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Let's Dance to the Joy Division

Chapter Text

Fuck them. 


Katsuki scratches his wrists, tugs at his hair painfully, stomps his feet hard and squeezes his hand between his closet doors. 


He furiously scrubs away the tears he feels in his eyes, but they just keep coming. Frustration dances in his chest, anger takes hold of his body. 


Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them fuck them fuckthem fuckthemfuckthemfuckthemfuckthem. 


Screw the adults who he's supposed to go to for support. Fuck them. They can't understand, no matter how much they repeat, " I do, but–". There is no BUT. 


So what if he's different? So what if he reacts to anger and stress differently than others? Why does his mother think that everyone is the same? 


He stomps his feet again, desperate for release. Release from what, he doesn't know. Desperation? Rage? Sadness? Anxiety? The lines tangle and knot together. 


From downstairs, Mitsuki screams at him to quiet down. He purposefully hits his wall, stomps his feet again and lets out a raw scream, “ Fuck you!


He can hear her running up the stairs. For fuck's sake. He wants to be alone. Why does she get to scream at him but he doesn't? 


Her steps thunder down the hallway, coming closer to his door. He realized his 'mistake'. He wants to be alone. He quickly runs over to his door and holds it shut (fuck, he should have gotten locks) . But even then, she's stronger than him. She always will be. Fuck her. 


She slams the door open and sends him stumbling back. His skin is scratched roughly by the metal knob and he pulls his arm back to himself. 


His mom looks at him with annoyance and anger. "Watch your mouth, you fucking brat!" She yells and steps closer. She towers over him, glaring at him with so much venom. "Learn respect or so help me God, I'll fucking beat your ass! And quiet down, for fuck's sake! I can hear you crying from all the way in the kitchen!" 


Annoyance and something else laces itself around his mind and Katsuki desperately tries to push her away. Hesitantly touching, but getting in her space in hopes she'd move. 


She doesn't. 


He grabs her arms and tries pushing her back out his door. "Leave!" He shouts with a hoarse throat. "Leave me alone! Go away!" 


"Don't fucking shove me!" She roughly pushes him off her, walking more into his room. He's stomping his feet again ( go away go away go away ) and tries pushing her back out again. This time, she holds him by the wrist and sinks his nails in deep. "I said," She hisses loudly, "Don't fucking shove me." 


A sob unexpectedly rips out from his throat. It takes him by surprise, unaware of the river on his cheeks as more and more sobs and wails come out. 


"Get out!" He all but screams, pointing at the door desperately. He continues stomping his feet. He rips his arm away from her. "Get out! Get out! Leave me alone! Get out!


There's another screaming match between the two. He counts. It lasts five minutes before she finally does leave. She makes sure to slam the door. Loudly. He glares at the chipped wood. The tears won't stop coming. 


His breathing is erratic, and his chest hurts and his head is spinning and suddenly the lights are too bright and he falls back on his bed and shoves his face into his pillow. 


He cries. He cries, a lot. He sobs, he wails and screams. Pathetic. He's cursing anyone and everyone, he's cursing himself. He unknowingly listens to the voice in his head. His subconscious pays attention to every little word, and commits them to memory. 


Look, you're acting like a baby. Fuck, you suck. 


How fucked up are you in the head? Even your own parents say that you have a mental illness. 


What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you overreact to everything? 


What's your problem? 


Katsuki doesn't know how long he stays there. It's probably been an hour. His cries have turned to hiccups, his curses to pleads. At one point, he starts laughing. His shoulders shake and then his entire body. His eyes burn, so puffy and red and he smiles. He smiles and cries and his face is sticky and gross and covered in snot but he can't stop laughing because haha! Everyone's right! You have a problem! 


It's all so funny! He's bled his heart out, crying for someone, begging to be understood but he's ignored! He always will be! It's so hilarious. 


"Fuck," He snorts. 


His skin itches. He scratches at his skin again, scratches and scratches until he realizes that he's bleeding. His fingers are red. He smiles. 


Fuck them. 

Chapter Text

The thing about his anger, is that it builds up over time. 


The smallest of things could annoy him. He was easily irritated, that was a known fact. 


Example: He could hear Mineta chewing gum today during class. While he wasn't.. loud or obnoxious or anything, he could still hear it from where he sat. The thing was that– literally nothing was wrong with it. The noise just pissed him off. 


So that was added to his.. basket of annoyance, if you will. 


And then more things would occur; Aoyama wouldn't stop asking the dumbest questions in class, Kaminari and Ashido wouldn't stop fooling around during break, Aizawa would only look at him with a look of pure exhaustion and disappointment and he hated the sound of people laughing, cheering and screaming every day during lunch time. 


 Those would be added to the basket, too. 


And then something else would happen. But the thing is that there'd be no more space left in the basket. So when he, metaphorically tries placing it in the basket, his quirk goes haywire and he explodes. 


He’s screaming and snarling at anyone. He’s just- he’s mad. Tired. Annoyed. His brain practically doesn't work at those moments. Well, not rationally at least. It's instinct when he throws his middle finger up at anyone who dares look at him wrong. 


And then, when he's alone, he breaks. The foundations, the walls; they all fall. Brick by brick. They touch the ground, and they disappear in clouds of dust. His knees always threaten to give out and his chest tightens painfully and the voice won't stop murmuring into his conscious and where is he someone's tapping their pencil someone's talking where– 


"Bakugou! Can you tell me what's wrong with this sentence?" 


Red eyes snap upwards and suddenly everyone's staring at him. Or at least, it feels like it. Some barely glanced in his direction when Present Mic called his name, while some others are scribbling away in their notebook or facing the board. 


Katsuki looks at what the teacher is pointing at and his heart slows down. Class, he's in English class. Surrounded by morons. The usual. Everything's all good. 


Are these people that stupid or is Present Mic just.. giving us a review or some shit? 


"It should be "The boy drank too much coffee yesterday," and not "The boy drink too much coffee yesterday." 


"Good," Present Mic grins. Katsuki doesn't understand why he seems impressed– the question was easy as shit. "And why?" 


"Past tense." Is all he answers. Lame. Present Mic seems to take that as an answer. Class goes on. The teacher kept picking on Kaminari good naturedly, since he was doodling in his notebook and dozing off. The bell rings. Everyone gets up, ready to go to lunch. Present Mic calls him to his desk. 


"What is it?" He asks, not quite rude but not exactly polite either. Present Mic doesn't seem to mind, or care at all. "Are you okay?" He asks instead. 


"Huh?" Katsuki looks at him, confused. His brows furrow. 


"You looked tired, earlier." The cockatoo wannabe answers, "Are you alright?" 


He blinks. Once. Twice. His brain decides to leave him hanging. His mouth doesn't work accordingly. He shoves his hands in his pockets and fiddles with a loose string in there. 


"I'm fine." He says. Present Mic looks as if he doesn't believe him. It's okay. He can't believe himself either.


"If you're sure," He nods. "You can head off to lunch now." 


Katsuki walks away. Present Mic's eyes follow him until he's out of the classroom. 



He always dredges the end of the day. While everyone's smiling and laughing as they sit in their parents' car and board the train, Katsuki can't do nothing but hope to ward off the anxiety of going back home. 


He doesn't have a safe space, not really. His mom always yells at him for the most inconvenient things and his dad.. well, he doesn't know what he's up to anymore. He barely comes home throughout the week and only stops by on Sunday and Monday. But even then, he only barely glances at them, forces a smile and hides away in his office until the day ends and he leaves. Maybe he's cheating. Nobody in his family can bring themselves to care, and that's the worst part. 


He opens the door, fists opening and closing as he takes off his shoe and replaces them with slippers. His mom is in the kitchen. "How was your day?" She asks. He knows that she's trying, not that she's genuinely curious about his day. She's trying to prove herself as a good person. She always tries to. 


He pointedly ignores her and walks past her to the stairs. He's had a bad day, and he knows that they'll somehow delve into another argument, something that he doesn't want. So he does them both a favor and doesn't speak. 


Mitsuki huffs and he hears her mutter, "Whatever, you shit ass brat." 


The words sting, but not that much. He's used to it. He walks up the stairs, unaware of the sound he's making until he hears her slap the wall loudly. "Quit stomping up the stairs!" She yells, "You're going to break them!" 


He grits his teeth and pretends that he didn't hear her. He opens his door and hears a faint, "fucking piece of shit" from downstairs before he closes it shut. He strips himself of the school uniform and slips on his favorite black sweater and white shorts. 


He takes out his homework and sits at his desk. He finds an old straw and starts chewing it. He taps his pencil against the pages and begins working.

Chapter Text

Katsuki is aware that he's not really liked. He can tell when people are trying to avoid him, straying far away from his path.


It doesn't really bother him at the beginning, but that changes and he absolutely hates it. 


He hates how Uraraka's words stab at his skin, "Why do you keep trying to talk to him, Deku?" She'd whispered, but he heard her perfectly. "All he has done is ever hurt you."


He hates how Ojirou and Hagakure always stare at him as if he's about to explode (maybe he is) . He hates how Tsuyu, ever the blunt one, clearly states how she feels about him. How she sees him. "He's always screaming, breaking the rules in school and he doesn't listen to anyone," He heard her share with Aoyama one day, "One day, he'll end up dead. Or worse, a villain, kero." 


And he hates every other word that comes out of his classmates' mouths. He hates how they stare, how they try to peel off every and any layer he has with a single gaze, trying to see if he's really the monster– the villain they've portrayed him as. Katsuki sometimes thinks that he's proven them right, because the next second his shoulders aren't heavy anymore and he knows they aren't staring anymore. 


Maybe the reason why you hate it so much, he thinks one night, is because you know that they're right. 


All he does is huff and snort and throw an arm over his face. He cracks a grin and laughs. Yeah, maybe they are. 


He doesn't get any sleep that night. He rises the next day, brushes his teeth, quickly 'combs' through his hair, and begins packing up his stuff for the day. Thankfully, he doesn't hear his mom bustling about in the kitchen, so he guesses that she's still asleep or something. 


He puts on his uniform and walks downstairs. He glances outside the window and– her car isn't there. Of course. That's why. 


He grabs a few snacks from the kitchen (there's no note, he notices bitterly) before he throws on his shoes and makes his way to the train. He ignores how Deku is sitting five seats away from him. 




Katsuki is used to being excluded. It used to be something that didn't bother him when he was younger. But well, now he's changed, hasn't he? He may still be rough around the edges, but it's a far cry from who he originally was. 


His skin itches uncomfortably the day Kaminari announces a pool party. It's just for fun. No school or hero talk, they'll just be kids acting like kids for a couple hours. No big deal, right?  


Nobody invites him. 


He gets it, of course. Who in their right mind would invite the guy who's screaming all the time to come to a hangout when he's obviously gonna ruin it? He knows how much of a pain it is, to be around him. He wouldn't invite himself, either. 


Still, something strange pokes at his chest when he sees the pictures they post online. (Yes, he follows some of them, Kirishima made him after he got a twitter account. He's just been too lazy to unfollow all twenty people and block them.) 


Dee ⚡ @chargebot

I'm gonna try to shove Iida into the pool 😎 

[Insert image: Kaminari's face is taking up most of the picture, while you can see Iida talking with Ojirou and Tsuyu beside the pool.] 


PEPPA @alienqueen

Having such a great time!!! I couldn't ask for a better class 😘 

[Insert image: the girls are all crowded around Ashido who's in the center, holding up a piece sign and grinning.] 


He doesn't check his phone for the rest of the day. 




Katsuki is used to being excluded. 


His skin itches uncomfortably the day Yaoyorozu invites everyone to come hang out at her house during the weekend. Her parents were gone on a business trip and she didn't want to be alone. 


Nobody invites him. 


It's okay. He understands. He knows that he's not fun to be around, he just hopes it stops hurting one day. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki is six years old. He is sitting at the coffee table in the living room, doodling in some hero coloring book and absently watching cartoons. Dad is on his way home. Mom is on the couch, reading a novel. 


He looks at the TV from the corner of his eye, reaching his hand over to his crayons to pick out a color. His All Might drawing is almost done, and he can’t wait to show Mom! Maybe it’ll make her happy. She hadn’t been very happy these last few weeks. She was always frowning and ignoring him. 


But it’s okay! He loves his mom. He’ll make her smile again. 


However, something weird and loud comes from his hand as soon as he goes to pick up the yellow crayon. He doesn’t know what happened. All he knows is, his hand hurts alot. 


Mom jumps from the couch and storms over to him. It takes him a moment to register what happened. His quirk went off. And so did some of his skin, apparently. There’s blood the coffee table. ‘’What happened?’’ Mom asks (he thinks it's concern, later he realizes it's annoyance), "What did you do?" 


"I-I-" Katsuki hiccups. His face feels hot and wet. He's crying? "I don't know!" 


Mom clicks her tongue and stands up. She looks at the coffee table then slaps him on the head. "Stupid." She calls him. 


Katsuki stares at his raw, bloodied hand. It hurts a lot. He looks at his coloring book, the crayons and the table; charred and bloodied too. His breath hitches. 


To show he understands, he smacks himself in the face too. "Stupid." He agrees, but Mom doesn't notice. She's gone back to her book. Katsuki feels bad. It was a really pretty coffee table. 


(Later, when dad comes back home and sees how infected his hand became, he immediately freaks out and calls the local clinic. He's laying on the couch and wondering idly, 'Is this something Mom would do?') 



The Sports Festival is coming up. 


Everyone in the class goes wild. For the first time in awhile, he cracks a grin. It's genuine. 


The Sports Festival would be broadcasted around the world. During the events, he'd be able to show off his quirk, his power– all that he had worked his ass off for over the years. 


He can see himself standing on the highest pedestal, shining gold medal presented proudly against his chest. He vows to win. 



He wins, but not in the way he wanted to. 


Katsuki stands on the highest pedestal, shining gold medal dangling from his mouth. Restraints and cuffs are wrapped around him. The muzzle on his face feels too constricting ( get it off get it off–) and he wants out and All Might stands in front of him in all of his muscled glory and just stares and smiles at him and is this really the man he used to looked up too? 


Todoroki barely looks at him. Tokoyami glances at him nervously. He can hear people cheering, some booing. Nobody cheers his name. Panic rises in his chest, but then it's brutally kicked down by anger, frustration. 


They– are they actually gonna leave him like this? Chained to a metal post like some wild fucking animal? Like some rabid dog? 

He glares at Midnight, at All Might, Aizawa and Present Mic and Cementoss and any other 'pro hero'. Do- what did they-.. 


Who thought chaining up a fifteen year old boy like a goddamn villain was okay? 


Why is nobody doing anything? 


His breathes come short. Chest feels heavy. Skin itches uncomfortably. He bites off the skin on the inside of his lip and keeps struggling. 


What is their actual problem? Why are they letting this happen? Aren't they heroes? Why– why does nobody ever listen? 


Fuck U.A and what they stand for. His eyes burn but he refuses to cry. 


Fuck them, he thinks repeatedly like a mantra. His head feels light as he listens to Midnight give some shit speech. Fuck them, fuck them, fuck them, fuck them. 

Chapter Text

The chains don't come off until almost everyone is gone. 


Katsuki finds himself sitting alone in one of the break rooms. Muzzle still strapped to his face and cuffs still clinging to his wrists. His shoulders feel heavy and they ache. 


His skin continues itching– irritating to the point he's viciously rubbing his shoulders against his cheeks and scratching his arms against the edge of the table. He doesn't realize how his breathing started speeding up. How his throat closes up, cold and hurting and his chest unbearably tight. 


He's too distracted doing.. doing whatever he's doing to hear the two voices down the hall. 


"–sure he came down this way?" 


"I think? I asked Cementoss and he said he saw Kacchan enter this room.." 


He hears the door open and he bolts to his feet. Voices don't register in his brain. They– they're not here to put more restraints on him, right? 


His eyes blur and he takes a step back when he sees someone take a step forward. The door closes. 


"Fuck off!" Katsuki snarls, knocking his chair back. The person raises their hands in a peaceful manner. "Bakugou," they murmur, "calm down, it's just me." 


"Get away from me!" He shouts, blindly swinging his - cuffed - hands at the intruder. There's a yelp, and he feels his wrists knock painfully against the metal. 


His vision gets clearer. He sees an arm, all sharp and pointy. It takes him a minute, but he lifts his eyes up to the stranger's face and– it's Kirishima. Thank God. Not Midnight, not All Might. 


"Yo," Kirishima grins once he realizes he's been recognized. "Me and Midoriya just wanted to check up on you." He pointedly ignores the cuffs and muzzle. For now. "You doing okay?" 


Katsuki stares at him blankly. 


Kirishima shifts from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. ‘’Ah, yeah.. dumb question. Sorry. Don’t answer that.’’ He taps the metal caging his wrists. Katsuki flinches. ‘’Want me to help get those off?’’ 


Katsuki doesn't speak. He nods. Kirishima grins. 



Kirishima sits at the table while he's pacing back and forth behind him. 


He- he can't breath as easily as he'd like too. He can still feel the straps tying him down. Trapping his face to a box of metal. 


His skin itches. He shakes his hands vigorously every few minutes, and digs his nails in his wrists painfully. 


"It's really messed up, what they did." Kirishima speaks up after a while. He fiddles with the medal on the table. The gold shines under the light. "Some people in our class tried to speak with them, but we were just ignored." He pauses, "Heroes aren't supposed to do that." 


Katsuki grunts in agreement. His pacing picks up. 


Kirishima glances back at him before his gaze falls back on the medal. "Dude, I couldn't believe All Might did that though!" He continues, "It's like he had no shame or something! Chaining up one of his students? Really not manly." 


Katsuki grits his teeth. His steps turn into stomps. Anger, white and hot burns inside his chest. He glares at the back of Kirishima's head. What the fuck are you playing at? 


"You should've seen Midoriya, man– he looked so devastated. I mean, who wouldn't be? I'd be so mad if one of my idols shoved a muzzle on one of my friends." 


He rakes his nails over his skin roughly. Deku and I aren't friends. 


"It's sad that our hero society is this way, y'know? No adult tried to actually stop the awards ceremony and– bro, remember that one guy during your match against Uraraka? Tha–" 


Katsuki knocks over the chair beside him and leans his foot against the table. 


‘’Where the fuck are you going with this?’’ He asks quietly, menacing. Kirishima doesn’t waver and shrugs. ‘’I know you must be pretty frustrated and… embarrassed about this whole thing-’’ Katsuki growls, I’m not embarrassed. ‘’-but I figured if you don’t want to talk right now, I’ll talk for you!’’ He grins and holds a thumbs up. 


Katsuki stares at him. 


He doesn’t answer for a few minutes but eventually settles with a simple, ‘’Dumbass.’’ 


Kirishima visibly brightens and smiles. He dramatically flips his hair -and fails horribly- and leans so far back in his chair he almost falls. ‘’’Thank you so much for your kind words, Kirishima!’ It’s no problem, my frien-’’ His chair topples back and he falls to the ground with a loud ‘oof’. 


Katsuki snorts and crosses his arm. His heart beats a little faster when the word ‘friend’ registers in his mind. Kirishima sits up. 


‘’What makes you think we’re friends?’’ Katsuki asks, but not unkindly. 


Do you really want to be my friend? 


"Dude," The redhead flops on his back and lifts his arms in the air. "I've wanted to be friends with you since the USJ! You seem like a cool guy and we make such a kickass team!" He grins, "Who wouldn't want to be friends with you?" 


("Stop it, Kacchan! You're hurting him!" Deku begs, all bloody scratches and yellowed bruises. 


"Bakugou's here," A girl whispers to her friends, "Run." 


"Stop trying to burn the other kids, Bakugou!" One of his elementary teachers snap, roughly tearing him and some other kid apart.) 


Katsuki's face falls somber and he frowns. "A lot of people." He says. It's not self-deprecating or attention-seeking, it's just the truth. 


Kirishima laughs. "Good thing I'm not like them!" 


Chapter Text

Kirishima is fun to talk to, he supposes. He’s understanding. Not pushy. 


( He also doesn’t tolerate his shit, which is a relief as much as it frustrates him. He barely held himself back when he saw fucking Deku and Aizawa waiting for him. 


‘’I wanted to check up on you.’’ My ass.) 


Katsuki still dreads going back home, though. He doesn’t feel as bad when he sees that it’s his dad that came to pick him up. 


He’s ashamed of you. 


He ignores the whisper and gives Kirishima a half-wave over his shoulder. Kirishima, who smiles like he’s seen the fucking sun and enthusiastically waves back before he dashes to his parents. 


Katsuki opens the door and slides into the car, hardly making any noise. He can see his dad smile from the corner of his eye. Katsuki stares at his hands. 


"You were great today." Masaru says. His head snaps up and– what? 


"I mean, aside from the Awards ceremony," Katsuki's cheeks burn. "You were amazing. Your talent, your quirk, leadership... I'm proud of you, kid." Masaru grins. 


He can't help but scoff good-naturedly. "Talent? Ain't nothing about talent," Katsuki gestures at himself. "I worked my ass off for this."


His dad smiles. "I know." 



His body aches in multiple places, but it's not bad compared to the other… beatings, he's gotten. His dad had been there to stop Mitsuki from going too far. 


Still. He hesitantly touches the bruise swelling on his cheek and– ow. That really hurt. His foot had also been fucked with. Even if he didn't know how or why , he blames it on Mitsuki. It's always her fault. 




He stares at the gold medal on his desk. It reminds him of how fucking Todoroki Shouto, son of the number two hero thought he wasn't worthy enough to fight against. It was embarrassing. He had given it his all, and dare he say it, he was excited for his match. His Howitzer Impact was by far the best he'd ever made, and that dual piece of actual shit.. had just let his flames die. Like he wasn’t bothered to really fight against him. 


And- and then when he’d tried to leave after his match, Midnight and All Might tried to convince him to stay. Obviously, that didn’t work out, so they resorted to chaining him to a metal post. And- 


He’s tired. And his cheeks are.. suspiciously wet? 


Why is he crying? 


‘’Fuck,’’ Katsuki mumbles and sniffles. He rubs his arms against his face and his sleeves rub harshly against his eyelids so much that they start to burn. He sucks in a shuddering breath and leans forward on his knees. ‘’What the fuck.’’ 


Why had the Sports Festival been like that? Why had no one done anything? Why didn’t Aizawa stop them? Why did All Might still stand in front of him, smiling as if he’d done nothing wrong? 


Distantly, he feels something sharp and painful on his skull but he ignores it. His mind is in a constant tornado of why, why why why why why, how come why did they do it where how how how why why why why me why did they do it-


He snaps back to focus when his skull throbs painfully. He numbly detaches his hands from his hair, where they’d been gripping the fluffy locks tightly. His palms are sweaty. Crackling with small sparks. There’s some blood under his nails. 


Katsuki stares blankly at his hands. 




Oh. Yeah. That happens. It happens. But he’s okay. It’s okay. His head hurts even more. 


Everything feels.. weird. He feels weird. Katsuki doesn’t know how to feel yet. He’s mad, yes. Humiliated beyond belief, also yes. But he’s mostly tired. 


He skillfully ignores Mitsuki making a ruckus downstairs and his dad skittering nervously in the hallway. The sun is still up. He doesn’t bother closing his curtains and curls up under his covers. 


Maybe a nap would be good. 

Chapter Text

Katsuki braces himself for the next day. Masaru left early this morning like usual, so he'll probably only really see him during the weekend or something. It sucks, but he's used to it. 


Mitsuki doesn't bother leaving her bedroom the entire time he's downstairs. He’s okay with that. He doesn’t think he would’ve been able to handle her this morning. He still feels fucked up. 


He also really, really doesn’t want to face anyone today. The Sports Festival was emotionally and mentally taxing– embarrassing beyond belief, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone. And the fact that his classmates had seen it all up close just made it ten times worse. The same classmates that he'd be staying with for the rest of his years at U.A. 


So he has two options: either he stays at home to wallow in his misery, anxiety or whatever the fuck's festering in his brain or he toughens up and faces school head on. 


While he much prefers the first option (sure, Mitsuki would give him shit for staying home but fuck her), Katsuki didn't deal so much shit from life just to back down at the last minute. 


So he grabs a granola bar from the kitchen, shoves on his shoes, drops his bag over his shoulders and makes his way towards the train station. He ignores Deku again. He ignores Deku when he still sits five seats away from him. He ignores the world and hopes to make it through the day. 



There were only two people in the faculty room when Yamada came in loudly proclaiming, "We fucked up!" 


Aizawa, still trapped in his mummified prison, only grunts in acknowledgment and carries on with his paperwork. Nemuri looks at him curiously, "What do you mean?" 


Yamada throws himself on the couch and groans into the cushions. "I think we should've handled the Sports Festival better." 


Nemuri frowns and taps her pencil against her cheek. "Eh? I thought it was nice." 


"Uh, hello? The Awards ceremony?" Yamada stares at her in disbelief. 


"I'm really sorry, I don't see your problem here..?" 


Aizawa sighs irritably and rubs his face (as much as he could anyways). Nemuri and her short-term memory only worked when it was convenient for her. 


"We shouldn't have chained up Bakugou, is what he means." says Aizawa. 


Nemuri leans back in her chair. ‘’Listen,’’ she begins, as if it’s an exhausting topic. ‘’The kid was being unreasonable and disobedient. Do you not remember how he almost attacked Todoroki after he passed out?’’ 


Yamada doesn’t answer for a full minute. ‘’Unreasonable..’’ He whispers quietly to himself. He looks at Nemuri. ‘’..You actually think that?’’ 


He could feel the tension slowly but surely rising in the room, but instead of stopping the conversation, Aizawa attributes again. ‘’You’re overlooking some things here, Nemuri.’’ He glares. ‘’Bakugou wasn’t being unreasonable by any means- he was rightfully pissed off because Todoroki didn’t give him his all during the match. Considering Bakugou and his obsession with earning victories, the right thing to do would’ve been to let him go and cool off instead of forcing him in front of everyone.’’ He growls, ‘’No less in chains and a muzzle, too.’’ 


‘’Okay, I get your point,’’ Nemuri rises to his confrontational tone. ‘’But we had to hand out the medals at the end and Bakugou not being there would’ve looked bad on UA’s part. We took the precautions needed, Bakugou could’ve lashed out at any point! Besides, was there anything really harmed after it?’’


The blonde-haired hero sat up. ‘’We might’ve potentially hindered his hero career- almost destroyed it, Midnight . You-’’ He murmurs, ‘’Did anyone check up on him, at least?’’ 


Aizawa nods while Nemuri fell in a guilty silence. ‘’I tried to talk with him after the ceremony, but it seemed Kirishima and Midoriya were already there. He just ignored me, however, so I let him be. I plan to speak with him after homeroom though.’’ 


Yamada raked a hand through his hair. ‘’Good. Good.. that’s good, I think. Yeah.’’ He shakes his head and drops his face in his hands. ‘’God, we just villainized a fucking child . The media’s gonna be all over him, how can we go from that?’’ 


There was no easy answer to that, and all three knew it.

Chapter Text

Katsuki almost fucking starts crying when he sees his house. It's not happiness or relief, it's the dread of seeing another monster today that makes his heart beat painfully. 


His dad pulls into the driveway and kills the engine shortly after. It's quiet for a while as Katsuki tries to gain some bearing; today was a bad day, he just has to block out the hag even more and make it to his room somewhat unscathed. He can.. do it. Maybe. Possibly. 


They bask in the silence before Masaru clears his throat. "You know," he begins slowly, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "You know she does this because she loves you, right?" 


Katsuki stares at him, uncomprehending. 




His dad doesn’t stop there. ‘'I love you kiddo, I do, but understand that sometimes..’’ Masaru looks at him. Katsuki bristles. ‘'You can be really difficult to handle. Your mother’s trying her best, so  just give her some time, yeah?’’ He tries for a grin. 


''Are you serious?’’ Katsuki says instead.




''Its- you really believe that this is my fault?’’ 


"No," Masaru lies and immediately backtracks. "Sometimes you're just a lot, you know? You and your mother are so alike so you tend to set her off if you get what I mean.." 


"But she–" Katsuki falters. His mind conjures an image of a fist- shaking in front of his face. A hand over his head, nails the prettiest shade of red shining in the hallway. The same nails digging into his neck. The same hand continuously leaving bruises and handprints on his cheeks and temples. 


Was that really his fault? 



‘'Bakugou! Hey! Good morning!’’ 


Kirishima runs up to him with a large grin splattered on his face. Katsuki stares at him with newfound distaste. What kind of monster could be happy in the morning? 


''Morning.'' He responds eventually, continuing his tread to the school building. Kirishima takes in his pace quickly and walks alongside him as if they were best friends. Which they aren’t. 


''So? How are you?'' Kirishima playfully bumps his shoulder against his, obviously trying to strike up a conversation. Katsuki isn’t as willing though. 


He briefly thinks about the fit his mother threw last night before shrugging. ''Fine.'' He answers. They fall into what Katsuki thinks is a comfortable silence, but not Kirishima as he coughs pointedly. 


Oh, isn’t it polite to ask back? 


And while he’s thinking ‘why the hell I am trying to be polite’, his mouth moves without his own accord and he hears himself ask, ''And you?''. Kirishima, ever the fucking sunshine (apparently), visibly brightens. 


''Good!'' He punches the air excitedly, ''I think I did well during the Sports festival, you know?'' He grins. ''I feel like I could take on the world right now!'' 


Katsuki frowns and thinks. Did he do well? If he ignores the end of it, then yeah. He was pretty satisfied with himself during his match against… Uraraka? Is that her name? Yeah. He supposes he did good. 


But it’s not about him, it’s about Kirishima - always so self-centred, Katsuki. 


Looking back on it, Kirishima did do good. He took in Tetsutetsu’s hits with ease and landed some heavy punches of his own. And in the end, despite their near-identical quirks, Kirishima came out victorious. Not to mention, he was also a pain in the ass to take down, always taking his blasts on with his hard as fuck skin. 


He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels someone bump his arm gently. ''Bakugou?'' Kirishima calls, curious but not concerned. 


Katsuki can’t help himself from barking back, ''What?'' but immediately recoils internally. It wasn’t the idiot’s fault that he had gotten lost in his thoughts. 


''Nothing,'' Kirishima hums. ''You were just zoning out.'' No anger or annoyance. 




The redhead smiles and shrugs. ''Don’t worry about it,'' He responds, ''It happens.''



Homeroom passes within a blink of an eye. Mindless chatter during lectures was quickly shut down by Aizawa, and more than once had Kaminari’s name been called. The usual stuff. 


As he’s gathering his things, Aizawa decides then to rise from his sleeping bag like a funky butterfly. The class is half empty when he calls out, ''Bakugou, stay back for a minute.''


Katsuki ignores the stares thrown in his direction and barely holds back a groan, rolling his head backwards. Didn’t this just happen days ago? 


"What?'' He asks impatiently, not bothering to move from his place beside his desk. They could communicate perfectly from where they were. Yup.


Aizawa didn’t seem to think the same thing as he watched the rest of his classmates quickly rush out of the class, closing the door soundly behind them. He only responded once everyone was out. 

''Come here.'' 


''This is okay.''


''Bakugou, come here.'' 


Katsuki sighs and walks over to the front, brows furrowed and- no, he is not pouting. Aizawa raises an eyebrow at his attitude but doesn’t comment on it. ''How are you feeling brat?''


''The day literally just started, I don’t know.''


''Right.'' He clears his throat. ''Okay, first of all, I wanted to apologize for the Sports Festival.''


Katsuki groans. ''You couldn’t do shit, sensei, you were practically mummified the entire time. I don’t hold it against you nor do I really care.'' 


''But you deserve to hear it at least,'' Aizawa argues. 


''Not from you.'' He shoots back. 


''Then let me apologize on the behalf of the U.A staff.'' Aizawa says. ''Why they thought chaining you up on national TV was reasonable, I can’t understand. It was unjust treatment and-''


Katsuki cuts him off. ''Listen, I really don’t care. What happened, happened. It’s in the past. I honestly don’t care about it anymore-'' lies, but whatever ''-so can we just.. drop it already. It doesn’t bother me anymore.'' He pauses, ''It happened for a reason anyways.''


''Bakugou-'' Aizawa begins. 


Katsuki picks up his bag and walks to the door. ''I’ll see you in gym.'' He growls. The door closes with a slam.