nervous energy. 

His hands begin to tremble, and he shoves them in his pockets quickly. 

Shota picks up on the sudden movement, his dark eyes zeroing in on the gesture Katsuki had no hope to hide. He doesn’t speak. Instead, he begins to walk down the rows of desks and towards the door, expecting Katsuki to follow him. 

He does. 

Shota doesn’t say much of anything on the walk to his office. Katsuki doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with meaningless words or conversation. He thinks of his mother, somewhere out there in this world, of the impending trial and what she must think of it all, and of Izuku, and everything they had and lost. 

Katsuki knew he was an asshole. And that he treated Izuku like shit. And that Izuku definitely deserved better. 

There was a time where Katsuki told Izuku everything and anything. When they would whisper secrets to each other, or hold hands in the hallways between classes, or when they would spiral into conversations that never ended until someone intervened and physically drug one of them away. 

It wasn’t that long ago. 

And yet, to Katsuki it felt like an eternity. He was so mad at Izuku. Well, he thought he was for a time. But then as the distance seemed to grow larger and larger, Katsuki realized he never hated him at all. 

Katsuki hated himself. 

He hated the way he shattered the intrinsic trust between them. He hated the way he pushed anyone who wanted to help him away. He hated the way he was made. 

Bitter, twisted and defensive. And so fucking angry. Empty. Broken. Fucking waste of space. 

Katsuki hatedhatedhatedhatedhated himself. 

He became so adrift in these darker thoughts that Katsuki never realized when they did arrive at Shota's office. He didn’t snap out of the blanket of self hatred until his name broke through the mental fog. 

“Katsuki.”

He looked up. 

Shota was frowning- when was he not? -that familiar mixture of concern painted blatantly on his face. 

“I was calling your name for a while,” Shota says, brows furrowing a bit deeper, “What were you thinking about?”

Katsuki could never share this with him. He didn’t want the classic, overused ‘You’re worth it! ’ pep talk. 

Instead, Katsuki did what he always did.

He lied.

“The fucking exam tomorrow,” he mutters, crossing his arms. His eyes wander throughout the office. 

Katsuki had never been here before. 

There was a desk, cluttered and overflowing with stacks of books, files and miscellaneous papers. There were a couple awards hung on the walls, none that Katsuki recognized or had ever heard of. And two worn, cushioned armchairs in front of the desk. 

Altogether, it was a small and slightly cramped space. The collective mess only added to this atmosphere. 

Katsuki hated the smaller space. The walls felt too close. The air felt stale in his lungs. 

He forced himself to inhale and exhale on a steady rhythm. 

“The exam?” Shota questions further. The man moves to sit in one of the armchairs in front of the desk and gestures for Katsuki to do the same.

“Yeah.”

Shota hums but doesn’t follow that line of questioning any further, “I noticed you haven’t been talking to Midoriya lately,” he comments blandly.

Katsuki scowls reflexively, “And?”

Shota begins to look a bit ruffled by the brusk manner of Katsuki’s responses. He shifts around in the chair. Katsuki remains still as Shota ponders his next move. 

The atmosphere of the office has become stifling. 

“We don’t want you to overwork yourself,” Shota finally says lamely.

Katsuki can't resist not rolling his eyes at the statement, “I’m not. I’m fine.”

“Kid,” Shota says incredulously, “It’s okay if you need a day-”

The frustration bubbles over.

“Don’t,” Katsuki hisses harshly. 

“Shota, I’ve been working my ass off for this. I have every fucking word of rescue procedures memorized. I could recite them to you in my goddamn sleep. I can do my fucking Howitzer Impact with my eyes closed. 

“I’m fucking ready. I don’t want to be at the trial. I don’t want to see her, okay? I just want to be there, with everyone fucking else, and take this shitty exam. Okay?”

Katsuki is left with his chest heaving, sparks flying off his clenched fists, standing over Shota. Somewhere in his outburst he stood up. The anger still burns hot inside of him, but realizing that he yelled at his guardian, his teacher, and the man who was putting a roof over his head washed all of that away like freezing water. 

Before he could begin to stammer his way through an apology, Shota nodded.

“Okay, kid. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

He doesn’t even look remotely close to being annoyed. 

“W-what?” Katsuki blinked stupidly. He’s staring at Shota’s hands. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact. 

This is a lie. Mitsuki lied, too. She would paste a cheery smile and then backhand Katsuki across the face without hesitation. 

Katsuki is still waiting for the other shoe to drop but Shota doesn’t make any move to hit him. Instead, he continues speaking in the same calm, level voice he uses when he’s explaining something to the class.  

“I want to make sure you’re not pushing yourself. I’ll trust your word on it. But if you change your mind or want to take the test another time, talk to me and we’ll figure it out. There’s a lot going on in your life. A lot of difficult things for anyone.

"I want to give you that option. If things get to be too much, talk to Hizashi or I and we’ll do whatever we can to make things easier for you.”

Katsuki’s mind is still reeling. 

Make things easier? What the fuck?

“I don’t need a cop out,” Katsuki says quietly, still floundering from the absence of pain. The muscles in his shoulders remain tense, waiting for a hit that has not yet arrived, “I’m not weak.”

“It’s not a cop out,” Shota shakes his head. The capture weapon adorning his neck rustles, “You’re not weak. In fact, I would say you are one of the strongest people I know. This is only if you need extra time or help with the exam or classes- anything, really.”

None of this is making any sense. Katsuki wants to ask, he wants to hold Shota accountable and ask why the fuck he isn't being punished, but the fear holds him in place. 

“Bullshit.”

He doesn’t want to be hurt but Shota is treating him like he can’t handle this. Maybe that's why he hasn’t made a move against him yet. Katsuki is too weak to take it. 

“I’m serious,” Shota insists. 

“Why haven’t you-” Katsuki shuts his jaw with an audible click, but the unfinished sentence hangs over the pair like a dark cloud. 

“Why haven’t I what?” 

Shota doesn’t look angry. He doesn’t look pissed off that Katsuki continues to interrupt him. He still hasn’t budged from his seat in the chair. 

Katsuki is so fucking lost. 

Maybe that’s why he finally gathers enough courage to ask the question. 

“Why haven't you hit me?”

The question is whispered hesitantly but even now, Shota makes no move to lunge forward. In fact, the older man doesn’t even shift in his seat. 

“I’m never going to hit you.”

“Why?” Katsuki blurts out, “I don’t get it. I keep fucking up, so why haven’t you punished me?”

Shota looks pained now, his expression pinched and eyes a bit darker as he says, “Katsuki, you are doing everything you are supposed to. No parent, guardian, or adult should ever raise a hand against a child. No matter the situation. I will never hit you.”

“How else am I supposed to learn?”

Shota’s shoulders definitely sag a bit after Katsuki says this, as if this question carries a weight too burdensome to carry easily.  

“There are many other ways to teach a child that don’t involve physical measures. If you, for some reason, needed to be reprimanded for something, I would ground you first. Or take a privilege away.”

Katsuki understands; Mitsuki would refuse to feed him when she was too lazy to hit him. Or she would lock him in the closet with quirk restraints so he couldn’t escape. 

He already knows Shota has access to the muzzle and restraints used on him during the Sports Festival ceremony. 

“Like food?” 

Shota’s face crumples, “No, food isn’t a privilege. I meant something like your phone or a gaming console. Food is a human right and should never be withheld for punishment.”

Food was a human right? But Mitsuki took food away as punishment. She hit him, too. Katsuki turned out fine. Better than fine, actually. He had more discipline than any of his classmates, barring Shoto. So what if the punishments were harsher than necessary? 

Katsuki was fine. He was great. Fucking fantastic.

“Some kids just need harsher methods,” Katsuki tells him flatly. 

His mother wasn’t wrong. Every kid needed to fear their parents a little. Without it, there was no respect. 

But Shota is shaking his head. 

“No child deserves that.”

What a fucking liar. They chained him up during the fucking Sports Festival, and suddenly that was too harsh? As if that fucking stopped them before.

Katsuki scowls, “Oh, fuck you,” he snarls. 

Shota’s eyes go wide and his eyebrows raise as if he’s surprised, but Katsuki knows he’s faking it. 

“Excuse me?”

Katsuki doesn’t want to listen to this shit any longer. 

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” Katsuki spits as he stalks away, nearly ripping the door off its hinges as he makes his exit.

“Katsuki, wait-” 

Shota calls after him, but Katsuki is already halfway down the hall. Before the pro hero can get a chance, Katsuki has turned the corner and is out of sight. 

As soon as Katsuki realizes that he isn’t being followed, the anger burns away to fear, racing through his veins like lightning.  

Katsuki did it again. He told himself he wouldn’t, that he would be a better person, but once again, he fucked everything up. He lost his temper and yelled at the man who fed him and took care of him. Who fucking does that? 

'No child deserves that.' Shota’s voice whispered through his mind. 

He was wrong. Katsuki deserved it. He deserved every part of it. 

It kind of sunk into him, then. The weight of who he was and who he was failing to be. As each breath filtered in and out of his lungs, Katsuki hated himself more and more. 

He was a terrible son. Mitsuki had sacrificed so much for him over the years. Katsuki had been nothing more than a burden, causing problem after problem. Any other parent would have turned to alcohol and stricter measures too. 

And what had he done? Thrown his own mother to the wolves. Pointed a finger and cast the blame without looking in the fucking mirror. 

Katsuki felt sick with guilt. 

It was only a matter of time before Shota did the same. Before Katsuki ruined everything good in his life as well. 

It was what he was made for. 

When Katsuki finally slipped into the dorms, he had managed to wrestle the nasty mess of emotions back into the furthest corner of his mind. He still has to deal with Mina, and this Izuku nonsense she’s been pestering him about. 

Speaking of the devil, Izuku was nestled on one of the common room couches. Uraraka just exited the kitchen, carrying two steaming mugs. Todoroki and Iida were sprawled on the opposing couch, leaning over the coffee table with their homework already spread out between them.

Izuku was the only one to notice Katsuki’s silent arrival. 

For a moment, the two boys stared openly at each other. The guilt Katsuki had been feeling earlier reared its ugly head, and with it, a fierce sense of longing. 

Katsuki quickly looked away, unable to bear the knowing gleam in those green eyes any longer. He walks past their little group hangout to the elevator, aptly avoiding eye contact. 

“-just a sec-”

There were a couple hurried footsteps, and a pointed finger poked his shoulder in a familiar manner.

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki froze, hand outstretched and ready to hit the button. When had he last heard that nickname spoken so tenderly? The guilt festering from earlier returns full force, tinged with irritation. 

“What do you want, Deku?” Katsuki asked gruffly, refusing to turn around. One look from Izuku, and Katsuki knew he would crumble like sand. 

“Please, can I talk to you?” Izuku begged.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

“Just leave me alone.” 

The words tasted like poison, but Katsuki allowed them to fall from his lips. The guilt churns in his stomach, eating away at his resolve. In his chest, Katsuki’s heart writhes like a nest of angry snakes. 

Why does the fucking idiot have to approach him now? As if Katsuki can handle any more confrontations today. What happened to ‘needing space’ ? 

“Oh,” Izuku murmurs quietly. 

The lone word held every aching part of him. Katsuki desperately wants to turn around and sink to his knees to beg Izuku for forgiveness, but his pride holds his feet firmly in place. And there is the sour reminder that Izuku betrayed his trust, yet again. 

Midoriya mentioned some things. 

Midoriya told me this wasn’t your first attempt. 

Midoriya mentioned you drank a bit in the past?

Katsuki doesn’t know how to feel anymore.

Mostly he misses him, but there is still this raging part of him that still hurts from the broken trust. Even now, he can’t quite manage to meet Izuku’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” Izuku whispers.

Katsuki doesn’t push the button yet. He listens for the meak retreat, each footstep a violent stomp on his aching heart. 

The guilt laps at his heels. He wants to ask, how could you do that to me? How could you tell him everything, even after what happened last time? 

Everything could still go so horribly wrong. 

It was only a matter of time before Shota gave up on him, or hurt him, or left him. Especially after today, he had to realize what a lost cause Katsuki was. Everyone would see that Mitsuki had it right all along. 

Katsuki feels like he’s drowning. All of the suppressed emotions from earlier swell up to suffocate him. 

Frantically, Katsuki presses the button and slips into the lift before Izuku can notice how wet his own eyes have become. The doors close behind him. Katsuki leans against the wall and remembers the night Izuku had helped him when he could hardly stand. 

How had everything gone so wrong between them?  

It felt like these days, all Katsuki did was lose people. Whether he pushed them away or they left, Katsuki lost them regardless. And the holes they left behind made him feel especially hollow.

Katsuki sniffled, wrapping his arms around himself. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture Izuku holding him instead. 

Izuku was better off without him, though. All Katsuki ever did was hurt him. Izuku didn’t need him. Izuku was perfectly happy without Katsuki around. Eventually, Izuku wouldn’t even miss him. 

Katsuki was sure of it.

When the elevator opened up to Mina’s floor, Katsuki had pulled himself together again. By the time he knocks on the door Katsuki is positive he’s wrangled his emotions back into the background. 

Mina opens the door, takes one glance at him, and her happy smile melts away, “Get in,” she tells him first.

Katsuki slips inside. 

Mina has already laid out spicy chips and drinks, all his favorites. The sight of it freezes him in his tracks. Katsuki hadn’t realized Mina would have ever taken note of that sort of thing, or even cared enough to go out of her way to buy them for him. 

She’s not the biggest fan of spice, but she enjoys it often enough. So he knows these aren’t her go to flavors, or even flavors she would ever buy for herself. 

She bought them for him. 

Tears are welling in his eyes against his will. 

“Are you okay?” Mina asks him softly.

When Katsuki turns around, a small noise escapes her at the sight of his face. 

“Oh, honey,” Mina murmurs, stepping forward, “Can I hug you?”

Katsuki nods curtly, attempting to hold himself together in spite of her realization. She immediately steps closer, wrapping her arms around him. Mina gives the best hugs. She mastered the art of comfort. 

Katsuki felt like the antithesis to comfort sometimes. 

He was all sharp angles and jagged edges, where Mina was gentle curves and soothing warmth. She was smiling, sunshine and brightness. Katsuki was scowling, darkness and anger. He was violently present to her passive existence. 

In this way, Mina reminded him of Izuku. 

Izuku was all sunshine and rainbows, too. Katsuki always admired that about him, that in the face of this bitter world, Izuku was still so warm . 

He admired the same traits in Mina. Although, she was a bit more of a brilliant shining light in a room full of people, while Izuku was the warm, softer sunset. 

So different and yet, all the same. 

Katsuki didn’t fit in with Mina and the rest. He was a dark cloud hanging overhead. A constant threat of the world’s darkness. They were innocent and naive. 

Katsuki did not want to be the one to ruin them. 

“I miss him,” Katsuki says into her shoulder. 

There’s a growing wet patch from the escaping tears. Mina doesn’t comment on it. She doesn’t even mention the way his shoulders begin to shake. 

“Midoriya?” Mina whispers. Her hands ghost over his back, rubbing his shoulder blades soothingly. 

Katsuki can’t even remember when someone would have ever done this for him. That line of thought seems dangerous; Katsuki knows he won’t like the answer. 

Instead he thinks of Izuku, of his easy smiles and warm laughter. 

“Yes,” Katsuki admits. 

Eventually Katsuki actually pulled his shit together. For good this time. He swears it. 

They both sit on Mina’s bed. Katsuki is leaning up against the wall. Mina is cozied up in the corner, where the bed meets the wall. A bowl of chips rests between them. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Katsuki says. 

“Midoriya,” Mina says, popping a chip in her mouth. 

“Yeah, but what about him?”

“I could tell you missed him. Then you come up here and admit it to me.”

Katsuki reaches for the bowl, “I can never get away from him.”

Mina raises an eyebrow, “Do you really want to?”

Katsuki shrugs, “I don’t fucking know.”

“Right,” Mina eyes him up and down, “If you want my opinion-”

“Which I never asked for.”

“-right, but you’re gonna get it regardless,” Mina shuffles closer, looking serious, “Midoryia misses you a lot. I don’t know what happened between you guys, but maybe try talking to him about it. It’s obvious you guys mean a lot to each other. Don’t let whatever this is come between you.”

Katsuki stays quiet. 

He wants to make up with Izuku. He really does. And this is ignoring the fact that Izuku decided to spill all of Katsuki’s secrets to fucking Shota, in spite of the consequences from last time. 

Sure, Katsuki was pretty fucked up, he’ll admit it. But still, there were some things the bastard could’ve left out and chose not to. Like the way Katsuki just wants to fucking drink sometimes.

Mina squints towards the opposite wall, “What happened between you two?”

The question sends Katsuki into a whirlwind of memories. 

From the age of three, playing in the park and silly playdates. The innocent and happy middle to the murky, distant present. Where had they both gone wrong? They used to orbit each other's lives with such easy, flowing grace. Now they could barely meet each other’s eyes. 

The bittersweetness of it wrangled his stomach. This was his fault, Katsuki knew it, but Izuku would be happier without him. Katsuki knew he was going to hurt him in some way, and Izuku needed to be far away from him, so that would never fucking happen. 

Still, Katsuki missed Izuku so fucking much.

“I don’t know.”

Mina hesitates, searching his face, “He means well, you know? I think he just really wanted to help you.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “What do you know?” He demanded.

Mina just shrugs in response, “Midoriya hasn’t told me anything, if that’s what you mean,” Her eyes soften before she looks away, “I remember that night you came in drunk and bleeding. I started to piece some things together after I saw you.”

After this, she takes a deep breath in, “But it wasn’t until after you disappeared those couple days. Midoriya, he just looked so-” Mina swallows hard, “Well, I knew something really bad had happened to you. And that it was because you went home.”

Katsuki feels like the walls are getting closer. Now, he is the one who can’t meet her eyes. Instead he stares at the floor and tries to decide whether to lie or confirm it. 

“You don’t have to say anything. I wasn’t trying to spring this on you.”

Katsuki shrugs, trying to act like the world still isn’t falling to pieces around him, “You know what I did,” he begins hesitantly, “Deku told Aizawa about everything. Like, every fucking thing.”

“Is that why you’re not talking right now?”

“Fucking- I don’t know.”

Mina frowns, “Why don’t you just talk to him? I’m sure you guys will figure it out.”

Katsuki swallows heavily. He begins to scratch at the scabs around his fingernails, evidence from all of the other times he’s recently picked the skin away, “I don’t think I want to.”

Mina doesn’t say anything, so Katsuki pushes onward.

“I’m only telling you this because you kind of get it,” Katsuki begins, his voice rough and shaky, “I know he was trying to help. I fucking get it, okay? It’s just better if he stays away from me. All I do is hurt people. I’ve hurt Deku a lot and I don’t want to do that anymore.”

Mina’s brows furrowed, “Katsuki, how would you hurt him?”

He exhales, “I don’t fucking try to. Sometimes it just happens. No matter what I’m trying to do, I end up fucking up somehow.”

Mina places a hand on his forearm, and Katsuki drags his eyes over to hers.

“I’m sure he knows that,” she says soothingly, “People make mistakes, it’s a part of life. It’s okay. As long as you’re doing your best and you apologize, I'm sure it’s fine.”

Katsuki shakes his head violently, “You don’t get it.”

“Explain it to me.”

He drops his head in his hands, frustrated and angry, “It’s just- everything is falling apart and I can’t fix it!”

“It’s okay, Blasty. Just take it one thing at a time-”

“No,” Katsuki lifts his head, turning to look at her. Everything is wrangled into knots inside of him, “I’m fucking pissed at him, and I have no right, but I just can’t stop.”

“Why are you mad at him?” Mina asks, “Because he told Aizawa those things?”

Katsuki nods sharply.

“It’s okay to be mad at him for that.”

“No it’s not. He was just trying to help. I know he was.”

“You’re right,” Mina says, “But he still told Aizawa a lot of personal things about you. It’s okay to feel upset or mad at him because of that.”

“Did that ever happen to you?”

Mina shakes her head, “Not exactly. I told my friends everything that was going on. I had this one friend, and she was the one that pushed me into speaking with a teacher about what was happening. I didn’t want to, but she would’ve gone without me to tell them. I didn’t really have a choice. I was mad at her afterwards. Even if she didn’t tell them herself, she still forced me into that position, even if it was to help me.”

Mina pauses. She moves the chip bowl out of the way and scoots closer to Katsuki’s side. He can feel the warmth from her even if they’re not touching. 

“You told Midoriya those things in confidence. They were very personal to you. Then he went around and told the exact person you didn’t want to know. It’s okay to be mad at him. He hurt your trust even if he meant well.”

Mina doesn’t comment on the tears in his eyes. Katsuki feels a rush of gratitude towards her. Where Kirishima would have just explained what Katsuki already knew, or overloaded him with positive, encouraging words, Mina understood. She had stood where he stood, felt what he felt. 

“Hurting is a part of life. I think Midoryia would rather hurt with you than be away from you,” Mina scrunches up her nose, “Does that make sense? It made more sense in my head.”

Katsuki laughs, “Yeah, I got it.”

Mina beams, “Good. Are you going to make up with him? The tension is killing me.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Well, if you do, good luck. I’m sure you guys will work everything out.”

Mina shifts further away and pulls the chip bowl back in between them. Katsuki snags another before she gets the chance. 

Mina leans back against the wall and peers up at the ceiling. For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Katsuki watches her, waiting for whatever problem she’s wrangling within her head to be solved.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, Midoriya means a lot to you. And I really think he misses you too. He’s your best friend,” Mina finally tells him.

“He’s more than that,” Katsuki admits to her. 

Even to himself, the feeling and words get all mangled together. Izuku is his best friend, of course he is. Well, maybe not so much now but before he definitely was. Izuku was more than that, he wasn’t a brother, but something different. Something Katsuki didn’t know the exact word for yet. 

Mina is watching him with careful, guarded eyes. Katsuki gets the feeling like she knows more than she’s letting on. 

That wouldn’t make sense, though. 

Mina couldn’t ever hope to understand the weird mess that was Izuku and Katsuki. He wasn’t sure if they would ever figure it out, either. Maybe they were always destined to orbit each other, constantly pushing and pulling the other, never quite figuring out how to dance in tandem. 

“He’s always fucking been there, and now he’s not. It feels like- well, like-” Katsuki scrunches up his nose, struggling to name it. 

It shouldn’t be this hard but Katsuki finds the explanation is lost to him. Mina is still watching and waiting. She is giving him all the space he needs to spit this thing out and then some. 

How could Katsuki ever explain what Izuku is to him?

Izuku was like a fucking sun-brilliant and warm. Everything he did spread heat and light and everything fucking good in the world. He was bubbly and friendly and perfect. 

How could Katsuki ever compare? 

It’s not like Izuku was amazing all of the time. He still pissed Katsuki off whenever they were together. Always too forgiving, too mellow, or too passive. 

In a way, they balanced each other out. Like Katsuki was the moon to Izuku’s sun. Katsuki’s bleeding darkness to Izuku’s eternal light. 

“He’s like my other half,” Katsuki finally told her. The words come out fragile and quiet. Tentatively, as if Katsuki’s admission will ruin everything that is following between them.

“Without him, there’s like this massive hole in my chest. I can’t fill it. I can’t forget it, either. But when he’s there, when he’s right there with me, I can actually feel whole again.”

Mina’s eyes are glimmering with unshed tears, although a smile tugs her mouth upwards. 

“Tell him. You have to tell him, Blasty.”

Katsuki snorts. The warmth, even just from thinking about him, dissipates at the thought of speaking with Izuku about any of this. 

“Yeah right.”

“He won’t judge you. I’m sure he feels the same way,” Mina says encouragingly, “You can’t just keep that to yourself. You have to fix this and get him back.”

Katsuki frowns. Why is Mina so caught up in this? It almost seems like they’re talking about two entirely different things.

“I know he feels the same way. But telling him isn’t going to change anything,” Katsuki dismisses with a shrug.

“What are you talking about?” Mina demands, “There’s no way Midoriya would just ignore all of that.”

Katsuki shrugs again, “I don’t know what to fucking tell you, Mina.”

“But you just-” Mina blinks owlishly, “Katsuki, how can you say all of that, and not date him?”

“Date him? Why the fuck would I date him?”

“Are you serious?” Mina leans forward quickly, staring Katsuki down in disbelief, “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Katsuki shifts around uncomfortably, “We dated back in middle school, but-”

“OH MY GOD!” Mina screams.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Katsuki yells, slapping his hands over his ears, “Calm down, it’s not that fucking serious.”

“You dated Midoryia? Midoriya and you?” 

Katsuki rolls his eyes. There’s no need for screaming, all of this shit was in the past, “Yes, now why are you being so-”

“Oh my god,” Mina’s eyes widened, and the color drained from her face, “I have to tell someone. I have to-”

“Okay, fucking stop cutting me off,” Katsuki growled, “And stop making a big deal out of nothing. That was two years ago, and it has nothing to do with anything now.”

“Not have to do with-” Mina jumped up, hands on her hips as she looked at Katsuki incredulously, “But you’re in love with him, how is that irrelevant?”

“When the fuck did I say I loved him?” Katsuki yelped, face suddenly burning as he blushed to the tips of his ears. 

Mina’s jaw dropped and she slapped a hand over her mouth. They stood there in dumb silence before suddenly she rushed forward, placing both hands on his legs, “Blasty! How can you say all of that stuff, like, ‘He’s my other half’ and not know that you’re in love with him?”

She drops her voice in a mock imitation of him. 

Somehow his face burned even hotter. 

“That is not the same,” Katsuki hurriedly explained, “We’re close, that’s all. Just friends.”

“Yeah, for now,” Mina rolled her eyes, “Can you honestly say that you feel the same way about me, since we’re ‘friends’ as you put it.”

Katsuki paled, “That is not the same.”

“Hah!” Mina jumped up from the bed again, raising a triumphant fist in the air, “I knew it! I fucking called this months ago, and Denki told me I was crazy.”

“You are fucking crazy!”

“No I’m not~” Mina sang happily, “Admit it! You’re in love with him.”

“No I’m fucking not,” Katsuki vehemently denied.

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are~” Mina trilled with a smile. 

“Fuck off.”

Mina couldn’t stop smiling, even as she held her hands up in defeat. 

“Fine, stay in denial. But when you do finally ask him out, I will be telling you ‘I told you so’ and-” at this, Katsuki tries to intervene but she holds up a finger to shut him up, “And you owe me dinner of my choosing.”

“And what the fuck happens when we stay friends?” Katsuki deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mina taps her foot, “Hm. Well, since that won’t be happening-”

“I swear to fucking god-”

“Fine! I’ll make you dinner.”

“I don’t want your shitty food,” Katsuki grumbles. 

“And you’ll never have to suffer through it,” Mina tells him as she smirks confidently. She sighs and flops back down on the bed, “You guys are so perfect for each other.”

Katsuki stands up immediately, “Okay, you need to cut that shit out or I’m leaving,” he threatens. He’s only semi-serious. 

Mina pouts, “Fine. My lips are sealed.”

“Thank god,” Katsuki falls backwards on the bed next to her, “Let’s talk about something else.”

"Fine," Mina agrees, only pouting a little bit.

The rest of the night is spent eating spicy chips and watching corny movies. Mina tells him all about her crush on Kirishima between bites. It's pretty sappy, but Katsuki listens to her ramble on about his smile anyway. He can't deny that they would work well together. 

When Katsuki finally flops down on his bed for the night, he feels lighter than he has in weeks.  

Chapter Text

Throughout the next day, Katsuki could not get the conversation with Mina out of his mind. As he ran through his notes the final day before the exam, images of Izuku’s stupid green eyes and frustratingly cute smile would pop in his head. 

To make matters worse, it continued on into the following night. 

It had been a couple weeks since Katsuki had last struggled with sleeping through the night, although this time it was because his stupid brain wouldn’t shut up. He should be worrying about the exam, not his- could he say love life? Should he? 

Regardless, it was fucking juvenile, and yet, his heart never got the message. The organ kept racing at these ridiculous tangents, and then his face would heat up. Why was he entertaining these kinds of thoughts about Izuku? Katsuki was better than this. It was like he told Mina, they were friends. Really, really great friends. 

(Some of the time.)

Katsuki wasn’t some girl blushing at a crush, he was better than that.  

Izuku was just different, he always had been. Sure, they dated that one time in middle school, but that was only a stupid kid sort of thing. Strictly experimental, and it hadn’t panned out well for either of them in the end. 

They grew up together. Katsuki and Izuku had always been side by side, for nearly every phase of life. They were bound to be closer than normal best friends, and that was why he didn’t feel as strongly towards the others. It wasn’t love. 

Right?

Katsuki just wanted to sleep. He had a myriad of other things going on tomorrow, the last thing he needed to do was waste hours thinking about Izuku.

Fucking nerd. Even when they weren’t on speaking terms he still managed to worm his way in and ruin things.

Katsuki should be thinking of the impending trial with his mother, or the important exam in the morning, or the still very free, extremely dangerous members of the League running around. He should be thinking of literally anything but this.

By the time the first morning rays broke through his window, Katsuki was still awake. He managed to knock out for maybe five hours in total, but sleep occurred too sparingly for it to make any difference.

Katsuki had a really bad feeling about how this day was going to pan out. It had to be testing anxiety. Usually, Katsuki doesn't get nervous for tests. He was always far too prepared. However, this exam impacted his future career as a hero. There was a lot riding on his performance today and Katsuki couldn’t afford to mess up. He needed to be perfect.

He was a hero. Today would prove it. Once and for all.

Katsuki bustled through his morning routine. He skipped the early run he typically began his day with in favor of scanning through his notes one final time. Everything was familiar. All of the procedures he had memorized down to the letter.

Satisfied, Katsuki begins to warm up to the excitement of the day as he heads down to the kitchen to snag a light breakfast. Most of his classmates are beginning to stir, and he finds Sero seated at the table when he enters the common room. His friend looks a bit stressed. Sero’s knee is bouncing like crazy and he barely glances up from his collection of papers scattered around him as Katsuki passes by.

“Hey,” Sero grunts absentmindedly as he flips to the next page in a textbook outlining water rescues. 

“Hey.” 

Sero has already stopped listening, offering no acknowledgment as his eyes frantically roam the page. 

Katsuki doesn’t mind. He’s a bit surprised there’s no one else down here trying to cram last minute information into their skulls. He would join the anxiety-ridden race against time, but he felt confident he knew the material. Last minute info dumping would only stress him out even more. 

Katsuki was excited to get his license. Once he was certified, it would open up many pre-employment opportunities. Since UA decided to allow first years to begin work studies, he would be able to participate on missions with various pro-heroes. And he was so fucking ready.

It doesn’t take long for the rest of his classmates to filter downstairs. Most of them center around the tables and couches, skipping breakfast to study just a tiny bit more. 

These past few weeks, they had all studied for hours on end and practiced until they nearly collapsed. Even though practically every student in class 1-A had the procedures memorized, it didn’t help dampen the anxiety.

In seemingly no time at all, they were all shuffled onto a bus and pulling away from the grounds of UA high school. 

The squad all sat close to each other. Kaminari and Sero sat together in the row next to Kirishima and Katsuki, and Mina sat with Uraraka in front of them. And beyond the two girls, Izuku sat with Iida. 

After a couple tense minutes of silence, Mina stood on her knees, turning around to face the rest of their group. 

“Guys, I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Sero replied, although Katsuki had watched him frantically cramming the material earlier.

“Yeah, like that’ll help,” Kaminari muttered as he bounced his knee, arms crossed over his chest.

Sero rubbed his arm sympathetically, “Don’t worry, in a couple hours we'll be celebrating back at the dorms.”

“But what if we don’t pass?” Mina frets, “I can’t remember what to do if a civilian has a head injury and they don’t want to be saved, what if-”

“You’ll be fine, Mina! The whole class will definitely pass. We’ve been studying so hard,” Kirishima soothes her. 

“But I can’t remember-”

“Oi,” Katsuki cut in, “If they have a head injury, you work off of implied consent. They don’t have the mental awareness to refuse treatment. And you do remember that, we went over that section together. You’re just overthinking things.”

“I swear, Bakugou, you have the hero's laws and regulations memorized!” 

“We all do, dumbass. It’s all we’ve been focused on these past couple weeks.”

“Still, I think I might forget a few things,” Kaminari admits. 

“What if I forget one of the crucial-”

“Maybe we should focus on something else. Bakugou’s right, we’re gonna be fine,” Sero chimes in. He rests a hand on Kaminari’s restless knee and smiles, “After today, we’ll be one step closer to our pro hero license.”

“If I fail just put me out of my misery,” Mina bemoans, dropping her head on the headrest. 

“You can always re-test,” Uraraka pops in, patting Mina’s shoulder, “Deku-kun said Aizawa told him that’s an option.”

“I don’t wanna re-test,” Mina continues to whine. 

“You won’t have to,” Kirishima assures her. He flashes the squad a brilliant, sharp-toothed smile, “We got this.”

“Sero had a point,” Kaminari mutters, “I can’t focus on the test any longer. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Yeah, like what?” Katsuki scoffs.

“Um…” Kirishima bites his lip thoughtfully. “What did you guys have for breakfast?”

“I didn’t eat breakfast,” Mina moans, “I was too stressed out.” 

Kaminari nods, “Yeah, same.”

“Oof. I’m with you guys,” Sero admits before he looks over at Katsuki, who has yet to say anything.

Katsuki had the shallow hope that they would let him focus in peace during the bus ride, but that was quickly becoming unlikely, “What about you Bakugou?”

“I ate. This is fucking stupid, why are you talking about breakfast? No one cares.”

Katsuki set his phone down. They weren’t going to leave him alone for the bus ride, “Talk about something else.”

Izuku pops up from two rows ahead, sliding into the aisle and walking towards their group. His eyes are drilling into Katsuki. 

Katsuki grits his teeth. What now?

“Hey Midoriya! Are you ready for the exam?” Kirishima beams. 

Izuku smiles, shifting his gaze briefly from Katsuki to Kirishima, “Yeah, I think so. I’m still pretty nervous.”

“Me too!” Mina says.

“Me three,” Kaminari joins in.

“Uh, well, I guess I'm four then,” Sero says with a shrug. 

“We’re trying to not think about it.”

Izuku’s eyes flick back to Katsuki when he doesn’t add to their responses. 

“What about you, Kacchan?”

Katsuki scoffs, “What do you think?”

Izuku’s cheeks turn pink. 

“I think you’re ready,” he says, his voice the tiniest bit softer. 

Katsuki feels his own face grow warm as Izuku gazes at him a moment longer. Why the fuck is he staring at him like that?

“Uh-” Izuku suddenly shakes his head, as if dispelling whatever thoughts overtook his mind, “I better get back to my seat before Aizawa-sensei yells at me for standing in the aisle.”

“That’s fine, thanks for stopping by Midoriya,” Mina chirps, “Good luck today.”

“You too,” Izuku says warmly.

His gaze slides back over to Katsuki, “Uh, um…good luck today, Kacchan.”

Then the bumbling idiot promptly spins around and walks back to his seat. Katsuki didn’t even have the time to respond. Fucking asshole. 

“That,” Kaminari says, a bit breathless and eyes wide, “Let’s talk about that.”

“Uh…what do you mean?” Kirishima frowns. “Midoriya wished us luck, what's there to talk about?”

“No, he wished Mina luck after she said it first, but he specifically wished Kacchan good luck,” Kaminari wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Katsuki has the sudden desire to punch them off his face. 

“And he blushed when he looked at you, Bakugou.”

Why the fuck is everyone so caught up on this? So the nerd was a blundering mess, just like usual. Why did everyone think this was a big deal? Izuku was his normal, weird self. He always stuttered and blushed around Katsuki. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“That’s not abnormal,” Sero points out, “They’re childhood friends, of course they’re closer.”

“I don’t think that’s anything weird,” Kirishima adds.

Thank you, Katsuki wants to say, but he would rather they drop the matter entirely.

As he stews in purposeful silence, the rest of the idiots finally get the hint and drop it. Mina redirects the conversation towards a new pro hero that recently debuted. They spend the rest of the tense bus ride discussing their quirk and general 'vibe'. 

Katsuki really wishes he could tune them out. 

When the bus finally pulls into the testing grounds, the anxiousness of every single class 1-A student screams louder than ever. Conversations dwindle to a halt and Shota ushers them off the bus and into the bright sunlight. Students from various hero schools around the country mingle around the outer perimeter of the building. 

There’s all sorts of uniforms present, some Katsuki recognizes without difficulty and others he has no hope of ever guessing. Most of the other testees are older than Katsuki and his classmates. 

Usually hero schools schedule the Provisional License Exam during their second year quickly followed by work studies to build more practical field experience. However, UA high school was notorious for its rigorous, demanding hero course and required their first years to pass an exam geared towards second year hero students. 

You know, Plus Ultra, and all of that shit. 

Then there was the Sports Festival. Katsuki could guarantee none of his classmates had considered that their quirks and a bit of their fighting styles had been broadcasted all over the nation. While the other hero schools were training, UA was declaring their students’ weaknesses and strengths to the world. 

Which meant, more or less, that every fucking student taking the exam today knew more than they should about class 1-A. It put them at a massive disadvantage, especially considering Katsuki had a gut feeling they would be battling each other first. 

He really should make a bet with one of his friends, just to prove them wrong. 

Katsuki sticks to himself though, and hangs back as Shiketsu’s shitty students approach Izuku and his friends with deceptively charming smiles. Izuku was an idiot for putting up with their obvious information digging. The fuckers wanted more to use against them, as if their quirks weren’t enough already. 

That wasn’t Katsuki’s problem. Even if the fucking Shiketsu dumbass was relatively good-looking. And shaking Izuku’s hand. And- why the fuck was the nerd blushing?

Before Katsuki could charge over and interrupt, the loudspeakers blared. 

“Attention! Those in attendance here to take the Provisional Hero License Exam, please make your way to the waiting area. Follow the yellow signs! The test will begin in the next fifteen minutes. If you are not present in fifteen minutes, you will not take the exam today. I repeat-”

Shota stepped in front of them, “Listen up!” 

The class shuffled around their teacher. Everyone was quiet, focused solely on Shota as he eyed them over.

“You’re representing UA high school today, act appropriately. Do your best, remember what we taught you and you’ll do fine. Plus Ultra or whatever.”

With that meager, rallying speech, Shota sighed and began to walk away. Class 1-A stood dumbly for all of five seconds before Iida stepped forward.

“Class 1-A! Let’s make UA proud! Plus Ultra!”

The rest of the sheep repeated it back. Katsuki only rolled his eyes and joined the massive throng of students sluggishly moving inside the building. Kirishima and Kaminari quickly tagged along.

Katsuki’s little group made their way down a rather short hallway that opened up into a giant auditorium. A stage was set up in the middle of a large arena with dirt floors. HPSC officials and a few pro heroes stood by a podium on the small stage. They watched the students filing in around the stage with severe, judgemental eyes. 

Katsuki hated them already.

One of the officials stepped forward to the podium as the fifteen minute mark was up, introducing themselves and laying out the expectations and rules for the first part of the exam. In the end, Katsuki was right. 

Testees were all given six balls and instructed to hit at least two of these three circular marks students would place on their bodies to eliminate each other. Get two people out and you pass, but only the first 100 would. The rest would wash out and were eligible to retake the exam in one year. 

Katsuki couldn't imagine having to go through this bullshit again. It wasn’t even an option he was considering. He was going to pass. These fucking extras don’t even stand a chance against him. 

There were many students crowded in the arena. A large number of hero hopefuls with unknown quirks and fighting abilities. He would be stupid to underestimate them, even as confident as he was and Katsuki braced for the imminent chaos. 

Class 1-A was close by, all huddled together for protection. Although Katsuki could understand the sentiment, it was abhorrently stupid of them to all gather around in one place. When the exam started and the bloodbath began, class 1-A would be the biggest target as every other hero school ganged up on them.

Katsuki was planning on sneaking away. Maybe Kirishima and Kaminari would join him, maybe not. Either way, he was going to stay far away as fucking possible from his classmates. They had their own success to worry about. Katsuki just had to focus on himself. 

“Oh god,” Kirishima muttered, eyes darting to the students around them, “We’re so screwed.”

Kaminari nodded dumbly, too anxious to even speak. 

“Follow me,” Katsuki demanded. 

They both looked at him, the absolute faith shining in their eyes threw him off momentarily.

“Will do, Kacchan,” Kaminari squeaked, giving a shaky thumbs up.

Kirishima nodded firmly, blatantly nervous but a bit more focused.

“I’ll follow you anywhere, Bakugou,” the other announced confidently.

I’ll follow you anywhere.

The statement threw him off. Before Katsuki could say anything, the buzzer sounded and chaos descended upon them. 

Katsuki yanked the two idiots out of the way of a laser blast, running through the masses to the edge of the arena before awareness fully set in. 

There wasn’t time for dramatics now. Katsuki settled into a fighting mentality and grinned. It was time to fight. Time to win. 

Katsuki was suspended in a space without light, without physical feeling, without movement. He was compressed, rolled and bent in ways his body shouldn’t be able to. His bones felt unstable, bendable and lacking any structure. Sounds warped in his ears, panic dredging up familiar sensations, memories that shouldn’t be possible.

He was here. 

But where was here? A sharp, cloying laugh cut through the foggy space he resided in. It was nearly recognizable, but Katsuki felt like he had no space to even think. Sensations were warped and distorted.

Everything got infinitely louder, like the volume was dialed up to max. Something rough scraped where his shoulder was supposed to be. Static danced across his flesh. 

Suddenly, as if a switch flipped, his body unraveled as bones regained density and organs untwisted. For a blinding second, everything was so uncomfortable it almost hurt, before Katsuki was himself again.

The world felt raw; simply existing was a sensory overload. Then he registered Kaminari and Kirishima standing over a random student, panting and talking to each other. Kirishima turned his head towards Katsuki, grinning wildly when he saw Katsuki sitting on the ground. 

“You’re back!” He cried. 

Back? Where had he gone?

Katsuki pushed himself to his feet unsteadily, relishing and hating the way his joints rubbed against each other. He avoided the two idiots hanging around and surveyed the scene. 

Bodies of students lay crumpled around them, each and every one unconscious or dazed. Evidence of Kaminari’s new support item-a disk with the ability to effectively channel and target his electricity-charred the walls and structures around them. One of the students was vaguely recognizable; Katsuki remembered a weird blur of his triumphant face before his body muddled and contorted itself in a way not humanly possible. 

The sensation had felt eerily similar to Compress’s quirk. It made Katsuki sick to his stomach, to the point where he had to turn away and pinch the skin on his forearm just to stay grounded.

He could feel it, if he focused long enough. He could feel the grass disappearing beneath his boots, the breeze vanishing in the vacuum of that cold, strange place. Twisted, small and not entirely there.

Katsuki shivered.

“What happened?” He forced himself to say. Even his tongue felt numb and useless in his mouth, another terrible train of thought he’d rather avoid.

Kirishima was looking at him oddly, “The guy had some weird quirk,” he explained casually, “He can make people into meatballs just by touching them.”

“Are you okay, dude? You look really pale,” Kaminari blurted out. 

The ground still felt likely to vanish from underneath him, like he was going to be trapped under it, like he was stuck here. He couldn’t afford to think like that right now. He couldn’t focus on the weird, crawling sensation buzzing underneath his skin. Katsuki needed to pull himself together. 

He just needed to be able to fucking breathe. 

“I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Kirishima asked quietly. 

Kirishima squinted as he stared at him, they both were. Kaminari was obviously uncomfortable, he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot and wouldn’t meet Katsuki’s eyes. 

“Yes,” Katsuki croaked, hating that his voice was all weird and rubbed his throat the wrong way. 

As soon as they left, he could break a little. Katsuki really, really needed them to back off. The more they stared at him, the bigger the lump in his throat grew, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could push this feeling off. 

But Kirishima pushed harder, frowning as his arm twitched like he was thinking of reaching out, and if he did Katsuki was going to lose his mind, he knew it. 

“Bakugou, you look like-”

“Let’s just hit those fucking marks and get out of here, okay?” Katsuki strode past them, unable to meet their eyes any longer. 

“Hey man-”

“Don’t,” Katsuki said against gritted teeth, “Please.”

Kirishima and Kaminari fell silent. 

Katsuki walked up to the Meatball guy, the piece of shit who just couldn’t keep his hands to himself, and took a sick satisfaction in hitting the designated weak points on his body. The markers turned red. Meatball guy was still too out of it to realize that he failed this exam. 

Katsuki felt awful. 

Meatball guy was right, wasn’t he? All of that shit about how Katsuki didn’t deserve to be here, and he was right. They both knew it. 

Katsuki was taking his dreams away from him. Someone who probably worked harder, who was nicer to people, who didn’t have all of this extra shit. Katsuki took it all away in a second. 

Fuck.

After he finished ruining another hero hopeful’s future, Katsuki left without waiting for the other two. His own markers had turned blue, signaling he had passed this portion. Distantly, the announcer reiterated their success over the loudspeakers. 

Kaminari and Kirishima rushed to catch up. Katsuki numbly walked forward, ignoring the onslaught of questions. It didn’t matter in the end. Katsuki just needed them to leave him alone. 

His eyes burned and Katsuki would hate himself even worse if they saw him cry. His lungs still couldn’t properly catch enough air. His skin still itches, like it was a bit too small for his body. 

Nothing was right. Everything was wrong, just fucking wrong. 

“Leave me alone.”

Katsuki couldn’t take it anymore.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

Katsuki wasn’t sure who said it. It didn’t really matter, did it? 

Did anything matter?

“I just need a minute. I’ll be right behind you,” Katsuki wasn’t even sure what he was saying. He just needed them to leave. The pressure was building inside of his chest and refused to settle no matter how many measured breaths he took. In fact, his entire body just screamed that something was wrong. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong. He was wrong. Everything was.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

“Bakugou-”

“Just fucking leave, okay?” He snapped out, turning sharply to the right. 

“Bakugou!”

“Maybe we should let him go?”

Katsuki didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He simply turned a corner before the looming tidal wave crashed over him. 

His surroundings blurred before his eyes. Katsuki didn’t know what direction he was heading in, only that it was opposite of where he was supposed to be. His heart raced inside of his chest, burning against his ribcage in a wild dance to escape. Half of him begged his feet to run while the other half demanded he hide from whatever danger lurked nearby. 

Fuck, he couldn’t do this today. 

Katsuki ducked into a small alcove in some random building. He slipped out of sight from any potential attackers, triple checking the alleys and open paths for any wandering students as his legs trembled. Although the sounds of battling students shook the walls and floors, great explosions and bangs coming from all over, Katsuki saw no one nearby. 

He nearly melted into the wall, allowing his knees to buckle beneath him as he slid to the cold floor. His chest burned from a lack of oxygen. He was practically hyperventilating, sucking in desperate, ragged breaths that were never fucking enough. 

Katsuki risked screwing his eyes shut, leaning into his knees and resting his head on his arms. He could do this. He could breathe. Everything was fine. He was safe here. There were pro heroes everywhere, even if there had been many at the summer training camp too. Even though they hadn’t been able to prevent the League from snatching him away. He was- fuck, he couldn’t do this.

He needed to control himself. He needed to- Katsuki yanked his sleeve up, and in a moment of unadulterated panic, bit down hard into the flesh of his arm. Pain shot through his forearm and tears gathered in his eyes, but the drowning wave of adrenaline slowed in his blood. 

Katsuki sat there, cowering on the ground as he fucking bit himself, allowing the pain to ground him. Like a fucking maniac, it worked. The pain overrode the anxiety. His heart began to slow into a rhythm closer to normal and his lungs opened up, finally the sweet relief cascaded through him. 

I’m okay, Katsuki reminded himself. I’m okay. I’m okay.

He wasn’t sure how long it took until he actually believed it. 

By the time Katsuki was normal enough to leave, a bit of time had passed. His knees cracked when he pushed himself back into a standing position. The change in altitude caused his head to swim and the world smeared itself into a brilliant mosaic before settling back into clarity. 

Jesus Christ, he needed to get a grip. Katsuki sucked in another breath through his nose, setting his shoulders back and forcing his features to soften. Only when he felt like himself did he step out from the quiet corner he had hidden away in. 

Katsuki made his way back to the waiting room. Hopefully Kirishima and Kaminari hadn’t missed his absence for too long. Thank god they hadn’t seen him in that state, he couldn’t take the embarrassment. That would’ve been the fucking cherry on top.

Only one more part to this test and Katsuki was finished. Then he would have the license and all of this would be over. He was really looking forward to hiding away tonight. After everything that happened these past couple weeks, Katsuki just needed a moment to himself. 

Katsuki was so caught up in his mind, he didn’t notice when he passed by the open dirt section of the testing grounds. Not until he was yanked behind two large boulders leaning against each other.

“Hey-!” He yelped as he was thrown unceremoniously to the ground.

Katsuki growled low, pushing himself off the dirt and glaring furiously at the ditzy Shiketsu student standing nearby, “What the fuck? I already passed, asshole. You’re not getting any points from me.”

The mysterious girl smirked cockily, irking Katsuki to no end. 

She was weird. Her body posture was overly confident and relaxed, even though her markers showed she hadn’t yet passed this portion of the exam. But she didn’t seem to care about getting the points at all, even as the announcer kept listing the dwindling number of available spots over the loudspeakers. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Katsuki demanded, finally on two feet and eyeing her more closely. 

Something was off about her. His gut instinct was screaming at him to run, but it was probably from the meltdown he just finished. Only lingering anxiety. 

“Long time no see, Kacchan,” she cooed. 

Kacchan. Not Bakugou. Not Katsuki. 

Kacchan.

The world sharpened into resounding clarity, even as the sounds of battling students faded to white noise. The dirt was hard and uneven beneath his feet. His heart began to pound faster, each contraction sent blood surging through his veins, the rush drowning out other sounds. 

A whispering breeze whistled through the crevice. 

Katsuki did not say her name. He couldn’t speak a word, or even coax a sound from his dry throat. 

“Didn’t you miss me, Kacchan?” Toga simpered, batting that body’s brown eyes, even though they weren’t the distinctive yellow of her original form, Katsuki swore they still flashed gold. 

He was silent. 

“What, cat got your tongue?” Toga teased him, taking a step closer. He could see every wisp of hair framing this stranger’s face. While the form she stole was unfamiliar, every movement screamed Toga. 

Katsuki wanted to run. Every muscle was tense and every neuron fired up and ready to flee on a moment’s notice, but he was frozen. Glued to the dirt like it would consume him whole, like it was sucking his shoes deeper into the earth’s crust, dragging him towards the fiery pits of hell. 

This was hell. Katsuki died and was fucking condemned to be tortured for all of eternity. This was a nightmare. A living, breathing nightmare. 

“This isn’t real,” Katsuki murmured hoarsely, his voice choking and brittle. He didn’t look away from her for one second. He was too afraid. Half of him was convinced this wasn’t real. She wasn’t here, she wasn’t eyeing him like finely cut steak, she wasn’t getting fucking closer. 

“S-s-stay b-back,” Katsuki stuttered, shuffling backwards as Toga stalked forward like a tiger. His mouth felt numb, his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth, “D-d-”

“W-w-what?” Toga mimicked mockingly, “I c-c-can’t understand y-y-you.”

Katsuki’s back slammed into a solid wall of sharp rock. No more words came forth. His mouth was held shut by some invisible force, his jaw ached with how hard he clenched it shut. 

Toga paused, eyeing him from head to toe. Whatever she found pleased her, and that stranger’s mouth curved into a cruel smile that didn’t fit this person’s face. 

It didn’t fit, this didn’t fit, nothing made sense and it was all entirely, irrevocably wrong. 

Katsuki wanted to scream. 

“I’ve missed you, Kacchan.”

Don’t say my name. Please. Please, don’t fucking say it. 

His legs were trembling so badly, Katsuki felt like they would give away beneath him at any moment. He was fragile and weak, like a newborn foal. 

Toga stood a foot away from him now. Katsuki was chained in place, unable to move an inch and muzzled like a goddamn dog.

“What happened to all of that bravery, hero?” Toga scoffed, “You look scared. Are you afraid of me?”

Yes.

Katsuki couldn’t breathe. The air was thick like syrup. It stuck in his throat, refusing to fill his lungs. 

Toga leant in close, and he could smell something sour on her breath. He could feel the ghostly touches of her hands, the lingering sensation on his skin so raw and tender that even the memory was painful. He could picture hell in the form of a 10x10 cement cell so clearly, for a brief moment, the testing grounds faded from view.

“Kacchan,” the devil whispered.

No.

“I kept it.”

No, no, no. 

“Whenever I miss you, I pull it out and look at it.”

Katsuki wanted to die. 

Toga stepped back, and the air thinned enough he felt like he could breathe again, until she reached for something under her shirt. 

Something mottled blue and black. Something rancid and shriveled. Something rotten and horrifyingly familiar. 

Katsuki gagged; strikingly and violently sick to his stomach. Bile splattered on the dirt in front of him. He still couldn’t take his eyes off of her, off of that cursed thing. 

Toga grinned wildly, proudly holding the vile piece of flesh aloft. 

“Should I take another? Maybe I can start a collection!” The she-devil giggled, tucking the decaying tongue back under the fabric of her stolen uniform. “If I had the healer here with me, I would have! But unfortunately, time is running out and I have other things to get done before I have to go.”

Toga quickly stepped back into Katsuki’s space and he flinched. She leaned in, lips less than an inch from his ear, close enough he could feel her warm breaths tickling his neck. 

“I can’t wait until next time, Kacchan. You’re one of my favorites,” A whimper escaped his mouth, causing Toga’s smile to widen, and she chuckled. 

“Buh-bye, Kacchan.”

And then she left.

She left.

Katsuki’s knees gave out, slamming into the dirt, and finally he bowed his head and sobbed.

Walking back to the waiting room was another method of torture. Time was wavering around him as he religiously studied the mannerisms of each and every person he snuck by. No one moved quite like her, fought like her, and he didn’t know if each person was masking, or if he was losing his mind. 

Loud sounds had him flinching back under cover. Sudden movements shot adrenaline straight through his heart. Every hint of danger rocketed his senses up to maximum sensitivity. 

The journey was much longer than it needed to be, only urged along by the need to tell someone that she was here. Katsuki was still too slow, too timid. 

When he finally entered the halls of the building, the buzzer ending the first round sounded. Katsuki winced, hurrying his feet as fast as he felt he safely could. He had to find a pro hero. Anyone at all. He needed to say it, he needed to tell them the danger everyone was in. 

Why was he so fucking slow? Why was he still so scared? Why, why, why?!

“-Toga talked to me,” a recognizable voice said from somewhere nearby. 

Katsuki flinched at the sound of the devil’s name. He reluctantly peered down the corridor he was about to pass by, and spotted Izuku’s green mop of hair. Izuku was speaking with Shota. Izuku was talking to Shota about her. Katsuki stood frozen in place just around the corner, eavesdropping on their conversation as Izuku recounted another interaction with the she-beast. Katsuki’s stomach dropped to the floor. 

This was his fault. If he hadn’t been so slow, Toga wouldn’t have had time to approach Izuku. She might have gotten caught. But it was too late. Katsuki had let fear control him, and she could’ve killed Izuku, or worse. All because he couldn’t fucking move.

There was no doubt about it. The bitch was long gone. Off into the world, gone in the dizzying masses of students, back tormenting people. 

His fault. His fault. His fucking fault.

Katsuki reeled back from the hallway, filled with guilt. 

There was no point in telling Shota now. All that would do was prove what a fucking damaged piece of shit he was, allowing a villain to get to someone else while he could’ve stopped it. Oh god, Katsuki helped the League by staying quiet. He was nearly one of them. 

This was all his fault.

“Dude, you don’t look good.”

Kaminari’s face swam in front of him, quickly joined by Kirishima’s. They both checked him over worriedly. Katsuki sluggishly glanced around. 

Somehow he made it to the waiting room. Pro heroes were posted around every entrance, and students milled about chatting and resting. Almost every student from class 1-A was already here from what Katsuki could see. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Kaminari continued, frowning. 

“Bakugou?” Kirishima asked hesitantly.

“I’m fine,” Katsuki lied. 

Villain, villain, villain, his mind accused.

“You definitely don’t look fine,” Mina said, appearing out of nowhere to join the group pestering him.

“Blasty?”

“I’m fine,” Katsuki repeated blindly, “I’m fine. Just stressed, okay?”

The others didn't look remotely convinced. 

Katsuki couldn’t focus on anything other than Toga for the remainder of the exam.

The faux injured civilians were a blur of faces and words that Katsuki couldn’t hope to decipher. He kept breaking the act and snapping towards them to get moving. There were villains around, real life villains that were going to fucking kill them, and these civilians were dragging their feet. 

Any moment he could, Katsuki focused on their surroundings, searching the sea of faces for something familiar. But Toga wouldn’t wear a skin he would recognize. She could be anyone. She could even be the person he was treating right now.

Katsuki jerked his arms back, causing the civilian leaning against him to stumble. 

“What the hell?” They cried, dusting themselves off, “Five point deduction!”

Guilt ate away at him. He couldn’t do anything right, could he? Katsuki was hurting the fucking civilians he was supposed to be helping. That was all he was good for.

And yet, Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to focus on them long enough to make a difference. Points meant nothing if he was fucking dead. He could afford to lose a couple points. 

Kirishima and Kaminari knew something was up.

“Are you okay, man?” Kirishima asked him, whispering so Kaminari couldn’t overhear. “You still look freaked out.”

“It’s nothing, back off,” Katsuki snapped as he hauled the civilian back to their feet a bit rougher than he intended.

Fuck, he was doing it again.

Kirishima paused from where he was treating the other civilian, hands halting their manipulations of the tourniquet, “Are you sure?”

“Leave me alone. Let’s just get this fucking shit over with,” Katsuki spit out, ignoring the actual question. 

“Another five point deduction for conduct unbecoming of a hero,” the civilian added on, glowering at him, “Keep it up, Sonny, and I’ll make sure you never pass this test.”

Kirishima tried to smile placatingly as Katsuki stewed; anxious, stressed and too emotionally ruined to have any mind to stop his brain to mouth filter.

“If you move any slower, the villains are going to kill you, too,” he hissed threateningly.

“Dude!”

“Hey!” The civilian sputtered, “How dare-how could-don’t talk to me like that! Minus ten points!”

Distantly, Katsuki knew that he was walking a very fine, very dangerous line, and yet he had no mind to stop it. He could hear Kirishima attempt to soothe the disgruntled grader, making excuses and trying to dismiss Katsuki’s callous attitude. 

He couldn’t focus on the words Kirishima and the civilian exchanged. He could barely recognize the need to slow down and restock the situation. All of his attention was fixated on scanning the sea of people around the arena, searching for any hint of Toga, any indication that she was still here.

A hand on his shoulder had him whirling around, palm raised and prepared to attack.

Kirishima immediately put both hands in the air. 

“Whoa man, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.”

Kirishima’s brows furrowed, “What’s going on with you? You’re acting weird.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just need this test to be over-”

“Hey, I get it man, but at the rate you’re going, you won’t pass. Just take a minute, take a breather and come back to it, okay? Don’t let the stress get to you.”

Katsuki shook his head, “I’m fine,” he denied.

“You’re not.” 

Kirishima shook his head, but Katsuki had enough and began to stalk away. His ‘rescuee’ sputtered as he was taken away, and Kirishima tried to call after him, but he was ignored. 

Kaminari emerged from his lookout spot, confused as he glanced between the both of them, “Hey, what’s going-wait, Bakugou! Don’t leave-”

“Leave me alone,” Katsuki growled. 

He just needed to dump this loser at the healing tent, and he was finished. He could be done. He wouldn’t have to keep looking over his shoulder. 

Kirishima and Kaminari continued trying to get him to come back, but Katsuki resolutely continued his march onward. His civilian gave up deducting points, instead he just glared and muttered under his breath. 

Katsuki would have rather seen his mom in handcuffs than be here any longer.

He failed.

Holy shit, he fucking failed the exam. 

Katsuki stared at the board in muted horror. 

He really was a terrible person wasn’t he? He didn’t fail because he forgot crucial procedures or first aid, he failed because of who he was. Because of his personality. Because for one hour, he let a villain get inside his head, a villain who didn’t even touch him. 

He was pathetic. More than that, he was so fucking stupid. 

Katsuki couldn’t look at the board any longer. As his classmates celebrated and congratulated each other around him, Katsuki slipped through the group of students, the throng of fledgling heroes.

Shota tried to pull him aside, concern written all over his face, but Katsuki twisted away and disappeared in the crowd. 

He couldn’t handle any useless cliches right now. He couldn’t face the overflowing joy of his classmates, or the empty platitudes from Shota, any of it. He just wanted to be alone. 

Unfortunately Shoto was already on the bus. For a moment, they both stared at each other, the two failures in class 1-A. Katsuki didn’t feel so alone.

“I messed up,” the other boy admitted in the silence, “You know, Endeavor has been drilling all of this knowledge into me for years and somehow I still ruined everything.”

At first Katsuki didn’t reply. He just made his way over and sat down in his seat. The negative self talk was achingly familiar, and the weight of their failure settled heavily overhead. 

“It’s not your fault,” Katsuki said in a moment of clarity, “Sometimes shitty things just happen.”

“It was my fault,” Shoto insists, and to Katsuki’s growing horror, he sees tears glistening in the corners of his classmate’s heterochromatic eyes, “I knew better. I knew I shouldn’t have let him get to me and I still did it.”

Katsuki has no idea what Shoto is talking about. 

“Whatever it was, Icyhot, it probably wasn’t as big of a deal as you're making it out to be.”

“I failed!” Shoto exclaims, eyes wild and wet.

He’s standing with his hands wrapped into tight fists, knuckles white and jaw clenched.

“I shouldn't be a hero. What was I thinking? I knew better than to fight with him.”

“So you messed up, then. It doesn’t matter. Here’s what you’re going to do, Half-n-Half,” Katsuki says firmly, daring the other boy to contradict him, “You’re going to go to those extra classes. You’re gonna train, and you’re going to get over yourself. You fucked up this one time, so what?

Everyone cracks sometimes. But don’t let it fucking destroy you, dumbass. You’ll get your license. It’s just going to take a little bit longer than the others.”

Shoto stares at him dumbly, his face screwed up as if he’s thinking really hard. Katsuki ignores the wet little gasps Shoto emits as he tries to pull himself together. 

Katsuki just turns away, looking out the window as the rest of their class approaches slowly. 

“You’re oddly encouraging,” Shoto says. 

Katsuki doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even acknowledge him anymore. He stares blankly out the window and mourns the end of their alone time as their classmates gather near the door to the bus. 

“Bakugou?” Shoto asks carefully. 

Katsuki sighs before he responds flatly, “What?”

There’s a pause, and the voices of their classmates get louder, a jumble of cheers and overbearing happiness that only makes Katsuki want to die even more. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Shoto whispers just before the first person clambers onto the bus.

Katsuki turns further away, hiding his face from anyone’s searching eyes, and no one notices the tears shining on his own.

Shoto doesn’t get it. Their failures are different. Katsuki failed all on his own, because he acted too similar to a villain. Shoto let someone rile him up. This was out of the norm for Shoto while Katsuki was born this way. There was no fixing this. 

Katsuki takes a deep, shuddering breath before Kirishima plops down beside him. As their raucous classmates settle in around them, Kirishima begins to whisper something that Katsuki quickly tunes out. 

How many failures does it take for someone to give up entirely? Katsuki didn’t know, but he did know he was getting awfully close to finding out. 

Katsuki evades Shota again as he enters the dorms. He hides away in the kitchen, doing everything he can to avoid lingering in his own head. 

Desserts, appetizers and finger foods slowly begin to collect on the counter. Katsuki does whatever he can to keep his hands busy. 

Any attempt at comfort is immediately shut down or ignored. He receives many odd looks. Mina even tries to whisper something in his ear, but he turns away from her. The hurt look at his rejection only adds to his negativity. 

Being around his successful classmates hurts worse and worse but Katsuki can’t seem to stop these mundane tasks. He can’t face it yet because whenever he does, it will kill him. He just needs more time. More distractions. 

Katsuki notices the exact moment Shoto slips away from the party. 

He would give anything to follow him. 

But first, Katsuki needs to show he can be good. He needs to give something back to his classmates. They worked their asses off, and they deserve his amazing cooking. It would be rude to go throw a pity party on his own, even if that's all Katsuki wants to do. 

He needs to do something good before he disappears. 

Katsuki isn’t a terrible person. He can be good. He can be kind. He can be helpful. He’s not a complete and utter piece of shit, he’s not a villain, he’s not cruel and angry and terrible. 

He’s not.

He can be good.

He can.

Katsuki approaches Shota later on, after his classmates have become too distracted in their celebration they don’t notice his existence anymore. When he asks the man to take him home, the pro hero immediately obliges. They slip away before the others can realize. Katsuki is grateful Shota seems to pick up on his urgency to leave, and with the discretion he needed. 

During the drive, Katsuki leans his head against the window and mutely watches the streetlights zip by. 

“You can retake the test in a couple months,” Shota tells him matter of factly, “I know it didn’t pan out in your favor today, but it’s not the end of the world. This won’t set you behind, Katsuki. Most of your classmates won’t be participating in work studies. It was just an option, not a requirement.”

Katsuki doesn’t say anything the entire ride to the apartment. 

Hizashi offers them both dinner after they slip through the door. Katsuki declines, and Hizashi looks so put out he nearly agrees just to please him. But Katsuki isn’t hungry and he hasn’t been since breakfast. 

“I ate with the others,” he lied. 

Shota couldn’t contradict him on it, as Katsuki knew he wasn’t paying enough attention to notice. 

They both still try to wrangle him into watching a movie or playing a dumbass board game with them, but Katsuki just retreats to his room. All he wants to do is be alone, ruminating over his own failures. 

Sure, he knows this isn’t healthy or whatever, but who gives a shit? Katsuki tried so hard, he studied and practiced for hours on end, and where had that gotten him? It just proved what his mother drilled into him after all those years. 

Katsuki was a fucking villain, and villains don’t become heroes. 

Katsuki finally closed the door to his room. Immediately, as carefully as he could to not make a sound they could hear, he slid down the wall. The energy driving him forward abandoned him without others around to drag it forth. 

I failed. The first test to be a hero, and I failed. I should’ve known this would happen. 

Katsuki tilted his head against the wall, peering up at the ceiling. 

Why did he keep trying to be something he wasn’t? Why did he keep fighting against what he already knew? He was made to hurt people. He wasn’t made to help others. He was a fucking monster. 

Katsuki’s throat burned. His eyes itched. His body felt heavy, like his bones were replaced with iron.

Everyone passed. Every single one, even fucking Mineta. Except for Shoto, but he was distracted in the end and it really wasn’t his fault. Katsuki didn’t count him.

Katsuki failed all on his own. Because he was a terrible person. Because he was too angry. Because he was evil.

A villain.  

What the fuck was wrong with him? Katsuki felt like everything was sloshing around too violently, all of his thoughts were heavy and they hurt, every second the entirety of who he was weighed on him harder. 

Katsuki felt like his own insurmountable star, so heavy and dense with matter that it collapsed, turning all of that mass back in on itself, and destroying everything within reach. 

Because that’s what he did. He hurt people. He destroyed them. He was a shitty, awful person. That’s why he failed. People like him were only destined to be villains. 

His face was wet. Tears trickled into the corners of his mouth, bathing his tongue with the taste of salt. He doesn’t remember when he started crying. Now he can’t seem to stop.

They were right. He knew they were right. 

Katsuki didn’t deserve to be a hero. The extra classes didn’t matter. Katsuki would never be a hero. Everything was so distant, so cold, so fucking dead. 

All he did was ruin things. He destroyed people. Katsuki was a monster.

Katsuki pulled himself towards the bed, curling up on the soft mattress and imagining he was already dead. That nothing no longer mattered, and nothing would ever hurt him again. He couldn’t hurt anyone, and he was both untouchable and unable to touch anything. 

The world was quiet and still and cold. 

A bit of time later, long enough that the sky had darkened to black, but not early enough that the sun threatened to return, Katsuki shifted from his comatose position. 

He was empty, like the decorative vases on shelves. Like an abandoned shell from a hermit crab, outgrown and discarded. Katsuki hadn’t felt this hollow since he woke up from his attempt. 

It was difficult to even detect his heart beating inside his chest. He almost doubted that it was.

Each individual movement felt mechanical. Katsuki was composed of metal, gears and pistons. Programmed to live, to fill this body with fuel and water, to sleep so his harddrive could rest. He was a thoughtless robot.

And everything took so much effort.

Katsuki made it to the bathroom. 

The hall was silent. Shota and Hizashi had long since gone off to bed. The house was dark. 

It felt empty, like Katsuki.

The door clicked shut as quietly as Katsuki could manage. The light was flicked on. In the mirror, Katsuki stared at his reflection. 

Blonde hair. Tired red eyes. Slumped shoulders. 

Automatically, he reached for the space between the granite and the wall, feeling for the cold edge of a blade. However, when he felt around, there was nothing there. There wasn’t even a crack between the countertop and wall. 

Katsuki blinked. 

That’s right. He wasn’t home. He was in his guardian’s apartment. 

And while there was no longer a razorblade tucked in the crevice between the granite and the wall, there was a blade hidden away in his overnight bag. 

Katsuki didn’t immediately make his way back to his room. It felt different this time. Shota and Hizashi slept a room away, the only thing hiding him was a thin sheet of drywall. They were so close. And they actually cared about this sort of thing. 

He could always hide the wounds though. 

The hollow feeling wasn’t budging. It began to weigh more heavily on him now. Katsuki felt so dead. And empty. And fucking numb. 

He needed to feel something. He needed to prove that he was still alive, that he was still here. He was still a person.

Katsuki violently pinched the skin on his forearm. 

It wasn’t enough. The numbness was growing, spreading from his chest down to his legs. His mind buzzed like it was filled with static electricity, and the sensation wasn’t a pleasant one. Everything felt wrong.

Katsuki was wrong. His skin stretched too far to cover his flesh. It didn't fit any longer. His bones creaked when he moved. They ground against each other. His heart sat in a different position in his chest; in a way that it didn’t quite belong. 

Nothing was right. Katsuki felt like he was losing his mind. 

In the end, it was a quick walk back to his room. The razorblade was exactly where he left it. The cool weight of it, nearly imperceptible, was all he could focus on. 

Katsuki couldn’t bear to imagine the look on Shota’s or Hizashi’s faces if they realized what he had done. Maybe they were sure to find the evidence, but Katsuki didn’t care. 

Did it even matter? He was gonna do it anyway. There was no other choice. He couldn’t live like this, empty and devoid of life. He needed to feel something. He needed to draw something back into this dead body of his. 

Even if it was painful.

Katsuki walked back to the bathroom. He closed the door and locked it. Then he settled on the floor, pressing the blade to his skin. 

If villains only hurt people, the least he could do was make sure it was himself.

Chapter Text

Katsuki stares as the horizon grows brighter, shifting from a pale green to orange and pink, until finally, the sun emerges. 

He fucked up last night. He really, really fucked up. 

Although Katsuki had changed bandages once already, blood was still seeping through the gauze, and there was no doubt they would have to be changed again. The cut was too deep, he’d gotten too carried away. He couldn’t hide this. There was no excuse he could possibly give to explain it.

He would have to tell Shota and Hizashi. 

The sun rises higher above the horizon, as dawn wanders into morning. Jelly was curled up on the right side of Katsuki’s bed. She preferred his room to sleep in, although he had no idea why. He had never owned a cat before. 

When Katsuki reaches out to stroke her head, the blooming red on his bandages catches his eye. The gauze is nearly soaked through, it’s time for another change. Another reminder of how badly Katsuki messed up. The bleeding needs to stop soon. He can’t afford to lose much more.

Katsuki’s head spins when he pushes himself to stand. The world swims in his eyes. The floor morphs into waves beneath him. 

For a long, horrible moment, he is positive he’s about to pass out. Just when the darkness threatens to envelop him, the dizziness begins to subside, and Katsuki manages to keep himself upright. Stubbornly, he starts shuffling towards the bathroom. 

Changing bandages is a hassle. His arms throb with every beat of his heart. Even though he unwraps them carefully, each movement sends a shock of pain through his arm. He winces when the last little bit comes loose. 

The cuts are ugly.

They’re deep and painful and fucking terrible . To top off the already awful situation, they’re still bleeding at a steady pace. 

Fuck, he’s an idiot. Why did he do it? It wasn’t worth it, Katsuki was a fucking mess. He was an idiot for thinking this would help.

‘You’re not thinking about her anymore, are you?’ That bitter voice in his mind whispers. 

Stop, Katsuki wants to beg. Just stop.

‘You liked it.’

He digs his nails into his palms. 

‘You did this to yourself. This is your own fault.’

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. 

There’s still blood on the floor. Droplets and smears he’d missed in his frantic cleanup last night. Evidence he forgot to wash away. 

Everything felt messy and wrong. Katsuki couldn’t even hurt himself right, he had to go and fuck that up too. And then he couldn’t clean it up properly. What could he do? What the fuck was he good for?

Katsuki was just so fucking tired. 

He slides down the wall, sitting on the cold tile floor. From this position, he can see the bloody gauze in the trash. He should hide it. 

But he’s so tired.

Instead, he finds himself leaning against the wall. His neck hurts from the awkward position, and his vision has begun to swim again. Everything hurts as the cold flooring causes goosebumps to spread across his skin. 

He doesn’t even remember closing his eyes.

When Katsuki wakes up, nothing is as it should be. 

There are unfamiliar hands groping his body. Voices speak around him but he can’t figure out what they’re saying. The light hurts his eyes.

Someone is touching his arms, touching the cuts. Someone is holding on, pressing down tightly on the aching wounds. 

Katsuki whines as the pain only grows. 

Where the fuck is he? What was going on? Katsuki can’t remember what he was doing before this. His mind is blurry. 

All he can remember is- oh fuck . 

Katsuki forces his heavy eyes open. They were raw and crusted with salt, another embarrassing reminder of what last night entailed. Hizashi was holding him, relief in his red-rimmed eyes. His blonde hair was thrown up in a messy, quick bun. 

They knew .

Katsuki broke his word, his promise to tell them when he wanted to hurt himself. They were going to be so fucking pissed at him. And after yesterday? After he failed the first exam to become a hero?

Jesus Christ, they’re going to kill him.

There was nothing he could say except-

“I’m sorry.”

His throat was dry and his voice cracked when he spoke, more of a whisper than anything. Hizashi didn’t seem to care, his eyes watering as he smiled gently.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay, alright Kiddo?”

Why was he smiling? Why was he crying? Blindly, Katsuki continues his frantic apologies, idly praying the empty words would be enough to soothe their anger. 

“I fucked up,” he chokes out, “Shit- I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t fuck anything up, Katsuki.” 

Hizashi’s voice was all wobbly and guilt churned in his gut. He was an awful person. He knew that he deserved this.

But he couldn’t figure it out. He didn’t understand why the man wasn’t yelling at him yet. Maybe he was waiting until later on, but Katsuki was at his weakest right now. So why was he waiting?

“I did,” he insisted, “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I wasn’t trying to- to do anything, you know?”

Hizashi’s eyes fill with tears, and he inhales deeply, but Katsuki beats him to the punch. He needs to apologize for causing them all of this extra trouble. He needs to fix this before Hizashi blows up, or gets too mad to speak. 

Admitting fault was always the way to go with Mitsuki. Maybe they were the same. 

Katsuki opens his mouth and begins to ramble out apologies and excuses before Hizashi can blink. 

“I keep hurting people. I’m trying to be a good person but I’m not and I couldn’t- I can’t do this. I can’t, and I’m trying, but nothing ever works out. I just keep making the wrong decisions and I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Before he can utter another word, Hizashi suddenly tugs him closer, tucking his head under his chin and hugging him. 

Katsuki shuts up. The hug is strong and warm. There’s no hint of anger, no tense thrum of hidden poison, nothing but comfort. His embrace holds Katsuki up, it soothes the mess of emotions inside of his head until the boy just feels like this idiot kid who cut himself and bled all over their nice floors.

He doesn’t deserve this. 

Someone clears their throat, “I don’t want to interrupt, but I have a blanket for you, kid.”

Katsuki lifts his head, looks up at a worried Shota with red, puffy eyes. The man hands him the fluffy gray blanket he loves to wrap himself in when they watch movies. 

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he dully admits after staring at it for a bit too long.

“You could never ruin anything, Katsuki,” Shota says seriously. 

Katsuki gets the sense he’s talking about more than the blanket. 

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head in denial, “Don’t lie to me.”

“I would never lie to you.”

Katsuki would love to point out how wrong he is, but he knows how this conversation will go. It’s pointless, just like most things in his life. The will to argue with him was barely there in the first place, so he just gives up and avoids eye contact.

He misses the concerned look the two Pros share at his lack of an argument. 

Before anything else could be said, there’s a knock at the door to the apartment. Shota hums, glancing down the hall. 

“That’d be Recovery Girl. I’ll be right back.”

Did Katsuki mention that it was pointless as well to argue about the need for the healer? 

Shota returns with the withered old hag. She enters with a small bag, offering him a smile he doesn’t return. 

“How are you feeling today, Bakugou?” She asks as she sets the bag down on the counter. 

Katsuki looks away.

Behind him, Hizashi shuffles a bit further away. The loss of warmth has him shivering again, and Shota wraps the blanket around his shoulders before he could protest.

The blanket begins to chase away the chill seeping in through the cold tiled floors. 

Katsuki hasn’t looked down at his arms yet. He knows what he’ll find. He can feel exactly what he had done to himself, and he isn’t inclined to stare at the damage. 

He offers his arms mutely to Recovery Girl, who takes them with firm yet gentle hands. Her fingers ghost over the edge of the cut, and Katsuki flinches, not from pain but the unwelcome touch. 

Recovery Girl murmurs an apology as she continues her examination. 

Katsuki remembers everything, even though he wishes he didn’t. Last night's events flood his mind as Recovery Girl’s feather-light touches mixed with the memories of his own. 

His only regret was passing out before he was able to hide the evidence. 

As if that wasn’t awful enough, he now bore witness to the horrified expressions on Shota’s and Hizashi's faces. Katsuki wanted more than anything to erase that completely from his brain. More than anything, he wanted to evaporate on the spot. 

He wouldn’t have to deal with this if he had died. He would have never seen Toga again, or failed the exam, or hurt people any longer. Katsuki hates Izuku more than ever. But more than anything, he hates that he’s alive, trapped here when nothing has gotten better. 

It’s all the same shit. He’s so tired of trying to be a better, happier person. Things never work out for him. Here he was, ruining the only good thing he had in his life, and Katsuki couldn’t even die because they were watching him closely.

He’s so sick of it all.

He doesn’t want to live another 80 years, dragging through each day solely for the peace of other people. He can’t live that long, he can’t keep doing this.

Everyone promises him that life gets better but it never does. Katsuki is always stuck waiting and trying and giving endlessly, but his life never changes. He’s always the same, in fact, he’s only getting worse. 

He’s just so fucking tired. 

Why can’t they let him die in peace? Why won’t they let him stop? Katsuki is hurting all of the time. Everything is always so fucking awful and he can’t ever escape it. 

“Oh Kiddo,” Hizashi murmurs as he swipes salty tears away with the pads of calloused thumbs.

Katsuki doesn’t even feel the shame of the situation any longer. Life has bleached itself of color; fading to gray. He is hollow once again. 

It’s the only thing consistent in his life right now.

“I’m finished,” Recovery Girl announces. 

Katsuki is exhausted ten-fold, dropping forward as his muscles give away. Hizashi tightens his grip around his body. The warmth of the man’s embrace weakens his resolve to stay awake, and in the quiet of the room, his eyes droop shut.

The adults are speaking when he drifts away. The low drone of their voices tugs him towards sleep. He only has the faint sensation of being lifted upwards and carried away before he gives way to sleep entirely.

When Katsuki wakes up for the second time, he’s laying on the couch in the living room. His arms are wrapped snugly in bandages. They itch underneath all of the thick gauze and tape. 

He stares at all of the white bandages holding him together. None of it feels real. He wishes everything had been some vivid nightmare.

“Are you awake, kid?” 

Katsuki lifts his head, batting away the final cobwebs of fatigue from his mind. Shota is sitting in the armchair nearby. There’s a movie playing in the background. In the distance, Katsuki can hear Hizashi clattering about in the kitchen. 

It takes a while for him to muster up some reply, although gratefully, Shota waits patiently nearby.

“Yeah,” he rasps. 

Shota’s dark eyes briefly dart to his arms. 

“Is he awake?” Hizashi calls out from the other room.

Eyes don’t leave him as the man responds, “Yes.”

Something bangs around in the sink. 

“Oh, alright then.”

Katsuki begins to shuffle into a sitting position, unable to suppress a wince as the wounds are jostled. He is hyper aware of the way his skin tugs and grates together around the wound. The gauze sticks to injury, sending little pinpricks of pain through his forearm as it pulls away.

“Easy there,” Shota begins to stand and make his way over. Katsuki doesn’t protest, although he’s mostly situated by the time he reaches his side.

There’s nothing for the man to help with.

“I can do it,” Katsuki murmurs. 

He can take a little pain. After all, he did this to himself. There’s no point in walking on eggshells around him. 

When he flicks his gaze to Shota, his guardian is hovering uselessly, watching him like he could fade away at any given moment.

“I’m fine,” Katsuki tries to soothe him, a foreign feeling welling up inside him. 

The words do nothing to smooth the worried wrinkles on Shota’s face. 

“We’re going to talk about this,” the man tells him, and a stone drops in his stomach. 

“We don’t have to.”

He hesitates; eyes roaming over Katsuki’s bandaged wrists, “We do.”

Katsuki gnaws on his lip as Shota returns to his post on the armchair. 

A moment later, Hizashi enters the room with steaming mugs. There is a slight, red puffiness surrounding his green eyes, an indicator that the tears from this morning had continued past Katsuki falling asleep. The typically happy man still has a smile pasted on his face, albeit a rather timid one.

Katsuki cannot help but feel an immense wave of guilt as he understands just how much this morning affected them. He refuses to look at the two any longer, instead picking at a stray thread on the blanket. It’s a different one from this morning, he notes. The other one has to be in the wash, or they discarded it after he bled all over it.

Another thing to feel awful about, then. He really does ruin everything, doesn’t he? Katsuki wishes he could be anyone else at this moment. 

“Katsuki,” Shota begins carefully, voice wavering slightly, “How are you feeling?”

He shrugs. If he speaks now, the growing lump in his throat will be obvious. Katsuki has the feeling that if he cries, Hizashi is going to begin again, and he doesn’t want them to cry over him any more. 

Hizashi sets a mug down in front of Katsuki on the coffee table. They didn’t have to make tea for him, especially after all they did this morning.

The lump in his throat is beginning to hurt. 

“Recovery Girl recommended ibuprofen if you’re in any pain,” Hizashi says, “She couldn’t heal you all the way. You didn’t have-”

His voice cracks, and Katsuki’s heart along with it. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Shota place a hand on the man’s knee. 

“You didn’t have enough stamina,” Shota finishes. 

Hizashi nods carefully, eyes brimming with unshed tears. 

That explains why Katsuki is wrapped up like a Christmas present, then. He hadn’t wanted to ask. 

“I thought we agreed that you would talk to us before you hurt yourself,” Hizashi finally manages to speak, voice fairly even. 

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. He continues to twist and roll the thread between two fingers. They were right, kind of. He hadn’t really said the words, but that had been one of the things they’d discussed the first day Shota brought him here. 

He knows he let both of them down. Katsuki doesn’t really expect either of them to understand. Although, he’s also not exactly privy to explaining his thought process. He could hardly force the words out as it was. 

He reaches for the mug, trying to suppress the tremble in his hands as he lifts it to his lips. The tea isn’t too hot nor too cold. As soon as the flavor washes over Katsuki’s tongue, he realizes it’s just the way he likes it.

They remembered.

Hizashi fucking remembered the way Katsuki preferred his tea- two sugars -and went out of his way to prepare it for him. The tea was the blend he preferred, not that he ever mentioned that specifically, which meant the mani had paid enough attention to notice. 

After everything, after all Katsuki did to them, and he still went the extra step to do this? 

‘They wouldn’t have done that if they were mad,’ a small voice in his head mutters.

Tears are flooding his eyes before he can get a grip.

“What’s wrong?” Hizashi asks worriedly, “I’m sorry, if you don’t like it I can make you another.”

He shakes his head quickly, setting the mug back down before his shaking hands spill it all over himself. 

“You remembered,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“I’m sorry?” Hizashi’s brows furrowed, “Remember what?”

Katsuki sniffled messily, wiping his eyes before any tears fell. 

“The tea?” Shota guessed.

He nods quickly, unable to speak without getting choked up. He knew it was stupid to get upset over, especially after everything else that had happened. But not many people noticed little things like this. No one ever really did stuff for him because he liked it, they just didn’t care enough to do so. 

Katsuki doubted his mom even knew how he liked his tea. 

However, he knew that she always took hers black. She never added sugar or milk. Katsuki always thought she liked everything bitter and raw. Mitsuki drank her alcohol straight, too. 

“Of course I remembered,” Hizashi was telling him, “I always want to make yours the way you like it.”

Katsuki stares at the mug. 

Eventually Shota clears his throat. 

“Did you cut yourself because of the exam yesterday?” He bluntly asks. 

Katsuki’s eye twitches. He hates the word ‘cutting’ , even if that's what he’s doing. Logically, he knows that it's just a word, but he can't ever make himself say it. 

“Sho,” Hizashi chides softly. “We agreed-”

“Hizashi, we need to know.”

“Not exactly,” hei says meekly, heading off their impending disagreement. 

“Were you trying to kill yourself?” Shota asks next, and this time the question is posed less aggressively.

Katsuki hesitates before shaking his head, “No.”

“We’re just trying to understand the situation,” Hizashi explains, “That’s all. Could you explain what led you to harming yourself?”

That’s an intimidating question. He isn’t sure how to explain the entirety of the mess that was the Provisional License Exam, or the fallout. How was he supposed to explain to his guardians that his piece of shit mother was right all along? Katsuki didn’t fancy getting kicked to the curb, especially by two pro heroes he admired greatly. 

“We just want to understand so we can help you, kid,” Shota adds on as the silence grows between them.

“I know,” he admits before insisting, “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

“We believe you,” Shota assures him, “Hizashi and I aren’t trying to accuse you. We want to understand why you harmed yourself so we can help prevent it in the future.”

Katsuki hadn’t thought about it earlier, but the blade was probably long gone. He doesn’t remember having seen either of his guardian’s with it this morning. However, his memories are pretty murky. 

He can clearly remember his entire exchange with Toga. He wants to tell them. He wants to tell them all of the awful things she did, and how he couldn’t focus on anything else. He wants to beg for their forgiveness, and apologize for not admitting to anything sooner. 

“We’re not going to judge you for anything you say,” Hizashi’s face is completely open and honest, “We only want to help you.”

Katsuki’s heart is beating so quickly, it's all he can hear. His hands are clammy and shaking so badly, he couldn’t hold onto anything if he wanted to. Everything is pressing against him, like the walls are closing in, but he struggles to find the words. 

Like ripping off a bandaid, Katsuki admits, “I saw Toga.”

The world grinds to a halt. 

“You saw Toga?” Hizashi repeats. 

A blank look settles over Shota’s face, and his knee begins to bounce. He knew this was a bad idea, he knew he shouldn't have said anything, but it was too late. The secret was out. 

“She talked to me,” Katsuki breathes out shakily.

His entire body is trembling now, almost like some outside force is shaking him around. He can’t look at them any longer, instead he begins twisting the loose thread again with shaky fingers as he rushes to explain, “I wanted to tell you but Izuku was already there. It was my fault. I’m so sorry, please don’t kick me out.”

“How was it your fault?” Shota murmurs, and to Katsuki’s horror, his teacher looks stricken with guilt, “I should’ve pulled you out. I should’ve never let you finish the test. God, if I had known -”

“Shota,” Hizashi cuts in firmly, “Not now.”

“‘Zashi,” he says weakly. “I didn’t-”

“I know, Sho, but not now,” To Katsuki, Hizashi asks, “What happened, Listener? Did she hurt you?”

“She didn’t even touch me,” Katsuki confesses, “She just wanted to talk to me. She wanted-”

his throat closes over before he can finish. 

“What did she want?” 

If he says it now, there’s no going back. They’ll know how fucked up he really is. They’ll know, and he can’t decide whether he’s ready or not, but the moment is dragging on and that window is closing. He doesn’t even know if he can say the words, even after all this time. 

“Katsuki?”

“She-” he swallows just to prove he still can, to feel his tongue move inside his mouth, safe and away from her, “She showed me my t-”

His cheeks are wet. His jaw chatters like he’s shivering, his heart is racing, every limb is trembling and there are equal looks of fear and apprehension on his guardian’s faces no matter how well they try to smother it. 

“She kept my tongue.”

Then everything goes to shit. 

Shota shoots up from his seat, startling Katsuki so badly he stops breathing and slaps both hands over his mouth before the man can move another inch. The abrupt action alarms Shota and he takes a step back. In response, Katsuki shrinks into the couch, cowering. 

Thankfully, both men freeze, although he is so lost in dread and panic he can’t prevent the fallout. Tears are freely falling down his face as he cries silently, an unfortunate skill from both his childhood and three day excursion with the she-devil. He’s still trembling like a leaf all over, to the point where it nearly looks like he’s having a seizure.

Before he can devolve further into a panic attack, Hizashi swallows heavily and begins murmuring, “You’re safe here, Katsuki. It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

He shudders, forcing himself to rub his tongue on the roof of his mouth to prove it’s still there. When he’s satisfied enough with its continued existence, he slowly lowers his hands back to his lap. He can’t stop the way his muscles are quivering, but as if the dam has broken, the words quickly spill out.

“They chained me up in this cell so I couldn’t move. She- they muzzled me and I couldn’t move. I tried to, and I couldn’t use my quirk either because of the quirk suppressors they put me in. There was this guy with a healing quirk too, so To- she could do whatever she wanted and he would heal me like it never happened in the first place. I thought it was all in my head, I thought I was going crazy and I couldn’t remember. I don’t know why, I know it’s just an excuse but I really didn’t-”

“Breathe, kid,” Shota says calmly, but there’s a growing horror in his eyes, “Take a minute.”

“I can’t,” Katsuki gasps. 

He wants to tell them every little gruesome detail. Wants to tell them exactly how Toga took him apart and put him back together. He wants to tell them every fucking thing, because if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. 

So he does.

From the moment Dabi brought him through the portal, to the second he caught Kirishima’s hand, Katsuki explains how the League ruined him. He continues on to relay what Toga had told him, and the vile piece of him that she had kept. 

When he’s finished speaking, a numb emptiness settles over him. He hasn’t met either of his guardian’s eyes during the retelling, and he’s not sure he’ll even be able to now. Katsuki is ashamed of how much he kept from them, and he’s sure they’re going to want to get rid of him now. There’s no doubt in his mind that Toga shattered him into pieces, and he understands by now that he’s a burden no one wants to bear on his best days. 

After this? Well, they’re definitely going to dump him off on the nearest person. 

“Katsuki, I am so sorry that happened to you.”

His head shoots up.

Hizashi is clutching Shota’s hand, neither of them appears angry or disappointed. They almost look sad.

“What?” He doesn’t understand.

Shota swallows heavily, a terrible pain in his eyes, “You didn’t deserve any of that, Katsuki. None of what happened was your fault.”

His breath hitches, “But I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve told you .”

Hizashi shakes his head gently. 

“What could you have done, Katsuki?” The man asks him, not unkindly, “They restrained you. They hurt you. All you had to do was survive, and you did . Their actions aren’t your responsibility, kiddo. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

He was crying again. 

“I should’ve told you,” he repeated, “I lied to you.”

“You’re telling us now,” Shota points out, “You wanted to tell us earlier, but kiddo, this is clearly very difficult for you to talk about. That’s okay. It was an awful thing that happened to you and it’s entirely understandable that you couldn’t talk about it sooner.”

“But if I told you about her yesterday, she never would’ve gone to Izuku. I- I helped them because I couldn’t say anything. I’m just like them.”

Hizashi is stricken and pale, “No- god no , kid. You’re not one of them.”

“Toga would have reached Midoriya before you would’ve found anyone to tell,” Shota adds on. “There’s nothing anyone could have done. In the future, the HPSC is establishing new protocols to prevent these infiltrations from happening. No matter how fast you got to me, Toga would still have time to reach Midoriya and run off. Midoriya is okay. She didn’t hurt him. That wasn’t your fault.”

“It was,” Katsuki insists, “I let her get inside my head. I helped them because I didn’t say anything and look at what happened. I’m not a good person. All I do is hurt people, how can you say I'm not one of them?”

“You were doing the best you could, Katsuki. That doesn’t make you a bad person, that makes you human ,” Shota stresses as he leans forward slightly, “None of this was your fault. Hizashi and I would’ve struggled to handle Toga if we were in your shoes. What happened to you was traumatic, awful and reacting to that doesn’t make you a bad person. 

“You are a good person, Kiddo. You aren’t evil . You’re not bad. You’re definitely not a villain. Katsuki, you’re just a kid that was put in a terrible situation and no one expects you to brush it off like it never happened.”

Katsuki is sobbing messily now. He can’t bring himself to believe Shota. Even with the comfort the soothing words bring, he can’t wrap his mind around it. They just didn’t get it. They didn’t see him treat civilians so callously. They never saw the way he snapped and dropped that one person he was supposed to be rescuing. They hadn’t seen or heard of half the shitty things he’d done. 

“Listener, did you hurt yourself because you believe that you’re a bad person?” Hizashi inquires softly. 

Katsuki shrugs. You’d think after telling them everything else, admitting to cutting himself would be a piece of cake. Yet the words still evade him, leaving him distinctly uncomfortable. His arms ache as a remainder of this morning's events. 

The tea has grown cold on the table. None of them have reached for their mugs since they were set down. A part of Katsuki mourns the loss of tea made specially for him. Hizashi went through the trouble of preparing it the way he liked just for him to take one measly sip. 

He realizes they’re waiting for him to verbally answer the question.

“Yes,” Katsuki finally admits, hating himself for it, “And no. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Why don’t you give it a shot?” Shota prompts.

He chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully. 

Self harm was never easy for him to discuss. Katsuki didn’t really understand why the urges came. Sometimes he could see why, but a part of him was always aware of how abnormal and complicated the feelings surrounding it were. Like, he was aware that hurting yourself shouldn’t feel good and logically, it made no sense.

But it still felt good . How was he supposed to admit that? How could Katsuki tell them how carving into his own flesh made him feel better?

“It feels good,” he began slowly, “I don’t do it all of the time. Sometimes everything just builds up and it becomes too much, I guess? Doing- well, doing that kind of makes it go away.”

“Does it feel like a release?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes I think I just need to feel something. I feel dead. Like everything is so numb I can’t even tell if my heart is beating. And doing that helps me to, uh, not feel that way.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Hizashi says, “I know that was a very difficult thing to talk about and we are so proud of you for sharing. We would like to see if Hound Dog can come by today considering what’s happened. We just want to make sure you’re safe, alright?

“If you don’t want to repeat everything, we can tell him. Whatever is most comfortable for you. However, we do feel that it is crucial he knows what has happened.”

Katsuki blinks stupidly for a moment. 

Of course they would want Inui to be in the loop. It made sense. He wasn’t too keen on saying all of this again to a whole new person. But it sounded like he didn’t really have a choice.

“I can do it.”

Shota doesn’t look entirely convinced, “Are you sure?”

Katsuki nods. Allowing the adults to steer that conversation was a cop out. He didn’t really want to, but he could say it again. He needed to do this. 

He was stronger than her. He wouldn’t allow that she-devil to dictate his life any longer.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll give Hound Dog a call then,” Shota stands up and eyes him fondly, “You’re a strong person, Kiddo. Don’t let anyone else tell you differently.”

Katsuki ducks his head before Shota sees how red his face has become. 

He has an emergency session with Inui later that day. 

Retelling the entire story is no easier than it was the first time, but Katsuki manages. Inui listens intently, never interrupting- allowing him the space to finish. It takes a while.

When he’s finally done, he just feels tired.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Katsuki,” Inui says gently, brown eyes softening as he eyes the slump of Katsuki’s shoulders, “We’re nearly done,” he assures. 

He feels the throbbing of his wrists, even though the worst of the damage had already been healed.

“I’m fine,” he rasps. 

“That was a traumatic experience,” Inui begins.

He shakes his head, heading off the man before his therapist divulges in that line of thinking any further. 

“It happened, it's over, and I lived. I won, okay?”

This didn’t feel like winning.

“I’m not some traumatized little kid-”

Katsuki felt like the memories were suffocating him.

“-I’m gonna be a hero. I’m not weak .”

Katsuki was like a stranger to himself.  

“I-” He chokes on air, “I’m fine.”

“Katsuki,” Inui murmurs. He can see the pity Inui attempts to hide, “What happened to you never made you weak. I’m sorry if anyone ever made you feel that way.”

His chest cracks open. He draws in a ragged, shaky breath. 

“It’s not like that,” He croaks, and he’s no longer entirely sure what point he’s trying to make, who he’s defending. 

Katsuki is two separate people. The person he was before, and the person he is after, now. Except now Katsuki is unrecognizable.

This person isn’t him. 

Everything is so fucked up, he doesn’t even know where to begin. The mess inside his head only seems to knot itself further and further. There’s no end in sight.

“Toga-” Inui starts, and the abrupt declaration of her name has him flinching, “hurt you. There was nothing you did that caused her to make that choice. While this did happen a couple weeks ago, Katsuki, it’s normal if it affected you. Reacting to a traumatic incident doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human .”

When did Inui become a blurry, watery mess through Katsuki’s eyes?

The man slides over a box of tissues that he doesn’t recall seeing before. He takes one, and they both stay quiet as he attempts to pull himself together. 

“I don't know who I am anymore,” Katsuki finally admits, “I can’t get it out of my head. I can’t sleep, I barely eat and stupid, little fucking things throw me off. Fucking Uraraka laughed a couple weeks ago, and all I could think of was her. ”

The boy pauses, struggling to keep his voice even, and looks up at Inui.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Inui promises him.

Inui decides to wrap it up for the day, but not before asking Katsuki all of the usual questions. ‘Do you feel safe with yourself? Are you planning on hurting yourself or others? Do you have any thoughts about suicide?’

He denies all of them. He only lies a little. He didn’t think he was going to kill himself before he saw Inui next, and he definitely wouldn’t be able to cut himself again anytime soon. It was fine. He was fine. Life was fucking sunshine and rainbows.

After Inui leaves, Katsuki begins to feel like the floor under his feet is a bit more stable. He’s still exhausted and achy, but the stormy emotions no longer seem so untameable. Maybe, just a bit at least, they’re a tad calmer. 

Hizashi pops his head out of the kitchen, “Hey, do you want to help me in the kitchen?”

He shrugs. 

A part of him still feels raw from oversharing, and the man is a lot on the best of days. Somehow, the loud older blonde still manages to convince Katsuki to assist him. 

Turns out, they’re making chocolate chip cookies. 

Hizashi pulls out ingredients as he rambles on about the upcoming guests on his radio show. A new female pro hero with an echolocation quirk is making a guest appearance on Wednesday. Katsuki stays silent as he grabs the butter from the man’s hand, unwrapping the paper and plopping the stick into the bowl.

“What are you two making?” Shota wanders in from the other room.

“Chocolate chip cookies,” Hizashi chirps.

Shota slips by and steals a bit of batter from the bowl. 

“There’s raw egg in there,” Katsuki tells him cautiously, “You’re not supposed to eat it.”

“I’ll take my chances, kid.”

“With salmonella?” He asks dryly.

Shota cracks a smile, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He stands there rigidly, unsure of what to say or do. The action is parental; he finds the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. 

“I appreciate the concern.” 

Shota takes his hand away. Katsuki almost misses it.

“He’s right Sho, leave the cookie batter alone.”

“It’s the best part,” the man counters, “I think it's worth the risk.”

“Don’t come crying to me if you get food poisoning,” Hizashi chides, eyes narrowing as Shota tries to sneakily get closer to the mixing bowl, “Don’t you dare.”

“‘Zashi, cmon-”

“No. Get out of the kitchen if you're just here to steal cookie dough.”

Katsuki looks back and forth between the two. Even though the conversation sounds like it's devolving into an argument, neither of the two pro heroes look remotely upset. In fact, Hizashi seems to be fighting back a laugh as Shota reaches for the bowl again. 

The scene is so domestic, so innocent, Katsuki feels out of place. He watches the two bicker playfully for another moment before slipping around them to add the next ingredients. As he pours the chocolate chips into the batter, he realizes this is what normal parents must be like. 

He kinda wishes Mitsuki could be like this, too. 

“Earth to Katsuki,” Hizashi says.

Katsuki looks over to find both of them watching him closely. They must have been calling his name for a while. 

“Sorry,” he grunts before turning back to the mixing bowl. 

“What were you thinking about?” 

he shrugs, “Nothing important.”

“You sure?” Hizashi checks again.

“Yeah,” he confirms. 

“Alright then, let’s get these cookies in the oven.”

Once they wrangle Shota into helping out, the process speeds up dramatically. In no time at all the cookie trays are in the oven and the timer is set. They head over to the couch and Hizashi puts on a classic romance movie from when he was in high school. Katsuki fake gags at the sappy scenes, even if the predictable storyline is one of his favorites. 

He will never admit to them that he had every word of this movie memorized by the time he was thirteen. 

Surrounded by people who actually care for him, Katsuki allows himself to sink deeper into the couch. They’re all wrapped in fuzzy blankets. He was able to get his favorite blanket back from the wash, bloodstain free. 

He is filled with warmth, from his head to the tips of his toes. It doesn’t take long for his eyelids to grow heavy. He doesn’t fight the fatigue pulling him under. 

For once, Katsuki dreams of something nice and stupidly benign. There’s no hint of the League, chains, or shiny silver knives.

Just a mop of green hair and a sweet, cheeky smile.

Chapter Text

Katsuki wasn’t sure how he felt about therapy. Inui was nice, and there was nothing wrong with talking to him, but Katsuki meant therapy as a whole. See, he didn’t feel any different. Yeah they talked about things and Katsuki shared more with him than anyone else, but Katsuki wasn’t any better. 

He wasn’t happier, he wasn’t any less panicky and he was still struggling to feel normal most days. His guardians kept reassuring him that these things take time. But Katsuki was beginning to think that therapy wouldn’t work for him. 

This week, Inui talked about coping skills. They’d discussed them briefly earlier on while Katsuki pretended to believe journaling and controlled breathing could actually help. Today, Inui went into detail and wanted to find coping skills Katsuki would be willing to try. 

They went through a worksheet of different coping skills. Inui had him practice breathing exercises and they picked a couple of things to help distract him from everything bad in his life.

Honestly, wasn’t this why people drank or got high? To distract them from the boring drudgery of life?

He didn’t think any of this was beneficial. More like something to keep him busy. That sounded like the entire point of therapy; something to keep people too occupied to worry about their own shit. So what, Katsuki was supposed to take a fucking walk outside next time he considered offing himself? And somehow this was gonna help him not want to kill himself?

What a fucking joke. 

Katsuki glanced over the worksheet they’d filled out during today’s session. An entire list and detailed plan of what to do so you don’t try to kill youself. Fucking wonderful. 

Katsuki reentered the common room, shoving the paper roughly in his pocket. He doubted he’d look at that shit again. 

Members of class 1-A were scattered throughout the common areas, either sprawled across couches or clustered around tables. He easily located his noisy group occupying one of the couches near the corner of the room. From afar, it looked like they were attempting to struggle through tonight’s homework. However, as Katsuki could speak from experience, they were definitely so far off topic that they forgot they were completing their homework at all.

“What's up?” Katsuki grunted as he tossed his bag down on the floor.

Kaminari groaned loudly, “Tell Mina she’s wrong!”

“I’m not wrong!” Mina whirled around in her seat and angrily stabbed a finger towards Kaminari, “Tell Denki he’s an idiot!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Naturally, he was right.

“You’re an idiot,” Katsuki said dryly before looking at Mina, “And you’re probably wrong.”

“What the hell bro?”

“Bakugou! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Bakubro,” Kirishima shoved his chair closer as Katsuki finally sat down, “Can you-”

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Katsuki threatened. 

Kirishima snorted. “Of course, King Explosion Murder God. Anyways, can you please get them to shut up? I’m trying to finish the math homework.”

“What are they arguing about anyway?”

Apparently hanging out with your friends was good for your mental health. Supposedly. Katsuki wasn’t sold on it. 

“Friday’s game night,” Sero butted in. 

Katsuki’s head snapped to where Sero was scribbling away across from them. He barely glanced their way as he continued to work on their essay for Hizashi’s class. 

“What are you on about?”

Sero shrugged, “Uh, the game night friday? What do you mean?”

What the fuck did Sero think he meant?

“What game night,” he demanded. 

“The game night on Friday-” Kirishima started.

“No.” Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to summon any ounce of remaining patience while his idiot friends kept repeated the same fucking phrase, completely ignoring what he was trying to ask. “You know what? Forget it. Why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

“I dunno,” Sero replied absentmindedly. 

Katsuki struggled to repress the growl lingering in the back of his throat. 

“Finish your fucking essay,” he snapped.

“What does it look like I’m trying to do?” Sero muttered.

Katsuki felt his eyelid twitching, felt the molten lava simmering under his skin, felt the rage splintering the cage inside of him-

“Are you coming?” Kirishima asked him quietly. 

“I don’t know,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

Now would probably be a great time to try those breathing exercises, a traitorous voice in his mind whispered.

Katsuki stubbornly ripped his bag open and pulled out the chemistry equations due Thursday. 

If no one told him about it, was he even fucking invited? How did everyone know about this but him? He hated this. He hated being out of the loop. 

“Midoriya’s been asking about you,” Kirishima murmured.

A dark line tore straight across the paper as Katsuki’s hand slipped. 

Izuku was asking about him?

“So?”

Kirishima shrugged. Katsuki ignored the painful clench of his heart, the aching reminder of his not best friend, the gaping hole that Izuku used to fill. 

He didn’t care now. He didn’t. He was over it.

“You should come,” was the only thing Kirishima said, eyes already glued back to his own homework.

Katsuki stared blankly at the dark line across his paper. 

Maybe it was time they figured their shit out. 

"I dunno," Katsuki murmured. 

The line taunted him, but his mind wandered far away from balancing chemical reactions. It was like his mind could only repeat one phrase: Izuku wanted to talk. 

For the rest of the week, he steadfastly ignored any interactions with his old friend. Even though his eyes couldn't help but drift over to where Izuku was. He heard snippets of conversations whenever he walked past him, but nothing that hinted at this mysterious talk Izuku wanted to have. 

He began to doubt it was even true. 

Friday night, Katsuki sat on the couch pressed between Kirishima and Mina, who were both talking ecstatically as if he wasn’t there. 

“We’re playing Never Have I Ever,” Momo announced, a small smile on her lips as she sat down. 

“Ooo, can I go first?” Mina begged her.

“Hold on, we should give everyone a chance,” Iida cut in. 

Momo dipped her head, although Katsuki noticed a slight twitch of her mouth, as if the girl was trying to hold back a laugh. At least he wasn’t the only one struggling with the urge to roll their eyes at Iida’s pompous nature. He wasn’t the worst person, but did he really feel the need to step on everyone’s toes anytime they came together for something?

Mina rolled her eyes obnoxiously- ugh, this is why they were friends- causing Iida to narrow his eyes at her. 

“Of course, princess,” Mina sang teasingly. Predictably, Iida flushed a dark red, “Would you like a turn?”

“I am simply trying to point out that-”

“Relax, I’m messing with you Iida. If anyone else would like to go first, I don’t mind. But if they don’t…” Mina’s eyes quickly darted around the assembled group. 

“Go off queen,” Aoyama sang.

Mina beamed before proudly announcing, “Never have I ever painted my nails red.”

“What the fuck?” Katsuki muttered. 

Most of the girls in the class put a finger down, bemoaning loudly.

“How have you never painted your nails red?” Uraraka asked.

Mina shrugged, “Red just isn’t my color, ya know?”

“I don’t know,” Todoroki deadpanned. 

Katsuki groaned aloud. “Shut the fuck up Icyhot.”

Todoroki turned to look him in the eye, “I don’t get it-”

“My turn!” Hagakure exclaimed, “Never have I ever seen myself in the mirror!”

Everyone put a finger down.

“Okay, that was a cheap shot,” Ojiro said. 

Sato stood up, “Can we make a rule that no one uses their quirks in their statement? It's unfair.”

Iida nodded swiftly, rushing to take charge, “Of course!”

“Mine still counts!” Hagakure cried out.

Momo winced. “Maybe pick a different one?”

“Fine,” Hagakure grumbled. She sat quietly for a moment, pondering what to say next. Then her outfit moved as she jumped up from the chair, “Okay! Never have I ever taken a karate class.”

Ojiro sputtered, “I thought we were friends!”

Hagakure huffed, crossing her arms as she plopped back down. “Yeah, but it's the only one I could think of at the moment.”

“Whatever.”

Ojiro sadly put a finger down, along with Izuku, Shoji, Kirishima, Uraraka and Iida. He could have totally guessed Iida, that prick was always chopping his hand everywhere. Katsuki smirked. So far he was doing alright.

“Who wants to go next?” Iida asked. 

Todoroki raised his hand like they were in class. Behind him, Kaminari snorted.

“Go ahead, Todoroki,” Iida encouraged, like moms do with their kids. 

Todoroki dipped his head. 

“Never have I ever eaten hot soba.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Katsuki snapped. “How have you never had it?”

“I don’t like it.”

“How the fuck do you know that if you’ve never had it?”

Todoroki stared at him blankly- fuck, that was so unnerving- before simply stating, “Because I don’t like hot soba.”

“But you’ve never tried it,” Katsuki stressed.

Todoroki frowned slightly.

“I know.”

“Then-”

“Give it a rest, Bakugou,” Kirishima put a hand on his arm, “It’s not worth it.”

“He makes no fucking sense,” Katsuki grumbled.

“I don’t like the hot version-” Todoroki continued again. 

“But you’ve never tried it,” Kaminari repeated the same thing he said, looking just as confused.

“We get it! Todoroki hasn’t eaten it but doesn’t like it. Okay, and?” Mina yelled.

“Maybe we should move on?” Izuku suggested.

“Everyone put a finger down if you’ve had hot soba,” Iida announced.

Everyone but Todoroki put a finger down.

“Do I win?” Todoroki asked hesitantly.

“No,” Izuku said quickly before Katsuki exploded, “that’s not how you win.”

Todoroki blinked. “Okay.”

“Who’s next?” Mina chirped.

“I can go,” Izuku offered.

“Go ahead, Midoriya!”

“Never have I ever,” Izuku’s eyes met his, and Katsuki felt his heart pause inside of his chest, “drank alcohol.”

Katsuki scowled reflexively, recoiling from his fucking traitor of an ex-best friend. 

“Excuse me?” He demanded, “What the fuck did you say?”

Izuku smirked, shrugging casually as if Katsuki wasn’t chomping at the bit to hit him. 

“Dunno, Kacchan. It sounds like you need to put a finger down.”

Katsuki grit his teeth, lowering his pointer finger so his middle stood on proud display, and raised his hand to Izuku’s face.

“Ugh, real mature, Kacchan,” Izuku grumbled, shoving his middle finger away. "You didn't need to put that many fingers down."

“My turn, asshole,” Katsuki growled, wracking his mind for any embarrassing memories of Izuku. Suddenly, he paused, a rather unfortunate incident involving Izuku tickling his brain. He smirked, eyes flicking to Izuku’s, and watched the color drain from his face. 

“Wait, Kacchan, maybe, er-”

“Shut it, nerd,” Katsuki barked, “Never have I ever grabbed my best friend’s mom’s breasts in front of my entire middle school.”

Izuku’s face burned hotter than Katsuki can ever remember seeing it. 

“Not fair,” Izuku muttered as he, too, lowered his pointer finger to flip Katsuki the bird. “You promised you’d never mention it again, asshole.”

“Hey, don’t get pissy now. You started this.”

“I did not, you’re just mad that I mentioned that you drank-”

Honestly, Katsuki doesn’t care. But he hasn’t messed with Izuku in ages and this opportunity was simply too good to pass up. 

“Like a fucking dickhead-”

“-which everyone already knows-”

“Does it look like I fucking care?”

“It was an accident.”

“No the fuck it wasn’t!”

“Hey guys,” Kirishima tried to interject.

Izuku rolled his eyes, “Not this, I’m talking about the thing with your mom.”

“You mean when you grabbed her tits?” Katsuki teased, happy with the way Izuku seemed to dissolve at the lewd insinuation.

The room bursts into sound.

“Fuck-” Izuku choked, his face burning red, “Don’t say it like that. I tripped, okay?”

“Liar-” Katsuki growled.

“I’m sorry,” Mina interrupts, leaning forward in her seat, “Midoriya did what now?”

“Maybe you should discuss this somewhere else,” Iida reprimanded sternly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. His eyes were wide, and a rosy blush covers his entire face. “This conversation is not appropriate to have in front of your classmates.”

“I’m not lying!” Izuku insisted, lunging forward to grab Katsuki’s shirt, and glaring fiercely, “I swear on my mom’s life, it was an accident. I never meant to touch your mom in that way! Kacchan, I respect her greatly, okay?”

Katsuki couldn’t take the ruse any longer. 

“Shit, Izuku, shut up. I know, alright? I’m just fucking with you,” Katsuki snorted dryly. 

“W-what?” Izuku stuttered, looking at him hopefully. 

“Deku, anyone with eyes could see that you tripped. You’re clumsy as shit. Plus, you’re not ballsy enough to ever even think of something like that. I would kill you before you even attempted it.”

Izuku’s brows furrowed, “Wait, are you calling me a coward?”

Katsuki placed a comforting hand on Izuku’s shoulder, sarcasm dripping from his mouth as he said, “Worse. I’m saying you’re too good to stoop that low.”

“I don’t understand,” Izuku began hesitantly, “Are you insulting me?”

“I don’t know, Deku, am I?” Katsuki deadpanned.

“I hate you.”

“Gross, affection,” Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“So are you two dating or what?” Todoroki questioned blandly. And loudly. 

Katsuki and Izuku turned to stare at him. 

“What? Are you keeping it a secret?”

“We’re not dating, dipshit,” Katsuki snarled at the same moment Izuku sputtered, “Shoto, no, it's not like that. We’re just friends-”

The worst thing is that it causes Katsuki to freeze. Friends? They were friends again? A hollow feeling settles over Katsuki’s stomach. 

Izuku seems to notice the changes in his demeanor. He reaches out before Katsuki can move away, pleadingly staring up at him, “Wait, Kacchan.”

Katsuki obliges, lingering around. 

Izuku whispers so only he can hear, “I want to talk later tonight. We need to figure some things out.”

The hollow feeling is quickly filled with lead, dragging him into the earth. 

“When?” He rasped quietly.

“After the games?” Izuku suggested hopefully.

“Okay. Let’s talk after,” Katsuki assures him, even as the anticipation fuels the anxiety rampaging through his nerves.

Kirishima was right about the conversation Izuku wants to have.

Why was he dreading this talk? He thought this is what he wanted; figuring things out with Izuku. But somehow, a slew of emotions sour the anticipation. 

“Maybe we play something else,” Izuku suggests loudly, “Charades?”

“Sure, I’m bored anyway,” Mina jumps to chime in. 

The rest of class 1-A speaks their agreement as well. 

“Teams of two,” Izuku says.

“No. Teams of four,” Katsuki disagrees.

“Teams of four might be easier,” Kaminari ventures on. 

“Five teams would be easier to handle than ten, ribbit,” Tsyu croaks. 

“Teams of four it is,” Iida confirms. 

Izuku narrows his eyes.

“Kacchan’s on my team,” he claims. 

Katsuki scowls, opening his mouth to deny it when Mina talks over him, “Sure, he’d love to!”

He glares at Mina venomously, but it's too late. The remainder of the class are already squabbling over their teams, and the rest of the idiot squad has formed as their opposition. In turn, Izuku’s gaggle of dumbasses have also formed another team of four, leaving Jiro and surprisingly Momo to fill in their remaining empty slots. 

Tokoyami, Hagakure, Ojiro and Koda make up another team while Sato, Mineta, Shoji and Aoyama make up the final group.  

They make it through two rounds of charades before getting too distracted and breaking off into conversation. Mina spills embarrassing stories about middle school aged Kirishima, who in turn shares stories about Mina. Apparently Momo and Todoroki also go way back. While Todoroki wasn't the best at sharing fun stories, Momo had a couple good ones. 

It was all pretty funny. Katsuki was admittedly having a good time. Then Izuku decided to join in. 

“I mean it's nothing like the time Kacchan-” Izuku abruptly broke off, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Somehow Katsuki knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Say it,” he urged.

Izuku shook his head, “No, I can't. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up-”

“What are you two talking about?” Uraraka asked, concerned. 

“Uh, maybe we should-” Kirishima started to direct their attention elsewhere, but Katsuki had enough.

“‘It’s nothing like the time Kacchan said he loved sucking on his sausage.’” Katsuki said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring Izuku down blankly, “Isn’t that right?”

Most of their classmates busted out laughing as soon as the words left his mouth. 

“No…” Izuku continued hesitantly. 

"Excuse me, you said what?" Kirishima asked.

"What the fuck?" Sero said.

"And you call me the pervert!" Mineta cried out. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki insisted, “You can tell them. I can tell you've been dying to share the story.”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” he insisted. 

“Oh really?”

“I wanna hear this story!” Kaminari yelled. 

“I was eating a sausage, but I was a fucking kid okay? And I was just sucking the juice out of it-" Katsuki scoffed at the incredulous faces, “I was fucking five! I didn't know what it fucking meant.”

Izuku snorted. “Even I knew-”

“Well, I didn't alright?”

Izuku shrugged. “I still think about what you said whenever I have a bad day.”

“I fucking know!”

“I don’t want to fight tonight,” Izuku said finally, but he was holding back a smile, “We can talk about this later.”

“Fine.”

“Okay then.”

“Whatever.”

Momo and Jiro stared at the both of them with shocked expressions. 

“And you thought we had issues,” Jiro cocked her eyebrow, hand on her hip as she spoke to Momo, “We have nothing on them.”

“I agree,” Momo murmured.

“Excuse me?” They both exclaimed, albeit Katsuki did a bit louder. 

“At least we’re not that far in the closet,” Jiro quipped.

Katsuki’s face burned. 

“Fuck you, Ears!”

“Fuck you too, Bakubro.”

Katsuki stepped forward menacingly. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

Jiro shrugged and smirked, “Bakugou.”

Katsuki side eyes her. 

“That’s what I thought,” he mutters gruffly. 

From there on out the group gives up on charades entirely. Izuku moves to the other side of the room, wrapped up in a conversation with Todoroki, Sato, Momo and Tsuyu. 

“Kacchan,” Izuku’s voice cuts through the bubble of conversation.

Katsuki’s head whips up, meeting Izuku’s piercing gaze from across the room. A mixture of anxiety and anticipation churns through his gut. Izuku doesn’t have to say another word. He’s already rising from his seat, the lightheartedness from seconds earlier gone like mist in the sun. 

They both walk towards the staircase. Izuku trails behind him, but it's Katsuki who hesitates at the second floor before Izuku forges ahead, leading the way to his room. 

Katsuki can’t quite remember the last time he was in Izuku’s room. Still, when Izuku pushes the door open a wave of nostalgia slams him in the face. 

It smells like him. Like pine and sandalwood, and a hint of vanilla from those candles Izuku loves. The walls are plastered with All Might photos. There’s hints of the hero everywhere. Izuku’s nerdiness bleeds out in every aspect of the room. 

The familiarity brings an easy smile to Katsuki’s face. 

“Kacchan?” 

It’s only when Izuku calls his name- softly, nearly hesitant- that Katsuki is brought back to reality. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you wanna sit down?”

Katsuki blinks, and the comforting fog of memories dissipates. Izuku is sitting on the bed, staring up at him expectantly. 

Katsuki sits down next to him mutely. 

The silence drags onward. 

“Well,” Katsuki finally says flatly. “Here we are.”

“I’m not good at this,” Izuku begins, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Neither am I.”

“I know,” the corner of Izuku’s mouth quirks upward, “You’re the worst at communicating.”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki snorts.

“It’s true and you know it.”

Katsuki just shrugs. He doesn’t need to confirm what they both already know. 

The hint of a smile vanishes from Izuku’s face. 

“I wish you would talk to me more. I wish you told me what you were thinking that day.”

The anxiety returns full force. Katsuki can’t bear to look at Izuku any longer. 

“I think about it a lot,” Izuku admits quietly.

“I do too.”

“You wish it worked,” Izuku accuses, “but I have dreams about if it had. Nightmares, actually. If I found you too late. Or if we all went to bed that night instead of waiting for you. They still scare me. I’m scared I’ll wake up one morning and find out you tried again, or worse, you’re gone.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to say. A mixture of guilt, anxiety and whatever this god-awful feeling is simmers inside of him. There’s no right way to apologize for trying to kill yourself. Especially when it would still feel like a lie. 

“I want us to be good again. I want to hang out with you like I used to,” Izuku continues after the silence becomes too heavy. 

“You asked for this,” the words slip from Katsuki’s lips before he has the mind to think them over.

“I know. And I-” Izuku’s beautiful green eyes are welling with tears, “I needed the space. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

“Why?” All of the hurt Katsuki had buried suddenly rises to the surface. All of the heartbreak, the pain, the betrayal. Suddenly it’s all right there, up at the forefront, and Katsuki can’t stop it from spilling out. “Why did you have to leave? I needed you.”

His voice cracks. 

Tears spill freely from Izuku’s eyes. 

“Kacchan, I needed to heal too. I can’t be that person for you. I can’t save you even if I wanted to. And seeing you like that, after the last time, it was too much. What would happen if you succeeded? It would be my fault. I wasn’t quick enough, I didn’t get you help fast enough, I didn’t see the signs. I can’t-” Izuku’s voice cracks horribly, and at that moment Katsuki doesn’t know a worse sound. But he swallows hard and forges onward, the pressure of oncoming tears audible, “It's not your fault, okay? I’m not blaming you. I just needed time to sort myself out. There was a lot going on and I knew that I was going to say some things I didn’t mean, and I wanted- I needed to get myself straight first.”

Words are warping themselves in his ears. He can’t seem to focus on anything else. Just like always, that pit inside of his chest opens again. 

You’re too much. You’re a fucking burden. You did this. You hurt him. How could you do that to him?

The blanket under his hands begins to feel too soft, too present and all too far away. A fog creeps into his mind. He can’t seem to focus correctly. 

“I’m too much?” He murmurs aloud. 

Izuku shakes his head vigorously, “Kacchan, no-”

Lies. Why would he admit you’re a burden to your face? Katsuki’s mind whispers darkly. 

“You say it's not my fault, but it is. It's because of me that you needed to leave. Because I’m too much. I’m a problem.” 

Everyone always said it. 

His mom said it. His teachers said it. Hell, even his middle school friends told him he was a lot to handle. 

Izuku had been by his side through it all. Of course he would be tired of him. Katsuki was exhausting. A burden. A fucking waste of space. 

Fuck, why did everyone fucking leave?

Izuku’s face crumpled as he spoke, “Katsuki-”

Izuku used his name instead of his nickname. 

“I’m leaving,” Katsuki bit out.

Better than staying and listening to Izuku attempt to explain what a shitty person he was in nice terms. Fuck that. Fuck Izuku. 

(Why did it have to hurt so much?)

“Wait!” Izuku cried out, lunging towards him intent on holding him back, but Katsuki slipped out of reach. “I didn’t mean it like that, please just-” 

“Fuck you,” Katsuki spat, ignoring the painful throb his heart gave. 

He was already out the door before Izuku could say anything else. 

He can feel the spiderweb of cracks splintering inside of him. The opportunities of life slammed their doors shut in his face. He was breaking.

No, he was already broken.

Katsuki is safely behind his own locked door before Izuku can reach him. He stays there, gripping the bed frame in a white-knuckled grip as Izuku bangs on the door and begs him to listen. 

Katsuki is painfully reminded of his mother.

“Fucking brat-” Mitsuki snarled before hitting the door so hard it rattled dangerously, “Open the fucking door! Who the fuck gave you permission to lock this shit?”

Katsuki cowered in the corner of his room, eyes locked on the door handle that twisted and shook, deathly afraid it would burst forth and let her in. The door groaned against the force his mother was forcing on it. 

He was faced with a losing situation- face his mother’s wrath now and pray she didn’t hurt him too badly, or wait it out and hope she didn’t plan something far worse. 

His hands trembled, and Katsuki’s legs refused to stand without quivering violently beneath him. Slowly, carefully, Katsuki crept closer to the door, closer to his unfortunate fate. His mother raged on from the other side, unrelenting and persistent. 

The cold chill of death wrapped itself around his shoulders as Katsuki took the doorknob in hand. 

The moment of truth. The final hour. The long awaited end. 

Mitsuki roared; the sound burning through his ears. He could hardly breathe. The world tunneled. All Katsuki could see was the doorknob, and the choice was made for him.

He opened the door.

Something pressed tightly over his ears- he couldn’t hear Mitsuki over the thundering pace of his own heart. Air rushed harshly in and out of his aching lungs. Distantly, Katsuki was aware of the way his fingers buzzed. 

Any moment now a fist would crunch into his cheek. Any moment now he would die. Any moment now, the end would begin. 

Katsuki waited. 

“Breathe in slowly, count to four.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hold your breath for another four seconds-”

His room was carpet, not hardwood floors. This wasn’t- when did she change the floors?

“Exhale slowly, you’re doing great Katsuki. Another four seconds.”

The walls wavered between barren white walls and his school desk. He didn’t go home. No, he never left- wait, he couldn’t hear her anymore.

“Again. Wait four seconds, then begin again.”

Katsuki wasn’t home. He was safe. He was at UA, wasn’t he? 

“There you go. You’re doing great. This exercise is called square breathing.”

Katsuki scowled, “How the fuck is that supposed to help?”

Inui didn’t even falter. 

Instead, he smiled and chuckled before saying, “This method helps control your breathing and return oxygen to your brain. Once you begin to get back to a regular pattern the amount of adrenaline decreases, which should help you end your panic attack.”

“It won’t work. How is breathing gonna stop me from panicking?”

“You’d be surprised.”

Finally, for what felt like the first time in a long while, Katsuki breathed.

Oh.

Oh.  

He wasn’t calm, but he was better than he was before. Maybe the breathing actually helped?

Maybe therapy wasn’t all bullshit then. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Katsuki dragged himself out of bed. Sleep hadn’t come easily. His dreams were plagued by sharp knives, cruel smiles and empty bottles. 

Lately he tried to not think of his mother, or her, but last night thrust it all back to the forefront of his mind. He was exhausted by the time Shota dropped both of them off for their remedial classes. Todoroki was silent the entire ride, focused on his phone while Katsuki stared out the window struggling to get his mind on track. 

Classes went by as they usually did. Gang Orca pushed them to their limits and then some. Drills and fake missions and quirk training. Explosion after explosion wore against the rough calluses on his palms. Nothing was ever good enough. 

Katsuki felt like a puddle of goo by the time Gang Orca called off this week’s lesson. Todoroki looked just as tired. They trudged to the locker room together to shower and change. 

It wasn’t until they were both sitting on the curb outside waiting for Shota to swing around and pick them up that Todoroki finally spoke to him.

“Do you think the training is helping?”

Katsuki didn’t feel like talking today. He didn’t want to do much of anything. As soon as they got back to the dorms, he planned on hiding away in his room and sleeping the rest of the day away. 

“I dunno,” he muttered non committedly. 

Todoroki hummed before they both drifted back into silence. 

He sighed heavily, dragging his sore hand over his eyes, another attempt to rub the fatigue away. 

The pills were supposed to help with this sort of thing. They were hard enough to take every morning. After the last, er, time that Katsuki had dabbled with pills, it was difficult to even hold one in his palm. 

Swallowing one every day felt like a method of torture. It took him no less than five minutes to pour the dose into his hand, and another indefinite stretch of time to convince himself to swallow the damn thing. Just another brutal daily reminder of just how fucked up he really was. 

“The retest is coming up soon,” Todoroki tried again. 

Katsuki sighed heavily. Again. 

The weight of talking, of communicating with other people felt like it was pushing him into the ground. Existing was perpetually exhausting. Dragging the words up from his throat, pushing the air into his lungs was enough work.

It was another one of those days. The kind where Katsuki thought about killing himself every second. The kind where living felt like torture. The kind where-

“Are you okay?”

He finally gathered enough energy to turn his head and look Todoroki in the eye. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

After all, what was another lie?

Todoroki frowned. Evidently, Katsuki didn’t have enough will to muster up a better excuse. Todoroki was bold enough to push him harder. 

The heterochromic boy’s brows furrowed. “Are you sure?”

The gods were giving him some reprieve as Shota rolled in front of the curb with the sleek black town car not a moment later. 

Katsuki wasted no time in getting up and clambering in the backseat. Todoroki walked around to the other side, climbing inside and buckling himself in as well. Thankfully, he didn’t ask Katsuki anything else. 

“How was practice today?” Shota asked as they pulled away from the building. 

“It was fine,” Todoroki replied after it became apparent Katsuki wasn’t going to.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Shota surveying him through the rearview mirror with a worried look in his eyes. 

“All good back there?” 

Katsuki shrugged, “Just tired.”

“Gang Orca had us running around the entire time,” Todoroki supplied helpfully.

Shota seemed to accept that, finally leaving Katsuki alone. Todoroki began peppering Shota with questions, occupying enough of their teacher’s attention that he was left in relative peace for the remainder of the ride home. 

The scenery passed by in a blur of color. Katsuki floated through a fugue state, neither here nor there. Life was just out of reach, nothing could touch him, and for a short while, Katsuki felt nothing. 

When they got back to UA, Shota dropped them off in front of the dorms before taking the car back to the parking garage. 

They trudged up the steps together. Katsuki opened the door for Todoroki, trying to feel some good from the action, but ultimately it weighed nothing against the slew of bad he had already committed. 

“Thanks,” Todoroki said before slipping inside.

Katsuki closed the door and kicked his shoes off. 

Todoroki was already halfway towards the staircase by the time he was finished. Some of their classmates mingled around the kitchen and tables. The more diligent students like Momo and Jirou were working on leftover homework, while Katsuki’s band of misfits were groggily waking up near the couches. 

Katsuki headed over their way.

Kirishima’s eyes were still halfway closed while Sero was napping on the corner of the couch. Kaminari’s familiar blonde hair could be seen in the kitchen. Mina was nowhere in sight.

“Good morning, bro,” Kirishima greeted him, voice still deep from sleep.

“It's afternoon,” Katsuki informed them.

Kaminari appeared, walking towards them from the kitchen with a mug of tea in one hand. 

“Hey, how was training today?”

“Fine.”

Sero cracked an eye open. “You always say that,” he commented.

“And it's always fine,” Katsuki said, a bit annoyed before collapsing on one of the couches. Maybe he could sit down for a bit before hiding away for the rest of the day. 

Kirishima eyed him for a moment. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Nothing,” Katsuki ground out. “I’m just gonna fucking sit here, and then go back to sleep.”

Sero snorted, eyes already closed again, “Mood.”

From his peripheral vision, Katsuki saw a pink blob coming down the steps. He stood up grudgingly. Getting caught in a conversation with Mina would keep him down here far longer than he would like, as much as he loved the girl, he needed a break today.

“I’m going to my room,” he said bluntly. 

Kirishima frowned, looking much more awake now. Kaminari and him shared a look before he decided to open his fat mouth, “Are you o-”

The doors banged open, and Katsuki flinched before he could help himself. 

“I am here!” All Might announced proudly. 

His classmates were mostly unphased. At this point in the semester, All Might had announced himself loudly and unexpectedly enough they were immune to the excitement. Katsuki had yet to enjoy that privilege. 

Katsuki whirled around, a frustrated snarl on his lips before another figure stepped around the old hero. Any thought of annoyance died on his tongue as life abruptly froze in place. Even the breath stilled inside of his lungs.

She smiled, warm and sweet and full of lies.

“Look who is here to see you, Bakugou!” All Might was saying, the words warping and warbling in his ears. The hero continued on, saying a bit more before leaving the way he came. The door shut, the sound screaming through the room, and Katsuki felt a rush of energy through his veins.

“Mom?” 

Mitsuki's smile is strained. Her lips spread thin and stretched over her teeth, every part of it uncomfortable, although Katsuki is the only one who sees it for what it is. 

“Katsuki,” Mitsuki greets him, “It’s been a while.”

Katsuki is frozen in the middle of the common room, staring at the familiar demon in the entryway she should have never again touched, in the room she should never again have seen, breathing the same air they ever should have shared again. 

“Aww, this is your mom, Bakugou?” Hagakure coos, “I missed seeing her at Parent’s Day. I can see the resemblance!”

They did look alike, didn’t they? The devil and her demon son, the monster and her spawn, the fucking bitch and her-

“I’ve missed you,” Mitsuki says. 

What she doesn’t add is that she missed him at the hearing. Katsuki knows what she means. He can see the simmering brutality behind her grinning face. He knows this devil. He knows exactly what she will do. 

“Why are you here?” Katsuki rasps, unable to hide the fear dredging up from memory. 

Mitsuki’s smile deepens when she notices it.

Katsuki wants nothing more than to hide away. 

“We haven’t talked in so long,” Mitsuki simpers as she strides closer. She stalks forward like a predator approaching its prey, keen and agile. 

Katsuki is the deer frozen in the headlights. 

“You’re not supposed to-”

“C’mon Bakugou, say hi to your mother at least,” Uraraka chides, “She came all this way to see you.”

Katsuki doesn’t say hi, he doesn’t say anything of the sort, in fact, “How did you get here?” Is all he can force himself to ask. 

Mitsuki tuts, “Where are your manners, Katsuki?”

Her eyes- his eyes -roam over his body. He is under the scrutiny of her gaze, every blemish and every imperfection magnified into view. Katsuki pulls himself up straighter.
“Hello, mom,” Katsuki says faintly. 

Mitsuki’s smile drips honey and sunshine.

“You’ve been ignoring me, Katsuki,” Mitsuki says.

For an outsider, the conversation probably appeared normal. A mother who missed her son, and the unruly teenager ignoring her. Although, he knows what she really means to say underneath all of her sugar and charm: I didn’t see you at the arraignment hearing. 

Katsuki falls into the old game like a duck to water.

“I had other things going on.”

“Did you now?” His mother simpers, “Too busy to see your mother?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” Mitsuki hums, eyes flicking around the common room. The rest of the class lingers nearby, not too subtly listening in. Kaminari in particular has been sipping his tea for the entire conversation, although the same amount remains in the cup. The blonde's eyes are narrowed, focused solely on his mother.

“Perhaps we should go somewhere else,” Mitsuki finally says.

As if Katsuki would want to be alone with this she-devil. 

“I’m fine here. What do you want?” Katsuki pushes again. Fear laces his bones, permeates the marrow and turns him into a weak, meak little kid. He rarely dares talk to her this way because they both understand the consequences of him doing so.

Mitsuki purses her lips, glancing again at the remaining students lingering around the common room. Immediately he knows that he won’t like whatever she wants to tell him. A vein twitches in her forehead.

“I would rather we speak in private.”

The thought of being alone with Mitsuki is equal parts daunting and fearful. In the midst of Katsuki’s internal unraveling, she places a delicate chilled hand on his shoulder. He can feel the tension bleeding into the atmosphere. He can feel the anger heating her body, the barest hint of irritation flickering like a heartbeat.

“I don’t-”

Mitsuki continues as if Katsuki hadn’t spoken at all, “Maybe in your room?” 

No. No, no, no. 

“No.”

For a moment, he doesn't realize he spoke at all. Mitsuki freezes, her fingernails digging into his shoulder painfully. 

“No?” She repeats cautiously, a dangerous edge entering her voice. 

“No,” Katsuki repeats. Anxiety swells inside of his chest, fear replacing every ounce of confidence left in his body. “Tell me what you want.”

Mitsuki scowls, the first noticeable break in her character. “Katsuki,” she begins, a warning ringing loud and clear. 

Katsuki swallows down the lump growing in his throat. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he murmurs, “I’ll tell Sho-Aizawa that you're here.”

He stumbles over his guardian’s name. 

“Are you threatening me?” Mitsuki asks cheerily. 

Her nails are beginning to really hurt, but he refuses to give her that satisfaction. 

“I’m not-”

“Fuck you,” Mitsuki spits, abandoning the charm, “You’re such a fucking brat.”

Katsuki wrenches his shoulder from her grip. Her nails rip his skin; he can feel blood well in the gouges left behind. His feet stumble away from her. Suddenly they are as heavy as cement blocks, useless and bulky. 

Mitsuki towers over him, swelling up and curling over him like a vulture, every scrap of her previous charm gone. Her eyes tear into him, full of venom and hate. One look and Katsuki dissolves into the coward he truly was.

“I waited for you. I thought I would apologize given the circumstances. But you stood me up. Oh, your true colors really became clear to me, Katsuki. You’re nothing but a lying, attention-seeking waste of space, and I wasted all of these years trying to make you into something you weren’t.”

Somewhere, a chorus of voices rise up, but Katsuki can’t move his eyes from his mother’s. He can’t move an inch. He is stuck, in this long terrible moment, as Mitsuki unleashes all of her pent up rage.

“Fuck you, Katsuki. I should’ve had that fucking abortion. I should’ve stabbed you in your heart the first time you gave me a lick of trouble. But I pitied you. I loved you, even like this. And now look at you,” Mitsuki scoffs, “How many people have you killed? How many heroes are dead because of you?”

Katsuki flounders between guilt and self loathing. It seems no matter where he turns, his mind is sinking into that all consuming darkness. He can’t speak, he can’t move, god, he can’t even think without pain lacing every fiber of his being. 

“I-“ The single syllable gets caught in his throat. Katsuki stares at his mother and drowns.

“You should fucking kill yourself. The world would be better off without you. Maybe then-“

A blur of electric green crashes into her, and the world explodes back into focus.

It seems everyone is screaming. Somewhere Deku is punching his mother, and in the other corner Mina is howling curses. His classmates are torn between blocking his view of her and calling security. 

In the widespread chaos, Katsuki is no one. It is unbelievably easy to disappear outside. Just as Katsuki slips into the treeline, he notices Shota and Hizashi bolting into the dorms. 

They don’t need him here. It’s better he leaves anyhow. After all, he's the only reason Mitsuki showed up here.

The forest is remarkably quiet. 

Katsuki wanders aimlessly. For once his mind is blissfully blank, void of any hint of emotions or thoughts. It's a feeling akin to peace, but Katsuki would never call this vacuum of feeling peaceful. Empty is more accurate. A black hole. 

Even so, the darkness doesn’t permeate through. 

For once, Katsuki thinks of Masaru. He wonders if his father is still alive somewhere. Did he even love Mitsuki? Or did she trick him into having a child? The idea of Mitsuki loving anyone or anything seems just as likely as the grass growing in shades of purple. 

She must have, at one point, fallen in love with someone. 

Katsuki knows their similarities spread beyond their appearances. He sees Mitsuki in the way he drinks, in the way he fights, in the way he keeps others at a distance. In some twisted, vile way, he has come to understand the way she is. And in that same manner, Katsuki has come to hate himself even more. 

Mitsuki hated her mother the same way Katsuki hated her. She used to tell him stories of how his grandmother would lock her in closets, dress her in awful baggy clothing and starve her skinny. They were cautionary tales, a warning for how Katsuki shouldn’t act. 

The problem with abused kids is that they grow up. And if they never heal, they become abusive parents. 

Katsuki didn’t want to be like Mitsuki. He didn't want to be another hateful, decrepit creature in the long line of Bakugous. More than anything, he wanted to be good. 

But more often than not Katsuki found Mitsuki staring right back at him in the mirror. And Katsuki knew the ending to this story. 

So here he was again, staring down into the abyss. That familiar claustrophobic feeling crushing him down in the dirt. All the doors slammed shut in his face. 

Was this the end? Is this it?

How many attempts was this now? Four? Or am I still floundering around three? Katsuki mused darkly. 

The world crashed down around him, but Katsuki stood unbothered. The constricting feeling in his chest dissipated, leaving only the empty pit. There was nothing more to do. Nothing left to say. 

Katsuki was done. 

God, this was so familiar, yet Katsuki hated everything anew. After everything he had done, all of the therapy sessions, the medications, the self improvement, all to fall apart like it never mattered. He was destined to kill himself. 

Maybe some people just weren’t made to be alive. If that was the case, he were one of them. Too much had happened to simply be chalked off as coincidence or bad luck. No, this was intentional. 

He found himself toeing the actual ledge, some high rise building in downtown Mustafu, staring down at the pavement below. He had no cohesive memory of how he got here but that didn’t really matter at this point. Nothing fucking mattered. 

And just like that, Katsuki knew what would happen next. 

“Kacchan?” 

Katsuki snorted dryly.

“Why the fuck does this always happen to me?” He mused aloud. 

“Get back, please?” Izuku asked him softly, nearly whispering, “You’re too close to the edge.”

He laughed, “Isn’t that the fucking point?” 

“Kacchan,” Izuku begged, “Please.”

“I thought it would get better,” he admitted, “I was really trying this time. I took all the pills they gave me, I went to therapy and I did the fucking work.”

Izuku didn’t say anything. Katsuki didn’t want to turn around. He couldn’t admit this to his oldest friend’s face. He couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“I thought-” His voice cracked painfully, and he swallowed against the lump in his throat, “Why doesn’t it get better?”

“I don’t know.”

Finally, Katsuki turned around. Izuku stood there, a stone's throw away, face pale and pinched, a wild gleam in his eyes. He knew this was killing him, he knew Izuku was scared, but Katsuki could only focus on the pieces crumbling to dust around him. 

His face felt wet, and his breaths hitched slightly in his chest but he forged on, “I can’t keep doing this. Haven’t I tried enough? I’m fucking tired, ‘Zuku. I’m so fucking tired.”

Izuku sucked in a ragged breath as tears spilled down his face. There was nothing to say. Izuku couldn’t do a single thing to possibly fix this and they both knew it. 

“Kats, please. I can’t do this without you.”

“When is it enough?” He asked dully. 

“You can’t ask me that,” Izuku said, “That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair!” He snapped. 

“I know-”

“Do you? Do you have any fucking idea the shit I deal with? Every damn day, from the second I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, I think about killing myself. I’m not happy. I’m not hopeful. I’m a fucking mess and everyone knows. 

“It doesn't matter how many pills they give me or how many safety plans I make. I am broken, Izuku. I hate myself. I hate this life. I can change it a thousand times and I’ll never be happy. I was born this way. There’s nothing anyone can do to change it.”

Then he laughed. “You fucking left me, asshole! Why are you here now? What- are you scared I’m going to do something? Are you afraid I’m going to try and kill myself again?”

“Kats, that's not fair,” Izuku murmurs, “I miss you. Please don’t do anything-”

“You are. You’re here because you think I’m gonna kill myself.”

“I can’t lose you!” Izuku bursts out. 

Katsuki snarls, “You left!”

“Because I couldn’t watch you destroy yourself!” 

His heart tears itself in two. “What?”

Izuku sobs, “I can’t keep watching you try and kill yourself. And I, I don’t know how to say this right. I tried to tell you last night but I think I said the wrong thing, and I- I don’t want- I can’t lose you!”

“You didn’t want me anymore,” Katsuki says, confusion and hurt tearing whatever is left inside of him apart. “I’m a burden, I’m a fucking problem, I’m just going to hurt you. Don’t you understand that? Isn’t that why you left?”

“No! God, no, Katsuki, no-”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Katsuki begged. “Please.”

Izuku’s brows furrowed, eyes still freely spilling tears down his cheeks, “What are you talking about?”

Katsuki isn’t sure where they’re going anymore. He doesn’t know why Izuku is acting like he doesn’t understand exactly what he’s doing. 

“I can’t-” 

The words die in his throat. He doesn’t know how to communicate this. Izuku is still looking at him expectantly, still crying, just like Katsuki warned him. 

“I don't like it,” is all he manages to say. “Call me anything else.”

Izuku nods, confusion mingling with the pain Katsuki always brings, “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

Katsuki turns away, staring back at the concrete below. Does it even matter now? Izuku will save him, just like he always does, and just like always, Katsuki will dread opening his eyes to a new day.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Izuku calls out as a violent wind whips through the city. 

“I’m thinking I don’t want to fucking be here!” Katsuki yells back. The frustration oozes from his core, “I hate that you’re always fucking here, stopping me. All I do is hurt you and you keep saving me- why? Let me go! Let me-”

“NO!” 

Katsuki startles, and the wind pushes his balance off kilter before gravity begins to finish what he started. 

His feet don’t even leave the edge before Izuku bursts in front of him, electricity crackling around his frame, snatching his shirt and yanking him safely away. They tumble across the rooftop, skin scratching against the rough concrete.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he finally comes to a stop. 

Katsuki quickly becomes aware of the pressing weight over him. He opens his eyes, staring into the deep pools of viridian inches away. He’s breathless; they both are. 

Izuku pants, struggling to catch his breath. His rough hands still clutch the fabric of Katsuki’s shirt, holding on so tightly he’s worried the shirt will tear. 

Shota bought him this shirt. 

Katsuki opens his mouth, but before he can say a word Izuku begins to speak.

“You’re not a burden, Kacchan. You’re not useless,” Izuku’s determined glare halts Katsuki in his tracks, “You’re not any of those fucking lies your mother told you. You are strong. You’re brave, and kind, and thoughtful, and yeah, you curse a bit, but that doesn’t make you a villain. You don’t hurt people. You save them. You’re one of the reasons I’m still alive. You’re one of the only reasons I’m still here today-”

“I-”

“No.” 

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut. A salty tear splashes onto Katsuki’s cheek. 

“Please,” he begs hoarsely, “Let me finish.”

Katsuki says nothing.

“Back in middle school, I was depressed. Things got bad, you were there so you remember-”

“They were shitty,” Katsuki comments.

Izuku chuckles dryly. 

“Yeah, they were shitty. You were my only friend-”

And look at what happened, Katsuki wants to say. I hurt you.

“I thought about killing myself. I wanted it to end. I was a Quirkless freak with no dad and one friend in a school full of bullies. My mom worked a lot to support us so most of the time I was alone. I hated myself. I hated being alive.”

He’s crying. Tears are filling his eyes, blurring Izuku’s face above him. 

“I wrote a note. I made a plan. I was going to jump.”

Katsuki flinches fiercely. Izuku is already shaking his head, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Listen, please. It wasn’t your fault. I never told you about this because I thought you would blame yourself, but you need to know. It wasn’t your fault. This happened before, and anyways, I was in a better place when all of that happened.

“My mom came home early. I told her everything. She cried, we both did, a lot. And I got help. That’s when I started seeing my therapist, and I got on meds, and I started hanging out with you more again.”

He remembers Izuku drifting away for a while. Back then, he thought they were just growing older. He thought Izuku didn’t like him as a friend anymore. Mitsuki had started getting worse, but that was no excuse. He felt like a shitty friend. He couldn’t even notice when Izuku was going through a hard time. 

“It didn’t immediately get better. I still got bullied. I was still depressed, but eventually, things got better. I’m happy now. I’m glad I never went through with it,” Izuku says with a shy smile. 

Katsuki says nothing, and Izuku’s smile sours in the silence. His friend looks away. He’s staring at the rooftop access door, surveying the roof for reasons Katsuki can’t comprehend. 

“I’m happy for you,” Katsuki says, and he means it. 

Izuku smiles bitterly, “I wanted that for you. I kept thinking I could help you like therapy helped me. But I'm not a therapist. I’m not able to help you the way I wanted to.”

He’s right. They both know he’s right. Katsuki is unfixable, and Izuku has finally realized what he knew all along.

Izuku’s eyes widen, and he’s rushing to move off Katsuki’s body. Oddly, he finds himself missing the warmth.

“I’m so sorry! I got sidetracked, I should’ve gotten off a while ago.” 

Izuku sits next to him, wincing. His entire face is beet red.

“It’s alright,” he grunts, moving his aching body off the cold concrete. His own face warms and he lies, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sorry,” Izuku apologies again.

They don’t say anything for a little while. 

Katsuki still feels shitty, even if Izuku still wants to be his friend, he still wants to die. It’s only a matter of time before he leaves entirely. It happened once, it’ll happen again.

Now, Izuku understands his brokenness. 

“There is something fundamentally wrong with me,” Katsuki whispered harshly into the silence. “Ever since I could remember, I felt like something was off. But no matter how hard I try I can never fix it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Katsuki swallowed heavily, refusing to meet the other boy's eyes. He was afraid that if he did, Katsuki would never be able to find the courage to finish speaking.

“I can never name it. It’s more of a feeling, like uh, an intuition than anything else. Honestly, I don’t think it can be fixed. Not anymore, not after everything. I'll always be this way. It’s just the way I was made.”

There are tears, rising viciously to cloud his vision, welling up until no more can be withheld, and then they finally break, spilling over his cheekbones and dropping to the earth. Even after crying has become inevitable, Katsuki attempts to violently hold each wave back, wrestling vainly with the rapidly growing pain inside of him, the irrevocable depression that consumes every atom of his being. 

Crying has become as physically painful as the wounds causing it. 

(Katsuki hates himself.)

And yet he still forges onward, past the horrible cracks in his voice, or the ache in his lungs, croaking, “Please. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Please, Izuku, please. Just let me go.”

Izuku snaps forward, reaching out with scarred hands to grip Katsuki’s hands in his own, tears streaming from his own eyes as he whispers fiercely back, “I will never let you go.”

Katsuki sobs, splintering apart a little more. “I can’t do this, Izuku. I really can’t. I’ve tried- I’ve been trying- and this is all I ever am.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku begs, his voice guttural and fragile at the same time, “I- Well, I- losing you would ruin me. I would never forgive myself for letting you go. You will get through this. I swear.”

“Izuku, how can you say that after all of this fucking time? It’s still the same, and you know it.”

“It’s not. Kacchan, please. Keep trying. Keep fighting. For me.” 

Katsuki breaks.

“I’m so fucking tired. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry-” He sobs disgustingly, folding over himself like the will to live has drained him of the energy to hold himself up.

Izuku says nothing more, just crying over and over, begging him to stay, “Please.”

All Katsuki can do is apologize.

Over and over.

The walk of shame means something different to Katsuki. 

The walk of shame is this: another failed suicide attempt, another messy aftermath he drags onto someone else when he can’t handle it by himself anymore. 

When he tried to kill himself the second time in middle school (the first dabble with pills), Katsuki dragged his overdosed body to Izuku’s apartment halfway across the city. He can’t remember how he made it, or ever making that decision, but he vaguely remembers vomiting on Izuku’s floors and the terrified look on his best friend’s face.

This time, they walk in relative silence back to UA. 

“I want to save you,” Izuku admits, “but I don’t think I can. At least, not in the way I hoped.”

He shrugs; empty, numb, and emotionally exhausted. 

“I told you already there’s no point.”

“There is,” Izuku insists.

Katsuki rolls his eyes and sighs, “You got better. Therapy worked for you and it didn’t for me.”

“Maybe it takes longer? Or you need different medications.”

“How long do I have to keep trying before I’m allowed to give in? Before it's socially acceptable,” he sneers.

Izuku side-eyes him, a flicker of anguish breaking across his face.

“Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve already given up.”

Katsuki snorts. “Because I already have. I thought that was fucking obvious. We’re having the same conversation we always have.”

Izuku hesitates, “I’m trying to say that I wanted to help you, but I wasn’t capable. We’re just kids in the end. I don’t know any more about this than you do. I thought the same things that helped me would help you too. Don’t get me wrong- I think they will. But my depression isn’t the same as yours. Even if it never goes away, that doesn’t mean you have to die.”

What?

Izuku groans, running a hand through his messy green locks, “I’m messing this up again, aren’t I? I’m sorry. Don’t listen to me. My brain is fried.”

Deku didn't understand. Depression was different for him. He got better. 

Even so, Katsuki couldn't get it to stop running through his mind. 

Even if it never goes away, that doesn’t mean you have to die.

Even if it never goes away, that doesn’t mean you have to die.

Even if it never goes away, that doesn’t mean you have to die.

Chapter Text

“Hey nerd,” Katsuki says. 

Izuku is walking next to him. They’re getting closer to UA now; only a couple more streets left. They haven't said much on the walk back. Izuku is still sniffling lightly every couple minutes, his eyes are red and slightly watery. 

“Hm?”

The problem with Mitsuki manipulating her way into seeing him was that she confronted him in front of a good majority in the class. Now everyone had seen what a weak fucking coward he really was. He ran away like a little kid and tried to jump off a building. 

Katsuki knew Izuku would tell Shota and Hizashi what occurred on the rooftop. People would know what he tried to do. Especially if they forced him into fucking suicide watch for another 72 hours. 

Izuku looks at him questioningly. Katsuki swallows heavily as he attempts to gather his thoughts together. 

“Don’t tell them what I did, uh, back there,” he says lamely. 

Izuku frowns, he knows the answer before the words even come from his mouth, “I can’t just not tell them, Kacchan.”

“Yes you can,” Katsuki insists. “I don’t want to disappoint them or something. And nothing happened up there. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Izuku’s already shaking his head before the words can finish coming out of his mouth. 

A flicker of that old familiar flame ignites inside of him. 

“You still tried to kill yourself,” the other says, and Katsuki interally winces at the blunt statement. 

Any hint of anger smolders under the weight of his guilt and shame. 

“C’mon-” He tries to beg. 

He never begs. He hates it. The nerd knows it, too. 

“No,” Izuku reiterates fiercely. “I’m not going to do that. They need to know.”

“Deku, what the fuck? I didn't jump or anything.”

“You wanted to! I’m not fighting you on this. I’m trying to keep you safe,” Izuku pleads, eyes glistening with tears.

He cries too easily. It’s probably the one thing about him that Katsuki genuinely hates. 

Jesus, why does he have to look at him like that? Katsuki’s stomach sinks through the pavement. 

Before the nerd can pull any more manipulative tricks out, he caves. 

“Okay.”

Izuku smiles. It’s soft and warm and Katsuki wants to hug him, or hold his hand, or simply tell him everything is going to be okay. Instead he internally melts, and they continue in silence for another block. 

He can see the wall of UA at the end of the street. They’re nearly there. Was Mitsuki still on campus? Or had they kicked her out already?

Painfully, he swallows, licking his lips and trying to find the words. 

Mother. Should he call her by what she is, even as distant as the title portrays? Or should he say Mom, and buy into those old buried feelings he pretends he doesn’t feel? 

Instead, he says neither of the sort, “Where is she?” He asks plainly. 

Izuku spares him a sideways glance. There’s anger simmering behind that smile, something he hasn’t seen on Izuku’s face in a long while. Not even when they fought recently. 

“Detained in the police station by Endeavor’s agency.”

Thank god she wasn’t on campus. Katsuki never wanted to see her again. But he couldn’t help and wonder how she’d gotten on campus in the first place. 

“All Might was a dumbass and your mom is manipulative,” Izuku continues to rant, “Nothing she said earlier was true. I’m so glad you’re alive, and you’re amazing, Kacchan. You’ll be the best hero! I can’t believe-”

“Thanks,” he says gruffly. 

The nerd is still raging on in the background, a blanket of muttering white noise as he begins to space out. 

He pictures her in cuffs, screaming like a banshee as Shota hauls her away. The weakness, the inability to scratch or fight, the ineffectual bindings she deserved. Her voice was always the worst. Not her hands, or nails, or bottles. 

Her voice was her true weapon, and the words she crafted together were sharp as knives and just as dangerous. 

There's still a part of him that longs for her. He wants those fucking pink carnations they would press between pages. He wants the warm summer mornings when she would make him his favorite breakfast. He wants the kiss on his head, the warm caress, the unconditional love only a mother could give. 

What does that say about him, that his own mother could never provide that?

“What are you thinking about?” Izuku asks him carefully. 

“Her.”

“Mitsuki,” Izuku confirms. He’s unable to hide the sneer of distaste, another funny look on Izuku’s normally cheerful expression. 

“Yeah.”

“What about her?”

Katsuki hesitates. The gates are in front of them. Izuku has his student ID out of his pocket, prepared to scan for entry. Katsuki makes no move to pull his out. 

“Is-” Katsuki looks away quickly, glaring at the concrete. “Is it weird I still fucking care about her?”

Izuku doesn’t immediately reply. Katsuki takes the opportunity to scrounge for his ID, swiping it and opening the gate.

“Nevermind.”

“No!” Izuku cries out, “Sorry, I don’t think it's weird. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Because it's weird,” Katsuki insists as Izuku swipes his own ID.

“I wanted to find the right words,” Izuku explains easily, “She’s still your mom, even after everything that happened. So no, I don’t think it’s weird you still care for her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to lie to you, Kacchan.”

The nickname draws a smile onto Katsuki’s lips.

“Good.”

Izuku beams at him, and Katsuki’s heart stumbles inside of his chest. There’s so many freckles on Izuku’s face, more than the last time he saw them. Or were they always like that? 

“Are you ready?”

Katsuki shrugs, blinking away the intruding thoughts.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“What the fuck, Nedzu?”

Shota slams his fist down on the rat’s desk, burning a hole through his beady little eyes as his quirk unintentionally activates.

Nedzu’s left ear twitched, the only sign of his displeasure. Even so, he didn’t say a fucking word. Shota’s jaw was clenched so hard he thought his teeth might splinter under the pressure. 

“I said-”

“I’m sorry, Eraserhead,” All Might pleaded. His wiry, lanky frame was nearly swallowed entirely by the chair in front of Nedzu’s desk.

Shota snarled ferally, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Nedzu cleared his throat. “Aizawa, I’m sure you understand that-”

“He doesn’t have his teacher’s license, so why the fuck is he here?” Shota roared. 

Nedzu’s ears began to flatten, another clear indication of his growing frustration. 

“Ai-”

“He let Katsuki’s abhorrent mother on this fucking campus- one of the only places his safety should be guaranteed. And now,” Shota growled, towering over the vile rat, “That witch threatened him, hurt him, and he’s gone off to gods know where-”

“Aizawa.” Nedzu insisted.

“-and you’re telling me that the fucking idiot who allowed this to happen shouldn’t even be on the faculty here in the first place,” Shota continued angrily. 

“Aizawa!” Nedzu yelled. 

“What?” Shota hissed. “What could you possibly have to say?”’

“All Might made up for his lack of licensure in his heroic expertise and unique abilities-” Nedzu begins to explain in the overly cheerful tone of someone who is grasping for their last shred of patience. 

Shota slams his fist on the desk again. “He is the reason she hurt Katsuki. He let that fucking wretch on campus, Nedzu. He ignored the proper protocols because of your starry-eyed admiration that led to that buffoon getting hired in the first place.”

“Again,” All Might began to say, “I’m s-”

“Stop talking,” Shota barked. “You don’t get to speak right now.”

All Might winced and looked away. His hair fell to cover his paling face. Coward.

“Aizawa, you don’t get to speak to your colleagues this way,” Nedzu chided. He was now standing upright in the chair, both paws on the desk Shota had slammed his fist on. He held one snowy white paw up in the air when Shota opened his mouth to protest further, “All Might was hired because of his twenty years of service as a pro hero. Not to mention, a pro hero at the top of the rankings for over fifteen years. He will be going to lessons outside of school hours from here on out to gain the proper teaching education requirements. This was an oversight on my part and it will not happen again.”

Nedzu grit the last sentence out as if the admission were physically painful. Shota glowered towards the slippery creature. “This should never have happened.”

“I agree. And it won’t happen again.”

They both stared at each other. Shota hated looking him in the eyes; soulless pits of withheld agony and hatred. 

“I don’t extend my dislike towards children, even I believe they are innocent,” Nedzu informs him calmly. It's as if the rat read his mind. 

While Shota isn’t currently fond of the furry creature, he does trust him in some manner. Even with his beliefs towards humans, Shota had never seen him take it out on a child. He didn’t really believe Nedzu tried to make the Mitsuki situation happen. 

Of course, it didn’t change the fact this should have never, ever happened at all. 

Shota hated this entire situation with every fiber of his being. But this was the best apology Nedzu could offer him, and Shota knew he had no choice but to accept. 

“Fine. But All Might will publicly apologize to Katsuki.” 

Nedzu smiled faintly and lowered himself back into his comfortable chair. 

“Yes, of course. I promise you, Aizawa, I’ll deal with All Might,” Nedzu insisted seriously. “This won’t happen again.”

All Might was still avoiding eye contact. He looked every bit the guilty party, all slumped and dull. Shota wanted him to feel guilty. 

His kid was hurt and he couldn’t find him. This was such a mess. He needed to be out there searching, not dealing with this shit. 

“He better be alright,” Shota finally growled towards All Might. “You’re going to stay away from him. If I catch you within fifty yards of my child, I will dispose of you myself.”

He marched to the door, flung it open and slammed it behind him, too pissed off and scared to control himself. Katsuki was out there, hurt and alone. What if he was taken again? What if he hurt himself?

What if he was already dead?

“Wait!” A familiar voice yelped before heavy footsteps scrambled after him. 

“Any news?” Shota demanded.

Hizashi shoved his phone in front of his face. The screen was too close and bright to read properly. Hizashi quickly rambled on, “Midoriya found him. They’re on their way back.”

They weren’t safe. Two of his biggest problem children together, alone, outside of UA’s protection? Absolutely not. This was screaming trouble. 

“We need to get to them.”

Hizashi frowned, grabbing Shota’s arm and pulling him back. “What are you talking about? They’re not far.”

“They aren’t safe, Hizashi. Alone, out there? Anything could happen.”

“Sho-” 

Suddenly both of their phones pinged. Shota yanked his device out and checked the notification. Relief flooded through his body like a tsunami. 

“They’re both on campus,” Hizashi soothed as he read the text aloud. “See? We can meet them on the walk and make sure everyone is okay.”

Something burned behind Shota’s eyes. He blinked heavily to clear it. 

“I can’t lose him,” Shota admits shakily, inhaling and exhaling before continuing, “Any of them, but especially him. He’s our kid, ‘Zashi.”

Hizashi’s expression melts and he quickly steps forward and wraps Shota up in his strong embrace. The soothing smell of Hizashi’s cologne filling his nose. He allows himself to release some of the tension in his body. 

“I know, honey. I love him too.”

Shota exited the hug, pushing off the feeling of safety. “Let's go see them.”

“Absolutely,” Hizashi agreed, all too familiar with Shota’s curt style of affection. 

They hurried out of the building and down the walkway. In a few minutes, they spotted a pair walking towards them. Immediately Shota could tell it was Katsuki and Midoriya.

“Aizawa-sensei,” Midoriya greets as they get closer. 

Shota gives him a brief scan- he seems alright. No obvious injuries. His eyes are red and puffy. It’s no surprise Midoriya had been crying. 

He checks Katsuki next. 

His kid looks shaken up but he’s trying to hide it. The haunted look and shaky hands he’d shoved in his pocket gave Katsuki away. A cluster of blood dotted his shoulder, proof Mitsuki had dug her talons into him. 

Just the thought of that vile woman being anywhere near Katsuki makes him sick.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” the kid grunts, scuffing his toe on the path and glaring a hole in it. 

Midoriya shifts uncomfortably beside him. 

“What is it?” He presses, focusing the intensity of his stare on the green-haired trouble child.

Katsuki shrugs in response, naturally it's Midoriya who quietly admits, “I found him on a rooftop.”

The air stills. 

Shota can’t breathe. Internally, he is panicking. A cold terror grips him. It takes everything within him to keep a neutral look on his face. 

“Let’s get you all checked out, alright?” Hizashi offers. “We can talk after you’ve been checked over.”

Katsuki doesn’t say anything. He’s still glaring at that spot in between his feet. 

“Kacchan?” 

“Sure.”

Shota swallows heavily. This wasn’t Katsuki, this was the version he had hoped they’d never see again. Was Katsuki even happy with them? Shota couldn’t believe he had missed this.

For once, his typically organized logic fails as his mind scrambles itself. 

“It’s going to be alright, kid. We’re not mad at you,” Shota tries to soothe him. 

Katsuki still grimaces, “You’re upset.”

“We care a lot about you. We don’t enjoy seeing you hurt.” Shota explains calmly, ignoring the growing storm of emotions ripping apart his brain. 

Did he think they would do something to him if they were upset? After racking his mixed up mind, Shota doesn’t think they’ve ever been visibly upset in front of Katsuki up until this point. 

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you care for me,” Katsuki bursts out frantically. “Why don’t you just- you know.”

Shota’s heart shatters. 

“They won’t hurt you, Kacchan,” Midoriya murmurs softly. 

He would never hurt Katsuki. Never. How could he ask him this? 

“I care about you because you’re an incredible kid. You’ve been dealt a lot of bad situations in life and I want to keep you safe. You deserve that much,” Shota tells him, although he’s not sure if he’s saying the right words. He’s not known as someone who’s good with this sort of thing. Shota assures him quietly, “I would never lay a hand on you.”

“Neither would I,” Hizashi agrees. “You are a joy to have in our home. We would love for you to stay as long as you’d like. You’re our kid, if you want to be.”

Katsuki finally raises his head to look at them, and that’s when Shota realizes he’s crying. 

“We care about you, kid. We want you to be safe.”

Katsuki jerks his head in acknowledgment. “Okay.”

Shota eyes him hopefully. The kid sniffles, trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible. Whether it's from embarrassment, vulnerability or what, he doesn’t know. Either way, he’s glad the kid is safe. 

“Let's head to Recovery Girl, she can look you over.”

Katsuki shrugs, and Midoriya turns to stare Shota down. 

Hizashi clears his throat. When he speaks, Shota can hear the strain behind his voice, “Midoriya, why don’t you head back to the dorms?”

Katsuki shakes his head fiercely before Hizashi has finished talking.

“No, I want him to stay,” Katsuki insists. His face grows bright red, and Midoriya is staring at him openly with wide eyes. “I-if you want to.”

Midoriya risks a glance at Shota and Hizashi, who gives a tiny nod.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Katsuki looks so relieved, Shota doesn’t protest their decision. They begin to finish the trek to Recovery Girl’s office. Shota keeps checking behind them, making sure Katsuki is still safe and alive.

There were good days and bad days. Shota knew this personally. He tries to remind himself, but it's different when it's your kid. He wanted nothing more than for Katsuki to be happy. 

Hizashi falls into step next to him. 

“He’s okay,” his partner murmurs lowly. 

“I know,” Shota croaks. 

How much longer until he believes it?

“This isn’t too much for you?” Katsuki asks Izuku carefully as they approach Recovery Girl’s office.

Izuku shakes his head. “No. I want to be with you if that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.”

Izuku smiles, “Okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“You’re dramatic,” Katsuki teases, “It’s not that serious.”

Which is the wrong thing to say, Katsuki quickly realizes. Izuku’s face shutters, agony rippling across his eyes. 

“It’s serious, Kacchan. You wanted to do it. You were going to do it.”

He’s not wrong, and Katsuki knows it, but he’s been numb to this sort of thing for a while now. It was bound to happen. He considered killing himself every day for years. To him, it was just another day, another fuck up, another misguided attempt. 

Shota leads them inside of Recovery Girl’s office before Katsuki can figure out how to reply. 

The room is oddly chilled, as most doctor’s offices are. The walls are glaring a headache-inducing shade of brilliant white, and cots line the wall. The room smells like antiseptic and gauze. 

The old lady emerges from her office, scanning them over with a critical eye. She lingers over Katsuki. The claw marks ache on his shoulder.

“Sit down, dear,” she instructs briskly. “I’ll have you patched up in a moment.”

Katsuki plops down on the cot closest to them. The sheets are extra starchy and rough today. He remembers not caring how uncomfortable they were during his three day imprisonment. 

The old hag comes back out of her office, bustling over to force vitamin gummies in his hand.

“Take these, you look much too pale.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes but obeys. The gummies are fruity and sweet, but he feels a tad bit more energized after eating them. Recovery Girl takes the opportunity to look him over.

“Just the scratches then?” She asks.

Katsuki shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”

Recovery Girl plops a quick, wet kiss on his cheek, and he resists the urge to cringe. Fatigue clings to his limbs like glue. He reaches up to find the claw marks gone, leaving smooth skin behind.

It was like it never happened.

“We need to talk about something else,” Shota interrupts his train of thought.

Right, that. The only thing left blocking him from freedom. 

“Well, what’s going on then?” The hag inquires.

Silence fills the room. 

Katsuki suddenly finds the scratchy sheets interesting. He’s not going to say it. Why would he? He would rather they don’t know at all. 

“I found Kacchan on the roof,” Izuku admits. 

The thread count in these sheets must be terrible. It’s not like sheets are overly expensive either. These things are atrocious. 

“I see,” Recovery Girl murmurs. “Well then, all of you can wait outside. I need to speak with Bakugou alone.”

There’s a shuffle of feet and clothing.

“We’ll be right outside if you want us,” Shota says before following the group out the door.

Katsuki doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look up from the sheets tangled between his fingers. These things were always so awkward.

“I need to ask you a few questions,” she begins quietly. “And I need you to be honest with me.”

Katsuki nods.

“Were you planning on hurting yourself?”

Hurting yourself. Why do they ask like that?

“Yeah.”

“What was your plan?”

“What do you think?” He scoffs. “I was on the roof.”

“Did you plan to be there, on the roof?”

“No,” Katsuki blinks, not quite able to remember how he got to the rooftop in the first place. “I don’t know how I got there. But once I was, it was all I could think about.”

The perpetual call of death, the ragged air rushing in and out of his chest, the concrete below screaming for him. 

“Would you have jumped if Izuku didn't find you?” She asks gently, interrupting his train of thought.

Although he knows she has to ask, he hates her all the same for it. Or maybe it’s the truth that hurts worse, the knowledge that Katsuki was once again stopped. 

Katsuki knows what he would have done. He knows what he wants to do, even now. That has never changed for him.

“Yes.”

He finally meets her eyes when he says it. 

“I’m glad Izuku found you in time.”

“That’s what they always say,” he says bitterly. “And then you say it’ll get better.”

Her cane taps on the tile. She scrutinizes him from her post in the corner. 

“We do tell you that a bit, don’t we?”

Katsuki shrugs again.

Recovery Girl frowns thoughtfully. “I don’t say that lightly, Bakugou. I truly believe you can, and will, get better.”

Even if it doesn’t get better, that doesn’t mean you have to die.

“And if it doesn’t?”

She taps her cane again. “What do you mean?”

“If it doesn’t get better, what happens?”

Recovery Girl doesn’t hesitate.

“You keep living. You’ll learn how to manage your mental illness. That doesn’t mean your life will be awful, but you will have to work harder for it,” she explains firmly. “But I believe in you, Bakugou. Your life won’t end while you’re at UA.”

Katsuki remembers Mina’s story, and Izuku’s. They lived. They survived. They were happy.

He didn’t believe things would work out the same for him, but neither had they. 

“I’ll talk with Aizawa about arranging for you to spend your 72 hours under observation at home. Given the circumstances, I can trust them to care for you properly.”

That would be nice. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to go home.

Katsuki falls into silence as she calls his guardians back in. Izuku follows them but beelines straight for him. The adults begin to speak in low voices about what Katsuki said. He can hear everything they’re saying.

“Are you okay, Kacchan?”

“Yeah,” he manages to croak. “I’m good.”

“I’m proud of you,” Izuku smiles warmly. “I know that was hard.”

A bubble of warmth expands in his chest. 

“Shut up, nerd,” Katsuki chides, smothering a small smile.

Izuku notices anyway, and beams. “Sure, Kacchan.”

They don’t say much else. In no time at all, Katsuki is whisked away into the care of his guardians. He still has clothes at home, so there’s no need to pack. 

Izuku hugs him goodbye. 

“Stay safe, Kacchan,” he wishes him tearily. 

“I will,” he agrees. “It’s fine, alright? Maybe you can come over for dinner sometime?”

Katsuki sneaks a glance towards the pair of pros standing by the car. 

“Of course, we’d love to have you over!” Hizashi says. 

“Maybe not tonight-” Shota begins, “However, tomorrow night would be fine.”

“Oh, really?” Izuku brightens immediately. “That would be amazing!”

They haven’t had dinner together in ages. Katsuki always cooked whenever they did, after all, Izuku was terrible in the kitchen. He wouldn’t trust him with a knife. 

He was mostly looking forward to hanging out with Izuku. Like truly, actually hanging out. Convincing your friend off a fucking ledge obviously didn’t count. 

“I’ll see you soon, nerd.”

“Yeah,” Izuku flings his arms around him another time, “I can’t wait.”

The scents of vanilla, pine and sandalwood flood his nose. The lingering tension in his shoulders dissolves. 

“Me too,” he admits. 

When Izuku pulls away for a final time, there’s a red blush lighting up his face. It makes him look kinda cute. You know, objectively. Anyone would say it. 

Why is his own face getting hot?

“On that note,” Hizashi interrupts smoothly. “We should get going. Shota will swing by around four tomorrow to pick you up, Listener.”

“Sounds great!” His best friend chirps. “Bye, Kacchan.”

Katsuki meanders over to the car. 

“See ya, Deku.”

Izuku waves them off from the curb as they drive away. In the rearview mirror, he watches his form get smaller and smaller. 

“I didn’t realize the two of you were so close,” Shota comments mildly. 

“He was there last time,” Katsuki mutters. “We grew up together.”

“That’s true. I suppose I didn’t think too much of it at first. You two always seemed to be at each other’s throats.”

Katsuki is vividly reminded of their last fight. They always managed to work through things eventually, but this time he was actually worried they wouldn’t. Izuku had to get tired of him. He was a lot, this was a lot, and he knew Izuku was struggling with it. 

“Yeah.”

Shota clears his throat, and that’s his first signal his guardian’s are about to broach a serious topic. He knew this shit was coming. 

“Katsuki-” Shota begins to say.

“Whatever it is, just fucking say it. Don’t toe around this shit like you usually do.” 

Katsuki glares at Shota through the rearview mirror. He can’t read anything behind the guarded look in his teacher’s eyes. Was the price of his sentence going to become apparent? 

He regretted it. Fuck, he overstepped. 

“Sure thing, kid.”

Katsuki blinks. “What?”

His guardian shifts, his arm moving upwards, and Katsuki can’t suppress the reaction any more before he realizes what he’s doing. He flinches backward, throwing his arms up to protect his face. 

There’s a moment of long, horrible silence in the car. The only thing Katsuki can hear is the rumble of the engine. The fabric covering the seats scratches his face. 

No one says anything, so Katsuki slowly lowers his arms. 

Shota is stricken with an odd, terrible expression on his face. Hizashi has a hand on Shota’s thigh. There’s a quiet sort of pain in his eyes, like he just watched a puppy get hurt. 

Katsuki hates it. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “Fuck, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s alright, kiddo,” Shota soothes. “It’s not your fault. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you, kid.”

“I know,” he insists desperately. “I'm sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Hizashi joins in. 

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck.”

“It’s been a day for you,” Hizashi comments lightly.

Katsuki resists the urge to punch something. 

No shit. It's not everyday your shitty mom manages to manipulate her way on campus to berate the fuck out of you. Publically. In front of everyone. 

“Yeah, so what?”

The truth is, he’s tired. 

He’s tired of the whole trial thing, even if he never had to show up. He’s tired of the endless memories swarming the edges of his consciousness. He’s tired of feeling this way. He’s tired of false promises. 

So fucking tired. 

“I don’t mean anything by it, Listener,” Hizashi insists evenly. “I just meant it’s understandable if you’re on edge.”

Not Katsuki assuming the worst in people, like always.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Hizashi says, a certain softness lingering in his gaze. “I’m happy you’re safe.”

“So am I,” Shota adds, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. “If you ever feel that way again, you can always talk to us. We’re not going to hurt you. We only want to support you and keep you safe.”

None of this feels real. He rests his head on the cool glass of the window. 

“Okay,” he mutters.

He’s tired. 

Life is life and death is unavailable whenever he tries. Every fucking moment of every day steals another bit of energy. He’s in the hole at this point. 

Katsuki's eyes slip shut. The rumble of the engine lulls him into a trance. The indistinguishable murmur of voices on the radio leads him back to another time. 

Another memory, the sore and overused muscles of his stomach, the lingering drudgery of an overdose, the scratchy hospital blankets knead between his fingers. 

How many more until this is over?

Maybe he wasn’t made to be alive. And this was all some drawn out, convoluted nightmare until the end. He was born from brokenness, hatred and blood. A twisted contraption of want, need and the absence of them. 

But-

But Izuku had said-

Even if it never got better, did he have to die? 

Did he want to live?

It never got better. From the moment Katsuki opened his eyes, his life had been filled with pain. No matter how hard he tried, he never became happy. Nothing he tried ever helped. He only found a new bottom, an even lower low. 

Always scraping the bottom of the barrel, never glimpsing the top. 

Now he had Shota and Hizashi, and Mitsuki still found a way to get to him. The League was still out there, stalking around the shadows. Izuku only just now talked to him, and they could easily fight and ruin it again. 

Was this life worth living?

Inui told him that he should create a life worth living. You can’t build with scraps. Like, Katsuki can only do so much, and if this was all he could accomplish, was it worth the effort?

How many years has he dreamed of death, and he still felt the same? He knew he wouldn’t regret dying. He knew it in his bones. 

Everyone else always swore life got better. Katsuki had yet to see it. Then Izuku, stupid fucking Deku, told him to live anyway. 

Even with all the shit and muck and fear. Live, and keep living, because he might never be fully happy but he could feel okay about life most days. 

That was the goal. 

Was that a life Katsuki deemed worth living?

Chapter Text

The news came in the morning while Hizashi was cooking breakfast and Shota was just beginning to gulp down his first cup of coffee. 

He had returned from his morning jog, kicked off his shoes and shoved the house slippers on his feet. Hizashi was humming along to a song on the radio while Shota sat half asleep at the table. Steam curled up from the full mug in front of him.

“Morning,” he greeted them before grabbing a glass of water and promptly chugging it. 

“Good morning,” Hizashi replied as he stirred the eggs around the pan. “Do you want anything in your eggs this morning?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

Shota still looked half asleep. The caffeine had yet to have any effect. 

“You look tired,” Katsuki remarked as he refilled his glass before plopping down in a chair across from him. 

“Long patrol,” his guardian grumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Some idiot with a mutation quirk decided last night was the perfect time to-”

Katsuki quickly looked up after the words abruptly cut off. Shota was frozen, sitting upright and frantically scanning the screen. A stone dropped in his stomach. The sound of eggs shifting around the pan stilled. 

“Sho?”

The man in question didn’t reply, a stricken expression briefly breaking through his typically stoic mask. 

Was it Mitsuki? Was it Deku? Was someone hurt, killed or worse?

Katsuki’s mouth was as dry as a desert. 

“Shota,” Hizashi asked again.

This time, the man listened. But he didn’t look at his husband. He looked straight at Katsuki.

“Katsuki,” Shota began, and he felt the blood freeze inside of his veins, “Hawks caught Toga early this morning.”

“What, cat got your tongue?”

“What did you say?” 

The words wavered into indistinguishable sounds around him. He could hear her laughter, clear as day, hear her voice whispering in his ear, could feel the touch of her fingers, the slice of her knife. 

“I like you better when you scream.” “Aw, why won’t you join us? We could have fun all the time!” “Mmmm, your blood is delicious. I want to keep you forever, Kacchan.”

“Kid?”

“Ya’know, I was talking with Dabi yesterday,” she paused, giggling and giddy. “You should stay. We agreed. You’d be our best friend!”

“Let me go home,” he rasped painfully. “Please.”

Toga grinned viciously. “Home? What do you mean, Kacchan? You are home!”

She leaned forward, putting her lips right next to his ear, so close he could feel her warm breath on his neck, every vulnerability flashing before his eyes. 

“You belong with us.”

“Katsuki? What are you thinking?”

The cell felt warmer than before. Although the cement was still cool there was a warmth to the damp stale air that he hadn’t felt in a while. 

Toga had entered the small room in silence, her eyes never once dancing over his slumped figure. No smiles, no laughs, no excited brutality. 

The stillness unnerved him. 

He didn’t speak, watching her every move. She wandered around, inspecting the chains but avoiding his eyes, tracing fingertips over rough grooves and cracks, until she finally pulled a thin blade from her pocket, turning it over in her hands. 

“I used to sit in the trees outside of your yard and watch you,” she began, flipping the knife once more before tucking it away. “We all did. We took turns figuring out how you spent your days, where you went and what you did. And when. Shiggy was insistent that we track the times you left.”

She sounded more lucid than Katsuki pictured she could be. She spoke quietly, like she was afraid someone might overhear, but firmly, all the while avoiding his gaze like it was toxic. 

Toga was nervous. 

Hesitation bled from every nervous tap of her fingers or glance to the door. He had never seen her like this. 

For a wild moment, he imagined the heroes bursting through the door. All Might proclaiming his arrival to the shocked villains, then the team would come crashing through around him and all the villains would lose. 

He’d be safe.

(Was he safe with Mitsuki? Safer than this?)

“I saw how she treated you. There were a couple times I wanted to step in but Shiggy said no. And he’s all I have, so…” Toga trailed off, staring at the opposing wall like it held all of the answers. “My parents were shitty, too. They never let me feed when my quirk required it, and after my quirk came in I was a sickly kid. 

“My classmates would call me a villain, just like yours. Always whispering about dumb shit and how I would end up killing them. I tried to fit in, I tried to be nice, but they never liked me. I was a monster.”

Katsuki was the monster she created, the devil spawn, the shadow in the night. He was destined to hurt people and the only way to avoid that was to die. He knew this, she knew this, and everyone he ever met knew it too. 

He was a villain.

Something wet and shiny grew in the corners of her eyes. She quickly brushed it away. 

Toga sighed, “And I agreed with them.”

Crying. Toga was crying. 

Toga cried like you’d imagine pretty girls in movies to cry. Soft, quiet, and every ounce of innocence and hurt that a person could be. 

Toga cried and Katsuki wanted to cry with her. 

“If you stay here, we’ll save you. She can’t hurt you again. And yeah, people will still call you a monster, but they’ll always hate people like us,” Toga whirled around to face him, desperation filling her gaze, and like a black hole he was sucked in. “We can be friends, and we can do everything together, and I’ll only make you bleed sometimes because Dabi says people don’t like it even though I do-”

“I can’t,” Katsuki said, surprising himself.

Toga reeled back as if he had hit her, quickly blinking the shreds of tears away. 

Silence fell heavy over the cell. 

“Oh,” she looked down at her bloodied hands. When she raised her head, he could only see Toga the villain. Toga the person had disappeared again.

She smirked nastily, quickly morphing into a sneer.

“You want to be a hero. You want to save people,” she mocked him, rolling her eyes. “They’ll kill you. As soon as you fuck up, hero, they’ll feed you to the wolves. Don’t pretend like you’re better than us. I know what you did. I know who you are. 

“Go back to your mother who clearly fucking loves you. Do you really, honestly believe that you’re still better than us? You’re a villain, with a villain quirk just like the rest of us.”

It’s not like she was wrong. 

Katsuki thought about Deku, reaching with broken arms towards an unknown portal, ready to face Dabi’s fire with no quirk left to give, no more strength to fight. He thought of Kirishima, smiling and charging ahead with no hint of villainy ever crossing his mind. He thought of Todoroki, standing strong against his shitty father, letting nothing come in between him and a good heart. 

But mainly, he remembers what he has done. 

“If they do,” he said, rustling the chains as he flexed his sore and stiff muscles, “I’ll let them kill me. I know what I deserve.”

Toga scoffed, “You were a kid, just like I was. We didn’t deserve shit! They hurt us, and now they want to keep hurting us but they get pissed off when we fight back? That’s who you want to defend?

“God, you’re pathetic. Just a brainwashed loser who prefers to feel the sting of the knife rather than be the one holding it. I’ll tell Shiggy what you said. But first-” The thin knife reemerged from the sheath, spinning around her fingers with practiced ease. A slow, deranged smile began to split her face. “I’ll make you bleed.”

Katsuki blinked away the flood of memories. 

The thick, heavy scent of blood clogged his nose. The apartment was dissolving into the cement room. He was here, he was there, he was nowhere and everywhere in between.

“She’s locked up?”

“Yes-”

“I can’t say I’m a fan of your room,” Toga chirped before nicking another gash in his arm. 

He hardly winced. There was more to come. Worse, he imagined. This was merely the warm up. The opening act of cuts and blood and pain. “It’s too small.”

“-Hawks caught her-”

“My parents had a cage for me, smaller than this one! I hated it so much, but they never listened to me. Apparently it was necessary because I was a ‘hazard’ and a ‘villain’. Villains belong in cages, after all!” Toga giggled, tossing the knife carelessly behind her. “Now where were we?”

“Tartarus, probably. Detective Tsukauchi would like to speak-”

If he didn’t have Izuku, Katsuki would probably end up a villain. He and Toga would’ve been friends in another life, hitting it off with their shitty backgrounds. If he had no one, he would’ve ended up just like her. 

A villain. 

Just like me, Kacchan!

She was a monster. She hurt people because-

Blood makes me crazy. If I smell it when I haven’t fed in a while my head goes blank and I go into a blood frenzy. I can’t really remember what happens-

He was a monster. He lashed out at people and hurt them without understanding why-

Do you wanna be friends?

Fuck. Fuck, he had done awful things-

I’ll make you bleed.

Katsuki lurches back awkwardly. 

“Kid?”

“I’m glad they got her,” he instinctively lies through his teeth.

Hizashi and Shota share a disbelieving glance. 

Of course he wasn’t okay. Anyone with eyes would be able to tell. Katsuki didn’t know why he lied, he could have easily admitted that Toga’s arrest bothered him. 

“If you’re not,” Hizashi begins evenly, “That’s okay too.”

Here it was. The opportunity to open up, to admit this shred of weakness to them. 

“No,” He interrupted quickly. Too quickly. “I’m fine.”

Katsuki wasn’t good at second chances. Or thirds. Or fourths. 

He could handle this anyway. Shota and Hizashi didn’t need to know every single thought in his head. He was fine.

Things have been hard lately. That’s all.

“Hard? Don’t give me your fucking excuses, Katsuki,” Mistuki snarled. 

Sometimes life was like climbing up a muddy slope. You only make it so far before you slip right back to where you began. And you can only learn so many ways to make it further before you’re slipping back down. 

He was always at the bottom, always slipping further and further down the hill. 

“I’m going to my room,” he announced abruptly. 

She was always there. Devil eyes and sinister smiles. Watching him, whispering to him, poisoning the air he breathed. 

Until the day he finally fucking died, Mitsuki would be with him. 

“Actually,” Hizashi cut in, wincing. “We can’t leave you alone during these three days. You can leave the door open, but-”

Of course, that’s right, he was a danger to himself. Can’t leave the mentally unstable freak show by itself, it’ll self-destruct! 

“I’ll go to the couch, then,” he grumbled. 

Hizashi smiled weakly. “Of course, want to put a movie on?”

Katsuki hesitated. Was it the worst thing to want to think about everything for a while? Should he try and refuse his guardian in his own home?

“Uh-”

“‘Zashi, give the kid some space,” Shota set down his coffee mug, looking pointedly at his sunshine and rainbows partner. “We can easily keep an eye on him from here, and he’ll still get to have some semblance of independence.”

Hizashi frowned, “Alright, I suppose. Are you sure you’re alright, kiddo?”

“Yes,” Katsuki insists again, drawing up another stab of guilt right through his chest. 

“Let us know if you need anything,” Hizashi offers hopefully. 

Katsuki tries to smile but it doesn’t feel quite right on his face. He slips away before he can even begin to see what their reactions will say. 

“Some days I wish those villains killed you.”

He did too. 

Katsuki spends a couple hours on the couch, sprawled out on his back and staring at the ceiling. 

Sometimes he can hear Hizashi whisper worriedly to Shota, but they never enter the room to approach him. Occasionally they’ll check in, and he’ll give some sort of acceptable response, but for the majority of the time he’s alone. 

“I love you, Katsuki,” Mitsuki laughed, a smile crinkling her eyes, a soft hand ruffling his hair. 

Katsuki was six when he first wondered whether Mitsuki loved him or not. 

The words sounded wrong coming from her mouth, but she had been on a good upswing those past couple days. She had taken him out for ice cream earlier. They had wandered around the park, picking flowers and enjoying the warm spring sunshine. 

When they finally arrived home hours later, Mitsuki pulled out a couple of her favorite books, and she showed him how to press the blooms between the pages to preserve them. 

“Now we can keep them forever and ever and ever,” she told him. She reached over to tap his nose. “I’ll always remember this day, Katsu.”

Later, after Mitsuki had drowned her blood in vodka and marked his own face with it, he wondered what parts of the day were lies and truth. 

Did ‘I love you’ lead to violence? Was the price of a mother’s love stacked in bruises and broken bones? Why didn’t she love him like Auntie Inko loved Izuku?

Did Toga also have a mother who loved violently? Who locked her away for protection, for punishment? Was a villain a bad person, or someone who had been hurt for so long they only learned to bite?

He bit. He snarled and yelled and bit. He was born to kill or be killed, and it's the only way he knew how to be. 

Toga bit. Toga snarled and yelled and bit. Toga grew up in a survive or die mentality, and it's the only way she knew how to be. 

But she hurt him. She mutilated him in such a violent, intimate way that he wasn’t sure he would ever be the same. She tore him to pieces and smushed him back together all wrong. 

Now she was locked up, caged just like when she was a child, and what would that do? He was safe, apparently, and now he was supposed to be relieved and happy. 

Why wasn’t he happy?

She deserved it. She deserved to be tortured just like he had, she deserved to be locked away forever, she deserved to die. 

He hated her. 

He hated her laugh. He hated her smile. He hated her eyes. He hated Toga and everything that was Toga, he hated her friends, he hated the League, he hated that room, he hated her fucking knives.

Katsuki burned hot with boiling rage, a deep seated hatred that churned under the fear. 

He would kill her, if he could. He knew he would. He imagined how it would go sometimes. 

Did that make him a villain?

“Do you wanna be friends?”

“Katsuki?” 

He lifts his head. 

Shota was standing in the entryway, half in the kitchen. He was studying Katsuki closely. 

“Yeah?” 

“Everything going alright?” Shota pressed, a crease forming between his brows. 

Before he could reply, Hizashi peered around Shota, shooting him a beaming smile.

“I made some tea, if you’d like some?”

Katsuki pushed himself into an upright position. 

They would know about these things, wouldn’t they? As pro heroes, they were experts in determining someone’s villainy. Maybe they could explain why he was feeling so weird about this thing with Toga. Or why he still wanted his mom, after everything. 

“Sure.”

Hizashi disappeared into the kitchen. Shota remained, lingering at the edge of the room.

“Is it alright if I sit down?” He asked.

Katsuki’s face burned. He was occupying their living room, taking up a shit ton of space that they were entitled to.

“Yeah, sure,” he rushed to say.

Shota meandered over to the armchair. “How are you doing, kid?”

He shrugged in lieu of a verbal response. His brain felt more twisted and confused than when he first laid down. All of this thinking had only led to more questions. 

This entire situation made even less sense now. 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Shota asked as Hizashi entered with the tea. 

“I can pop out if you’d like some privacy,” Hizashi offered. 

“No, it's fine,” he insisted. 

Hizashi smiled softly as he sat down and passed out the mugs. “Sure thing, Listener. Just say the word and I’ll leave.”

He hesitated for too long, trying to figure out how to say it all. Toga, Mitsuki and villainy. Where did he fit in with them? 

“How are you feeling about the news this morning?” Shota prompted.

Thank god he didn’t have to bring it up.

He habitually ran his tongue over the backs of his teeth. Still there.

“I just wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off uselessly. Hizashi and Shota share a concerned glance. “I didn’t realize I’d be, um, so mixed up about it.”

“Do you want us to call Inui and see if he can see you today?” Hizashi asks worriedly.

“No,” Katsuki says, surprising himself. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Let us know if that changes,” Shota says. “There’s no shame in admitting you need help.”

“I know,” he said, even though he had never once reached out for help. And he didn’t quite plan to. “What- why do you think she did those things?”

“Why did she hurt you?” Shota clarified, and at Katsuki’s nod, he continued, “I’m not sure. Villains have many reasons for making those choices. Did she say something to you?”

“Yeah,” Katsuki admitted. “She told me about how she grew up once, and I- well, I guess- why do people become villains?”

He spat the question quickly, before he lost confidence. The question makes him feel small. 

His guardians blanched. 

“Why do people become villains?” Hizashi repeated, frowning slightly. “That’s a tricky question.”

He doesn’t miss the loud hero sneakily glancing over at Shota. 

Shota smoothly begins to explain, “Some people repeatedly get put in bad situations and feel like villainy is their only way out. Others suffer from mental illnesses and aren’t able to get the help they need. There are many reasons a person could be led to make bad choices, and part of our job as heroes is to get villains the help they may need.”

“What if locking them up won’t help them?”

Shota hesitates, brows furrowing as he focuses on Katsuki more intently. “Are you asking about Toga?”

Toga. 

“C’mon, Kacchan, you had this coming. You love to talk so fucking much.”

His teeth are glued together. His tongue feels heavy and useless in his mouth. Suddenly, Katsuki is terrified he’ll choke on it. 

“Breathe in, breathe out,” Inui instructs calmly. 

Breathe in, breathe out. His mouth is a cage, locked shut. Breathe in, breathe out. His lungs constrict and swell, closing shut and suffocating him. Breathe in, breathe out. 

He was a fucking idiot. 

Think about anything else. Think about warm chocolate chip cookies, about the post workout high, about movie nights with his guardians. Think about Izuku.

Katsuki finally meets their gaze and nods. 

Hizashi smiles warmly, a glimmer of pride shining on his face. “I’m proud of you for using your breathing methods, Katsuki. We can take a break if you’d like, or we can continue.”

Something melts inside of him, and he fights the embarrassed blush threatening to heat his face. 

“S’ fine,” he mumbles. “I just needed a fucking second.”

Fucking idiot. Freaking out over a stupid name. You’d think after all this therapy he’d be able to take it. 

Shota sets his mug on the table. “Did she say anything to you that led you to believe she wouldn’t get help?” 

Katsuki shrugs uselessly.  

What didn’t the devil say? He knew his hatred towards her was justified. He knew he wanted her dead, as awful as that sounds. But there was a part of him that pitied her and where she came from. 

Katsuki understood dark cages and abandonment. He lived through the bruises, harsh words and thrown bottles. His heart ached for that hurting, scared child she had been; his own reaching out in sympathy. 

“She was like me,” is all he could say. 

Shota leaned back, a flicker of something crossing his dark eyes. Hizashi had turned towards his husband, and Katsuki wasn’t sure if he wanted to snatch the words back or explain any further.

“Ah,” Shota ended up replying while Hizashi hummed. 

What was that supposed to mean? He scowled internally.

(They see you now. They know what you are.) 

Katsuki swore he could hear Toga giggling behind him. 

“Listener-” Hizashi paused before sucking in a breath, “Katsuki. I can’t tell you I know why people make the choices they do, or why they felt the need to inflict their internal pain on others, but you are not Toga. You’re kind, and thoughtful, and one day you will be an incredible hero. 

“Toga needs help. She is a complicated person with a complicated past. Even if you share similar beginnings, that doesn’t dictate how yours will end. You are not Toga. You’re Bakugou Katsuki, first year hero student at UA, and top of your class.”

“She's scared of being locked away,” Katsuki begged hollowly. “She- I don’t know why, I fucking hate her, and I’m glad she's there, but…”

His thoughts die halfway from his mind to his mouth. 

Hizashi grimaces, ready to continue until Shota gently places a hand on his husband’s thigh. 

Dark eyes drill into his, “You feel sorry for her.”

Shame is a nasty beast. It curls against your legs, nips your heels, and follows you wherever you go. He had tried to wrestle with it in vain but it still lingered.

“Does that make me a bad person?” 

For once, he bore his sins to them, opening his walls to show his weakness, the vulnerable underbelly ready to be gouged open. 

“No.”

No. No? No, he wasn’t? 

Katsuki frowned, glaring hotly at the man he trusted, who swore to never lie to him. 

“No? How can you say that? She’s a villain! She fucking tortured me for days and I feel bad for her?” He demands fiercely, “You don’t need to lie to me because of what happened yesterday. Tell me the truth. I can take it.”

“He’s not lying,” the blonde hero insists gently. “I have met many, many villains in my career. And I felt bad for most of them. I wished they had better opportunities, or had gotten access to the right resources they needed before they made certain choices.”

“So have I,” Shota added. “I’m not lying to you, Katsuki. I believe in the potential hero you will become, but more importantly, I believe in the hero you are today. We all make mistakes, and we’ll continue to make them, but it’s how we handle those errors and forge onward to become the best versions of ourselves that matters. That’s what makes a hero. The willingness to save others, and the nonstop pursuit to stop people who want to harm them.

“You are a hero, Katsuki. In a way, feeling bad for Toga means you're a hero. You want to save her, you want her to be better. But, you recognize that she has done wrong and this is best for her.”

“I don’t know that this is the best,” he admits. “What if she- what if she never gets better? What if she only gets worse?”

What if I only get worse?

“What if she gets better?” Shota challenges. 

He shifts nervously. He had a feeling no matter who Toga became, he would hate her regardless. Even if she tried to apologize for what she did, he would dream of killing her.

“I hate her,” he whispers aggressively, fighting through a sea of shame and rage, “I’ll always hate her.”

“So will I,” Shota agreed bluntly.

Katsuki reeled back, whipping his head towards the man so quickly his brain rattled in his skull. 

“What?”

“I hate her,” Shota reiterated. “I despise her for what she did to you. Some part of me always will, even if she does strive to be a better person.”

Hizashi nodded grimly. “For the record, I agree with Sho.” 

Katsuki’s jaw fell. “But you’re heroes.”

Shota shrugged. “We are. We’re also human, just like you.”

“You’re allowed to not like people, even hate them, especially when they hurt you,” Hizashi explains. “Your feelings are valid and normal. It’s what you do with that anger that defines you. Do you take it and hurt others or get revenge? Or do you still try to save them?”

For a moment, Katsuki was silent. 

“What if I don’t want her to get better?”

“Well, do you want to hurt her?” Shota asked. Katsuki opened his mouth to respond when he held a hand up, “Let me clarify before you answer. Are you going to hurt her?”

Would he? Katsuki thought about killing her. He wanted her dead. He wanted her to feel what he felt in that room. 

But for all that resentment coiled up inside of him, he can’t picture himself going through with any of it. 

“No, I can’t.”

“And why is that?” Shota drawled. 

Katsuki sighed through his nose. “I couldn’t do it. I know what it feels like. I don’t think I could do that to someone else, even if they deserve it.”

“That's what makes you a hero, Katsuki. Believe me when I say Hizashi and I believe you will be a great hero, and we are proud to be your teachers.” Tears shone in the quiet man’s eyes, and Hizashi nodded along as Shota spoke, “Most of all, we are proud to be called your guardians.”

His cheeks were wet. A timid, small bit of warmth kindled in his chest. For all of his flaws, they still wanted him? Even after he admitted he pitied the same devil who ripped his tongue from his mouth? 

“Why?” He croaked, the thick feeling of tears squeezing the words from his throat. “I- I fucking told you-”

“You told us you felt bad for someone in need of help, even after they did unspeakable things to you. I can think of nothing more heroic than that,” Hizashi insisted fiercely. “I see you as my own son, Katsuki. I’ll love you no matter what. We both do.”

Shota nodded firmly, causing Katsuki to cry harder. 

They were fools to believe in him. Foolish idiots to care for him. He was weak, he was going to hurt people. How could they not understand that?

“I’m not a good person,” he tried to explain to them. 

“Nothing you’ve said or done has ever led me to think that,” Shota said. “You are a good person. I’m a pro hero, and so is Hizashi. Do you believe we have good judgments of good and bad?”

Katsuki hesitated. On one hand, he trusted their judgment. But, did he trust them not to lie to him? How was he supposed to know when people were lying or telling the truth? 

Mitsuki screamed at him for years, pointing out all of his flaws and shortcomings. He knew what kind of person he was and wasn’t. He tried to do good, but did that make him a good person? A few good deeds don’t excuse the bad. 

“Yeah, I believe you, but-” Katsuki began to pick at the skin around his fingernails. He was the bug under the microscope, plain and easy to see. There was no more hiding. “What if I’m more of a villain than a hero?” 

“Why are you convinced you’re a villain?” Hizashi asked with a small frown. 

He shrugged. 

“Was it your mother?” 

Katsuki glared at the floor. 

“Ah,” Shota commented. “Katsuki-”

“I know she’s not a good person,” he hissed, “But I can’t help it. I try to be good but it feels like I fail every time.”

“I won’t be misguided and believe I can change your mind today, or this week, or maybe even this month,” Shota said. “But I know that you are a good person. No one is perfect, but you are good. You are a hero. One day, I hope you will believe us when we say that.”

Katsuki said nothing, because what else could he say?

“You are our kid,” Shota continued softly, “and we love you. Hero or villain, which I may add you’re not, we will love you.”

Fucking sappy heroes and their sappy words. With blurry vision, he struggled to keep himself together, swiping at his watery eyes. 

A few months ago, he never would have believed anyone would want him in their home. Much less claim him as their own. But these two idiot heroes knew him. They saw him at his lowest and still wanted him. 

Him, the would be villain recruit of the League. The kid whose own mother hurt and discarded him. They knew all of it and still wanted him. 

“I would really like to hug you right now,” Hizashi admitted gently. “But I understand if you’re uncomfortable with-”

Katsuki surged forward, colliding with the both of them in the most violently happy hug they’d probably ever experienced. 

They took it with stride; two sets of strong, warm arms wrapping around him. Tears still ran down his face, wetting what he thought was Shota’s shoulder. A warm hand moved comfortingly on his back. 

Katsuki couldn’t recall ever feeling this way, ever having this amount of love and care. It was foreign, so foreign he wasn’t entirely sure if this was happiness or comfort or safety. Maybe it was some mixture of them all, but this is what Izuku said it felt like.

Light, warm and relaxing.  

He closed his eyes and soaked it all in. If only Mitsuki could’ve been like this, happy and motherly. If only she never hurt him.

But here he was. Loved by these two pro heroes who took one look at the mess Mitsuki and Toga had made of him, and took him in anyway. 

Was this a life worth living?

Izuku arrived a couple hours later, after Katsuki insisted again and again they shouldn’t cancel. He was fine; more fine than he had been in a long, long while. Ya know, as fine as someone can be after they tried to off themselves the day before. 

Besides, they had finally begun to repair the damage caused by their most recent fight. 

Katsuki would hate to lose it. More than that, he needed to see Izuku. 

Hizashi helped Katsuki make the nerd’s favorite dish as Shota watched the evening news before his patrol tonight. He would leave a little while after dinner and return in the early morning. 

The doorbell rang right on time. Katsuki rushed over and flung the door open to reveal a nervous looking Izuku standing next to their stern security guard, Sasuki. 

The nerd’s face lit up like fireworks as soon as the door opened.

“Kacchan!”

“Hey nerd,” Katsuki greeted with a smile. He cocked his head at the guard. “Didn’t Hizashi say he was coming?”

Sasuki grunted, eyeing Izuku cautiously. “I don’t trust him.”

Katsuki frowned, “Hizashi?”

“No,” Sasuki jerked his head towards the green-haired idiot. “Him.”

“He’s harmless,” he waved the guard’s concerns off with a wave of his hand.

Izuku blushed, staring down at his obnoxiously red shoes. 

“Maybe,” Sasuki agreed, continuing to squint suspiciously at Izuku. “There’s something about him…”

He rolled his eyes. “C’mon in, nerd.”

Izuku stepped around Sasuki to enter the apartment. He turned around to wave at the guard, “Thank you!”

“Hmph,” Sasuki grunted. He turned around and stalked back towards the stairs as the door closed.

“Listener!” Hizashi cried from the kitchen. “Welcome! We have guest slippers by the door. The food is almost ready. Katsuki, do you want to show him around?”

“I got it!” Katsuki yelled back. 

Izuku chucked his shoes off and put them on the rack. “So this is where you’re living now?”

“Yup.”

Izuku scanned the entryway. “It looks nice.”

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re pretty nice too.”

“That’s good.”

Katsuki led him further in, greeting Hizashi as they passed the kitchen. Shota was still on the couch, tired eyes glued to the weatherman as he predicted the next couple days.

“Hi, sensei!” Izuku chirped.

Shota blinked tiredly towards them. “Good to see you, Midoriya. Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Izuku chirps politely, sneaking a mischievous glance towards him. “I’m happy Kacchan is safe.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbled as his cheeks warmed. 

Izuku rolled his eyes. 

Shota sighed, waving them off with a dismissive hand. “Don’t destroy the place.”

“I’ll be here, Shota!” Hizashi cried from the kitchen. 

The darker haired man grunted, eyeing the direction Hizashi’s voice had come from. 

“That’s what worries me,” he muttered, shooting the two teenagers a warning glare. “If the place is still intact when I return, I’ll consider it a win.”

Katsuki leads Izuku away to his room before they can receive more of a lecture.

“Where’s sensei going?” Izuku asks after they settle into his room. 

“Patrol.”

“Oh, gotcha.” Izuku inspects his bedroom, eyeing the gray ball of fluff curled up on his pillow. He blinks owlishly, “Sensei has a cat?”

Katsuki flops down on the bed. “That’s Jelly. She’s sweet.”

“Huh, he does seem like a cat person. I can’t imagine Sensei with a dog, but Yamada-sensei seems like the dog type. A cat does fit Aizawa-sensei’s personality, but I would’ve thought-”

“Oi!” Katsuki cuts him off from his rambling. “It’s a cat, Deku. Chill.”

Izuku turns a bright shade of pink, sputtering some half thought out reply that he’s only half listening to.

The nerd is blushing. And fuck, his heart is doing some weird dance in his chest. 

“I like your room!” He blurts out. 

Katsuki is quickly torn away from thinking any further on it. “Thanks,” he says. He reaches out to scratch Jelly under his chin, drawing a rumbling purr from her throat. 

Izuku bites his lip and begins to fiddle with his fingers. “Um, how are you?”

“‘Bout as well as I can be, I guess,” Katsuki admits. “Did you hear the news?”

Izuku frowns, “What news?”

The fucking evil incarnate was taken into custody. That bitch is locked away. The crazy psycho is behind bars. 

So many different ways he could have said it, and instead what comes out of his mouth is, “Erm, they, I mean- uh…”

Izuku leans closer, placing a hand on his knee as his brows furrow, “Kats, are you having a stroke?”

“I- what the fuck? No! They got her.”

Confused, he asks, “Who? Like, they sentenced your mom?”

And suddenly Katsuki realizes Izuku has no idea what happened during those three days the League kidnapped him. 

It's not like this sort of thing just comes up in casual conversation. They had been fighting for a while and he’d never really had the chance to tell anyone outside of his guardians and therapist. Izuku had no idea what the she-devil had done. 

“Fuck,” Katsuki curses. 

“What’s going on?”

There’s two choices here. He could tell Izuku what happened or some brief version of it. He could also ignore the entire thing and try to move past this. 

He barely managed to recently share what happened to him with his guardians and Inui. Talking about this was about as easy as pulling teeth. 

But this was Izuku, his best friend since childhood. They had literally known each other since they were in diapers. If he could tell his guardians, who he had only known for a couple months, he could tell Izuku.