Rose petals fall but the thorns remain a pain in the ass
Katsuki couldn't think of anything else he could do, so he stayed locked up in his room that night. His parents left him alone. Which was probably the smartest fucking thing they had done all day, Katsuki wasn't sure he'd have been able to stop himself from flying off the handle. At some point, one of them had left something by his door, probably dinner from that evening. Katsuki wasn't hungry.
The sky outside had since gone dark, and at some point he had heard his parents head off to bed. That had probably been a few hours ago, but Katsuki didn't really know for sure. He had just been lying on his bed, staring at his wall – and, once the sun had set, staring into darkness.
It wasn't like he was actually sleeping or anything, he probably wouldn't be able to fall asleep even if he wanted to. Which, he wanted to. If he was asleep, he wouldn't be stuck thinking about bullshit. But, as he was begrudgingly coming to realize, not thinking about something was infinitely easier said than done. The best he could do for now was keep his thoughts foggy, his mind in a haze. Not focus on anything, just to keep the petals at bay.
But suddenly, his phone let out a buzz, the screen lighting up his dark room. As if by instinct, Katsuki grabbed it and squinted at the notification.
[Shitty Hair] 23:46
Hey Bakugou! Just checking in :) I heard ur mom picked u up this morning, everything ok?
And, shit, he was gasping for air before he had even finished reading the text.
It was the same shit all over again. In a frantic scramble, Katsuki swung his legs over the side of the bed, feet making landfall, and then he was bolting to his door, a bit of a stagger in his steps as the sudden shift in position made his head swim and as the beginnings of the coughs set him off balance. The way his chest was already heaving, over and over again, as petals forced their way up his wind pipe, made it difficult to focus on finer movements. After struggling with the lock, he swung open the door and stomped to the bathroom, barely managing to get his head over the toilet basin before the petals fell.
There he coughed and hacked, so much that he felt like he could throw up, drool dripping from his mouth like some sort of an animal, fingers practically clawing at his chest and throat, until it finally relented and air shakily entered his lungs again.
Honestly, fuck Kirishima. Fuck him, for being so… so…
The hallway light turned on behind him, the room brightening as the door creaked open, and there was the soft padding of footsteps approaching, a hand resting on his shoulder.
Katsuki turned sharply, glaring.
It was his dad, robed and bleary-eyed, holding a water bottle down to him. Without a word, Katsuki grabbed the bottle and uncapped it, shrugging the hand off of his shoulder before draining half the water in just a few gulps.
His dad's let out a yawn, scratching the nape of his neck. "You alright?"
Katsuki stared him down.
"That's… a big no. Point taken." Dad rubbed at his eyes, his voice a grumbled mess. "You want food? There's leftovers downstairs. Curry. I made it extra spicy."
"No. Leave me alone." Katsuki flushed the toilet and lowered the lid so he could sit on it while he caught his breath.
"Well, in that case…" His dad blew air from puffed-up cheeks, looking around him like he wasn't sure why he was even there. But then, he slowly looked up to Katsuki, his brow quipped curiously. "What set it off?"
"Eh?"
"The flowers. One of the blogs said there's usually a trigger or something."
Katsuki looked away, jaw set. "It's not like that. Fucking, mind your own business."
"I just want to understand what you're going through, that's all. It's why I want to ask questions. That way, I can know how to help. But if I shouldn't even bother trying, then I won't."
Katsuki continued to look to the side, a pout on his lips. It wasn't that he needed someone to understand. He didn't need sympathy, or empathy, or pity, or any of that bullshit. But, there was something comforting in the idea of venting, letting all of his frustration out on open and willing ears. Maybe it would lift some of the weight that had found itself resting heavily on his chest. So he shrugged, keeping his eyebrows low so his dad would still know how decidedly not happy he was about it.
Taking the shrug as an invitation, his dad nodded, more to himself than anything. He leaned against the doorframe, hunkering down as if they were gonna have some sort of a deep conversation. "Then, if it's okay to ask, what does it feel like? When you… you know."
"It's hell."
And Katsuki should have just left it at that. An immediate, jarring deadpan, no hesitation. It was hell, and that was all that his dad needed to know. But the look in Dad's eyes – uneasiness, curiosity, concern, all wrapped into one – for some reason, it urged Katsuki on. So he kept his head down, cleared his throat. Let out whatever his voice would allow.
"It's like that feeling of food going down the wrong pipe. Except, imagine it fucking ten times worse. It burns, stings. Smells like shit, tastes like shit, so bad that I could actually puke. It can happen literally whenever it fucking feels like it. And once it starts, it won't stop no matter how hard I try."
The room fell completely silent at that. And when Katsuki finally looked up, their eyes meeting, the way his dad was looking at him… it was pitying.And it was infuriating. That's exactly why he should have just kept his goddamn mouth shut. The water bottle crinkled harshly in his tightening grip, his jaw so tense that it was starting to hurt. With a snarl on his lips, he fixed his eyes on the floor again. His dad staring at him like that, it made him feel cornered. Claustrophobic. It needed to stop.
He stood, taking one last long gulp of water before crunching the plastic totally in his hands and tossing it into the waste basket. "I'm going to bed."
"Oh, right, before you go..." his dad piped up, his hand reaching for something in his robe pocket before offering the object to Katsuki. "Here's this. You dropped it when you came in here. You're lucky the screen didn't crack on the tile."
Fuck. It was his phone. In his mad dash for the bathroom, it must have slipped through his fingers. Katsuki grabbed it, pressing the home button and watching it light up in his palms. The notification was still there, bright like a beacon, and he could feel his stomach lurch at the sight, petals threatening to cross his lips again. He tried his best to keep them at bay, through sheer force of will alone.
"If only we knew what the trigger was," his dad wondered out loud, quietly, some curious tone peeking through his voice. "Then, maybe we could avoid something like this it in the future. You know?"
With scrunched brows, Katsuki looked up. His eyes locked with his dad's, who was peering at him knowingly. Katsuki's gaze lowered back to his phone. To the text notification that was glowing back at him. As realization struck him, a growl rumbled deep in his throat. He glared back at Dad, one last time.
That nosey fucker.
"Fuck off. I mean it."
"Alright, alright," his dad held up a hand in surrender. "You deserve privacy, and if you don't want to talk about it, then we won't talk about it."
With a grunt, Katsuki pushed past him, trudging through the hallway.
"But if you do want to talk about it…" his dad's voice started calmly after him, the sincere tone making Katsuki freeze in his tracks. "If you ever need to, you can. We'll listen, both me and your mother. You… you do know that, right?" he asked. "Right, Katsuki?"
Katsuki didn't say anything at that. Didn't turn around, didn't even hum in acknowledgement. Just flipped his middle finger over his shoulder and sulked down the corridor, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
It wasn't until well after noon that Katsuki finally reemerged from his room, stomach grumbling loudly in complaint about its neglect. He ignored his parents calling out to him from where they were working in their office, and prepared himself a late lunch. It was just leftovers from the previous day, and much more than his strict training diet would usually allow. But his regimen had already been fucked over by this whole ordeal anyways, and he was really fucking hungry, so whatever.
The coughing fits had subsided, just the tiniest bit. Probably because he wasn't at school around any possible triggers. But the smallest thing could still set the petals off at any time. A newscaster on TV, with hair fiery red under the bright studio lights, the occasional text from a certain concerned classmate, these types of things left him racing for the nearest trashcan. So Katsuki turned off the TV. Turned off his phone. He tried to occupy his mind the rest of the day by taking a shower and finishing his weekend's homework. He went to bed early again, hoping to shorten the time until all of this bullshit would finally stop.
And then it was Monday morning, another doctor's appointment. The doctor talked his parents through the medication, how it worked, its side-effect, as well as more briefing about the nature of the disorder itself. Katsuki was supposed to be listening, too, but his anger and frustration was nearly all-consuming. Even when he tried to mentally distance himself from the situation, he could still feel them nibbling away at the back of his mind, like some sort of parasite. To keep himself under control, he just blotted out the conversation.
Then, he and his mom were finally on the road, driving back to UA. The weather outside was beautiful, and it wasn't fucking fair that nature was in such a good mood on what was already starting to be one of the top five worst days of his life. Mom had been running her mouth since they had left the hospital, nagging him non-stop about the same exact shit that the doctor had just told them before, except this time it was all but impossible to block out.
"Your father should be calling the school now, making arrangements for us to meet with the principal and the nurse, as well as some of your teachers, so they know how to best help you. That'll happen later today or tomorrow."
"Hm." As long as he didn't have to sit through that meeting, as long as he didn't have to endure the stares of pity or disgust or confusion from his teachers, then he couldn't complain. His parents could do whatever the hell they wanted.
"And remember – I know you have some deep-seated hatred against feelings, but you have to be responsible. Technically, school policy says that students need to take prescriptions with the nurse present to make sure that it's taken properly, but for you they're allowing an exception. You better not abuse that."
Katsuki's eyes flickered down to the backpack that was by his feet – where his medication was. A capsule, taken once in the morning and up to two other times a day as needed. As for how it worked, Katsuki didn't know and he didn't care.
His mom seemed like she was waiting for a response, so "yeah, yeah," was all he muttered.
"Your homeroom teacher has been warned in advance. This first week, your respiratory system will be compromised until the medicine kicks in, so you better keep the workouts light, ya hear?"
"Whatever."
Katsuki glanced out the window, watching the gates of the school approach. Their car was let through. They pulled pulled to a stop on a round-about outside the main quad, and his mom shifted the gear to park. Finally, he was here. Katsuki grabbed a strap of his backpack with one hand and reached for the door handle with the other.
"You got all of your school books? Your medicine?"
He grunted before swinging the door open, stepping out of the car.
"And remember, you already took some this morning, so hold off for a while—"
"—I know."
"And in training, go easy on yourself, for a week at least—"
"—I know—"
"—And, you have a phone so if anything happens, you call right away, ya hear? Or even just, fucking, text every once in a while, for goodness' sake—"
"—I fucking heard all of this the first three times, Christ, woman."
"Katsuki."
"What?" He turned, leaning down to look through the door, thoroughly pissed.
And Mom… she didn't look right. Her face was all sunken in with worried, more than he was used to her letting show. He didn't like it.
"Just, call if you need anything, alright?"
He tch-ed. "If I say yes, will you fucking get off my back?"
"Sure."
"Then whatever."
"Alright then," she rolled her eyes, amused, shifting into drive, "See you later, kid. Study hard."
Katsuki slammed the door and slung the backpack over his shoulder, listening as the car sped off, taking in the academic scene in front of him. He heaved a sigh.
Plus Fucking Ultra, or whatever.
Once Katsuki entered the school grounds, he made it a full eight minutes before he was coughing up petals in a bathroom. The moment he had walked into the cafeteria, he had spotted a blaze of red hair across the way, and rather than spend the end of lunch break getting a meal, Katsuki found himself hunched over a fucking toilet. Again. And it wasn't like he could take another pill so soon after he had taken his first one. Fuck.
Once the episode had passed, Katsuki settled for a few gyoza from the cafeteria, something he could eat in the short lunchtime that he had left. Sure enough, soon after he had finished, the bell rang, and it was time for class. He made his way down the hallways, avoiding anyone he recognized, being sure to trudge into the classroom at the last possible second, planting himself in the seat just as the lesson began. The less time to interact with his classmates, the better, and avoiding Kirishima like the plague seemed like a solid plan in general, even if his parents were completely and totally wrong about the whole... love thing. With Katsuki's desk being at the front of the room without a single strand of red hair to gaze upon, that afternoon's classes went by without incident. Could have been a lot worse.
But then came their training.
It was a Monday, their most warm-up heavy day. After throwing on his gym clothes, Katsuki made his way out to the gymnasium, fully prepared to work his way through their routine stretches. But before he could make a space for himself on the floor mats, Aizawa approached him.
"Bakugou, you'll sit out for today."
"Seriously? All of it?"
Aizawa gave a curt nod. "Doctor's orders."
Yeah, yeah, the doctor did say that some bullshit like this would happen, so Katsuki had been expecting it. But that didn't make it any less frustrating.
"It's just warm-ups," he grumbled through clenched teeth.
But Aizawa's look was stern, and he handed over a packet of make-up work from earlier that day, motioning to a lone chair in the far corner of the gymnasium.
Katsuki literally wanted nothing more than to say 'fuck that' and blast through exercises and training like it was nothing. Like he knew he could. But when Katsuki glanced over to his chattering classmates, as one voice singled itself out over the crowd, loud and cheery and obnoxious, "what did you guys get up to this weekend?", he could feel his lungs practically shudder. He turned back to Aizawa, grudgingly snatched the paper out of his hands, and sulked over to the sidelines.
To put it plainly, Kirishima wasn't helping matters a single fucking bit. The guy was pushy, always asking to be tutored, or to go sparring, or to play video games, or watch a movie, or fuck-all. Which, certainly wasn't out of character for him, and before this whole ordeal had started, Katsuki would occasionally accept his offers because he had nothing better to do.
But right after that Monday's training, while Katsuki gathered his things, Kirishima approached him to ask for god-knows-what, and the sensations in his chest were so strong that Katsuki had no choice but to push the redhead aside and storm away in a mad search for a trashcan, or some paper towels. He had to run away. There wasn't really another way to put it. He was running away. Pathetic.
And it wasn't like that was the only time it happened that day, either. Outside of the classroom, there wasn't much for Katsuki to focus his mind on, so it was easier for his thoughts to get distracted, his own damn mind wandering without his control, and then he'd start thinking about fucking bullshit, embarrassing bullshit that he would deny well into the grave. And then he'd have to dart to his bathroom.
Not to mention that the universe was a complete and utter sadist, and had some twisted sense of humor too, since their dorms were right fucking next to each other. Before, it hadn't bothered him too much, it was better to have Kirishima as a neighbor than literally anyone else. But now, it was the fucking bane of his existence.
Because now, every time Kirishima knocked on his door to ask for help with a chemistry problem – petals.
Every time he heard Kirishima's trash workout music playing a little too loudly through the wall – petals.
Every fucking time he heard one of Kirishima's doors open, for any goddamn reason, at all, even if it was just him going to go take a goddamn piss – fucking petals.
Honestly, at this point in the day it felt like nothing had changed at all. The petals were unrelenting, setting off at the smallest thing, and there was only so much medicine he could take to counter them. Hell, with how shitty just this first day had been, he wasn't even sure if the medicine was helping a single bit.
On Tuesday morning, Katsuki was late for class. And not for some vaguely excusable reason either, he just had the worst timing in the goddamn world. He and Kirishima had walked out of their rooms to head to class at the same time, making Katsuki dart back into his room, slam the door behind him, and wait for the coughing fit to pass. At this rate, Kirishima was going to start worrying about him or some shit. No training that day either. And he still didn't know if the medicine was working,
"These things take time". He did remember the doctor saying that. But Katsuki couldn't afford to just wait around. He had things to do. He had a life to live, a future to prepare for. How long was time going to take?
Wednesday went by alright, all things considered. Only three incidences happened at school – only one was during an actual class during some group activity, one happened during a break, and the last while he was sitting out, watching everyone else train. Maybe, since he could take his medicine up to three times a day, the petals were becoming a lot easier to manage?
Although, it was getting more and more difficult ignoring his fucking nosey classmates. Katsuki could just tell they were already wondering about him, all hushed behind his back.
He heard them, sometimes. The curious whispers under their breaths as he walked back into the classroom after a mad dash to the toilets. The snooping glances thrown his way during lunch. The concerned expressions he got as he sat, stuck in the sidelines watching everyone else train their bodies and quirks every afternoon. It was frustrating, enough to make his knuckles turn white and his jaw hurt. So, he ignored them, let their whispering bade to the background.
He especially ignored Kirishima. Or at least, he tried to. He seemed to be at least somewhat successful in that regard. Even after the school day, the petals seemed to have lessened, but it was too soon to say if it was the medication's doing, or if he was just getting really good at avoiding Kirishima despite the red-head's relentless attempts to flag him down at literally every fucking opportunity. Maybe the guy was just finally taking a hint.
All of that to say, it could have been a lot worse. But it was still pretty damn shitty.
Thursday went by much the same. There weren't as many petals, which should have been a relief, but the fact that they were still happening at all seemed to be presenting a new problem.
The thing is, Katsuki was supposed to be slowly reintroduced to the training schedule. Per doctor's orders (and the permission of his parents and administration), the first few days were to remain largely exercise-free, no warm-ups or anything. But as his condition improved, Katsuki should have been allowed to rejoin the class during their more minor drills, at Aizawa's discretion. But, as the school week was coming to an end, and even as Katsuki's incidences became relatively few, it was becoming clear that Aizawa had no intention of allowing him to join the class anytime soon. Seems as though training wasn't going to happen at all until the petals stopped completely.
Which, was complete horseshit. His medicine was working, wasn't it? There was no way it was just some sort of fucking placebo effect. Hell, even if it was all in his mind, the petals were going away regardless, and that had to count for something, right? He should be able to work out, train, be around the other students, even stupid redheaded ones, and he should still be alright.
Though, would he really be alright around Kirishima? There was really only one way to know for sure, but it wasn't like Katsuki was going to go out of his way to make it happen. He would just have to wait for the opportunity to present itself. And, knowing Kirishima, that probably wouldn't take too long. The guy was persistent, after all.
And, fucking, lo and behold, that Thursday afternoon, Kirishima finally managed to get him cornered.
Katsuki was moping around in the school locker room, waiting for it to clear out so he could put on his outdoor shoes in peace. Most of the other students were gone already, and he was just rummaging around his locker when he saw a flash of red appear next to him.
He looked over the locker door that was swung open, and saw Kirishima leaning with his back against the lockers, looking straight ahead of hinself. His expression was... contemplative. Or, reflective.
And his stomach was fluttering, and twisting in knots, and it was so goddamn uncomfortable, but Katsuki tried his best to push it all down. It felt like he was challenging fate or something, being in Kirishima's presence and refusing to let the petals consume him through sheer force of will and medication alone. He looked away from Kirishima, focused on getting his backpack out of the locker, and that helped ebb the discomfort.
After a little hesitation, Kirishima finally spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Sure miss sparing against you."
And the sound of that voice, it was doing things to Katsuki's chest just like it had before. His heart was beating, too quickly to be normal. He could feel his breath coming a bit short, his stomach fluttering. But there was something else there too, something new. It was like cotton filling his brain.
"Hm," was all he could say.
"We should do that again sometime soon. Sparing."
Yeahhh, that wasn't going to happen until he got better. Katsuki gritted his teeth at the bitter reminder, but just hummed again.
"You know," Kirishima said, tilting his head to the side, a curious pout on his lips, "You seem a bit different."
"Eh?"
"I dunno, you're just more… mellow? Chill? If that makes sense? You don't seem to be as… feisty as you usually are."
Katsuki slammed his locker shut as hard as he could, making Kirishima jump a bit. "I'm always fucking chill," he deadpan-ed.
"Ahaha, sure you are," Kirishima snorted.
And this mindless conversation, something like banter between the two... this was something he could do now. He could hold a conversation, and the petals weren't coming. That was an improvement, right?
As a silence swept over them, Kirishima settled for looking down to the floor, as if contemplating the words that were on the tip of his tongue. Finally, his voice cut through the quiet. "Bakugou, is something wrong?"
And here comes the question.
Katsuki turned to him, lips pursed. "Like what?"
"Dunno, er… nothing. Never mind. Well," Kirishima pushed his shoulder off of the lockers and grabbed at the book-bag that he had placed by his feet. "I hope to see you back in training soon, 'kay?"
"Yeah."
Well, getting Kirishima off of his back had been a lot easier than expected. But no doubt the guy would be asking again sometime soon.
And as Kirishima walked away, leaving him alone, there was the twisting, ever so faint, and a slight tickle at the back of his throat. But there was also the cotton in his head, the static. And there were no petals.
That was something that Katsuki should have felt really happy about, because fucking finally. Finally, he could get through some sort of an interaction with Kirishima, without that fucking disgusting flowery shit deciding to ruin his fucking day. It should have felt like a triumph.
But honestly, it didn't feel all that exciting. Everything was just a little… dull.
As that first week came to an end, the incidences still happened occasionally, maybe twice a day at most, but they were less severe. Katsuki even found that carrying around a couple tissues was all he needed to take care of a few of the weaker coughing fits. That was a relief, since the convenience meant he didn't cause a scene making a getaway from wherever he happened to be at the time, and he didn't have to worry about his classmates seeing him take some strange pill in the middle of class. The types of questions that could bring up, were not the type of questions he ever wanted to deal with.
But something that was weird about these final petering of petals, was that they could happen at any time. Katsuki wasn't stupid – even if his parents had it all wrong, even if he didn't feel like that about Kirishima, something about the guy was definitely the source of the coughing. Or, at least, the guy had been. Now, the petals fell whenever they goddamn pleased, which was a bit more annoying. They weren't as predictable when they were like this. But, he figured that meant the last surviving petals were clearing themselves out of his system by any means possible. So, while Katsuki could no longer control the petals simply by avoiding Kirishima, that also meant that he could stand being in Kirishima's presence for longer than five minutes. Not that he wanted to. But, he could. If he did want to. Which, he didn't.
Sometimes he could still feel the discomfort in his chest, and whatever that cottony static in his brain was, was becoming a lot more prevalent. It was annoying. But his throat no longer felt constantly scratchy and raw, and Katsuki didn't have to smell or taste fucking roses all the goddamn time, which was nearly all he could have asked for.
Now, all he needed was for Aizawa to let him train already.
The time came soon enough. At the beginning of the following week, with the petals dwindling to nearly non-existent, Aizawa actually let Katsuki join the class for their pre-training stretches and warm-ups. It was finally a little progress, one step closer to being back on the hero track. But then Wednesday rolled around, and god-knows-what set off a flurry of petals in Algebra, and word must have passed on to Aizawa in the teacher's break room because Katsuki was forced to sit in the sidelines again that afternoon.
It was so goddamn frustrating. Katsuki knew he could be doing more. Knew he should be doing more. But for some reason, Aizawa was still holding him back.
That evening, there was a knock on his door.
Katsuki looked up from his phone, staring the door down as if sheer willpower alone would be enough to send the person away.
They knocked again.
With a groan, he rolled out of bed and shuffled his way to the door, swinging it open. And it was Kirishima, because, well, of course it fucking was.
"Hey, Bakugou!" He grinned, pointy teeth blinding.
Katsuki took a deep breath through his nose. "What do you want?"
"Sorry to bother you so late, but, well… I'm really stressing out about that Algebra quiz on Friday." He held up a notebook and a pencil. "Think you could help a bro out?"
The guy wanted tutoring. Figures. Katsuki's first thought was a definite 'No', a tutoring session was how all of this had started, and he'd be damned if a tutoring session made it all go to shit again. But, the discomfort in his chest, the one that he had come to expect every time he laid eyes on Kirishima... for the first time in a long time, it didn't happen. At all. No speeding heartbeat, no burning, no churning or twisting or anything. Just that static in his mind.
Huh.
Maybe… maybe a tutoring session with Kirishima wasn't such a bad idea? Maybe, this was just the opportunity that he needed to test the strength of his medicine. Not to mention that maybe, if he got more used to Kirishima's presence, seeing him in class or in training wouldn't throw him off guard as much. Maybe, he could avoid future incidences, especially ones that Aizawa could hear about. Plus, he had literally nothing better to do.
So Katsuki shrugged, "Whatever." He turned on his heel, leaving the door open behind him. "Just don't piss me off by getting distracted by cat videos again."
"Come on, that was one time!" Kirishima laughed, boldly following him into the room.
Thus, their studying began. At first, it felt like nothing was wrong, like none of this roses bullshit had happened. It was a small taste, a slight reminder of normalcy. Even after nearly an hour and a half of drilling equations and talking through word problems, there was not a single sign of the petals.
Just the static.
Kirishima had more-or-less gotten a hang of the material, so they were about to wrap things up. But, as the guy was gathering his things to head back to his room, he hesitated.
"Hey, uh. Bakugou?" He began.
Katsuki looked up to him. "Hm?"
"Well… I wasn't going to bring it up again, and maybe I shouldn't, but…" He turned to Katsuki, slowly meeting his eyes. "Are you... okay?"
And goddamn, he had called it. He knew another conversation like this would happen eventually. Katsuki just pursed his lips. "Yeah…? Should I not be?"
"No, no, not that, it's just…" Kirishima's shoulders fell in some sort of defeat. "I dunno, it's probably stupid but, I've been worried about you a lot lately."
"Why?"
"Just a week or two ago, you were acting all funny. You kept leaving classes, and training. You didn't look too well, you apparently got so sick that you had to go home, when we have Recovery Girl here! I was… super concerned." Kirishima shrugged, but he went quiet, as if waiting for an answer.
Katsuki didn't want to respond. Maybe it was that he couldn't respond, he didn't know. But regardless, his silence only encouraged Kirishima to speak more.
"For a while there you weren't talking to me either, or to anyone else," The redhead scratched at his chin. "Which, I suppose isn't too unusual for you, but it almost seemed like you were avoiding me. You haven't been training that much, most of the time Mr. Aizawa won't even let you. Even today, these past few hours, you... you haven't been acting like yourself."
"So?" Katsuki managed to grumble out. "It's not your business."
"But as your bro, I'm making it my business." The look on his face was determined, resolute, but his voice was so soft. "What happened? Is… is there something wrong?"
Katsuki could only stare blankly at him. He didn't have to answer, he knew that. He had never told anyone before, he didn't want to every have to. But the room was so quiet, filled with Kirishima's worry nearly palpable in the air. It was so much. Katsuki closed his eyes, let out a slow breath.
"I'm sick," he answered plainly, voice breaking for just a moment. "Really sick."
"Oh." Kirishima froze at that, his lips downturned, eyebrows creased in concern. "…Is it serious?" he finally managed to ask in a low whisper. "Like… just how 'really sick' are we talking here?"
"It's whatever. It'll go away."
"Oh." Kirishima blinked.
Katsuki's nonchalance seemed to simultaneously relieve and and perplex him. The blond had hoped it had be enough to ease his curiosity, but with the way Kirishima was lingering, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, he could just tell that he had created more questions than answers. Questions that he didn't want to talk about. So he stay put, sitting in his chair, watching his fidgeting fingers. Waiting for Kirishima to take his cue to leave.
"Bakugou…" Kirishima began, and it suddenly struck Katsuki just how close they were. How close their shoulders were to brushing against each other. " We've been through a lot together, right?"
That they had. Katsuki thought back to the USJ. Back to the training camp. Back to his rescue from the villains. Memories that used to fill him up with emotions, so many that it was overwhelming. Frustration at not being able to overcome on his own. Relief at being saved. The feeling like he had finally found someone he could rely on, and confide in, for the first time in his life. It was all replaced by static.
"And after all of that..." Kirishima was searching his eyes. Searching his soul. "You do know I care about you, right?"
He could only shrug. The static in his head was jarring, overwhelming all of his other emotions. Why was it there? Why did it feel like he was losing something?
"Now, I don't know exactly what you're going through, and you don't have to tell me or anything. But, I want to help you if I can. Is there anything I can do?"
Stay away, his mind was screaming at him to answer. Stay far away from me so I don't have to deal with any of that shit ever again.
But his mouth mumbled something different. "Don't bother." Somehow, Katsuki managed to break the hypnotizing gaze, effectively breaking whatever private moment had formed between them. "The medicine's already working."
He slid his chair back, standing out of it and walking to put his textbook back on his bookshelf.
"Well that's… uh, good, isn't it?" Kirishima chirped up from behind him. "I'm glad. If you're alright, then that's all that matters!"
Katsuki still wasn't looking at him, but he practically could hear the smile that formed on the guy's lips. He couldn't hear if it was genuine or not.
Even though they had been so close, even with the words that Kirishima was saying, there still wasn't a speeding heartbeat. There wasn't the burning, or the churning, or the twisting, or anything. Just static.
Just numb.
Katsuki felt numb.
That Friday, their class was working with All Might. It was one of the first times that they trained with him after Kamino, and it was still strange hearing his distinguished if not more reserved voice coming from such a small form. But that didn't matter. What mattered, was that All Might was letting Katsuki train.
Or rather, when Katsuki joined warm-ups, All Might didn't say that he couldn't. And when he followed the rest of the class out onto the gymnasium floor, All Might didn't hand him a packet of extra schoolwork and demand that he sit in the sidelines. Aizawa wasn't there to correct him, and Katsuki wasn't going to either.
It was the last Friday of the month, anyways – they always did a fun exercise, as if to celebrate a month of hard work. It usually wasn't anything too strenuous, just little competitions and things to keep the class' spirit high. In fact, they were usually pretty dumb, not the type of thing to take seriously. But it wouldn't be anything Katsuki couldn't handle.
As the class waited around for All Might's instructions, someone gave Katsuki's back a large pat. He turned quickly, hands smoking and ready to explode a dumbass. But it was just Kirishima, all smiley and bright. The redhead slung his arms around Katsuki's shoulders.
"Glad you could join us today!" he beamed. "Been a long time coming!"
And a week or so before, something like that would have definitely caused a coughing fit. But, Katsuki felt fine.
So far, so good.
While his classmates were starting to bounce with anticipation, wondering what today's exercise would be, Katsuki was just relieved to even be there. After nearly two weeks of being left and forgotten about at the sidelines, just the thought of finally being able to flex his muscles, and fire off his quirk again, without some fucking petals holding him back… it was liberating.
As they were split randomly into two teams, and as All Might placed foam balls in the center of the court between groups, the rest of the class was so abuzz that All Might had to raise his arms and call for them to quiet down. With several harsh 'shhh's, the students finally calmed down, watching curiously as All Might got this amused glint in his eye. Then, he spoke four little words: "Quirk Dodge-ball. Go!"
And the class erupted into absolute chaos.
And holy shit, this was going to be a fucking mess. But at least it was something Katsuki could be a little excited about. When Katsuki played dodge-ball, he was absolutely ruthless. There was only one winner in dodge-ball, and he would honestly do just about anything to make sure that it was him. And in a version where quirks were allowed...
The first few seconds started out tame enough. Well, as tame as 20 teenagers with superpowers could be when playing a cutthroat match of dodge-ball. But it was in those preliminary few seconds that several were wasting time trying to figure out how to best use their quirks to simultaneously throw and avoid projectiles. But for Katsuki, that came easily enough. He could use his quirk's mobility to dodge, while adding firepower to every throw. Simple. With a strategy already planned out, he was sure to use his opponents' hesitation as an advantage. After gathering his first armful of ammunition, he blasted to the side to dodge an incoming projectile, using his momentum to carry him towards he closest enemy. He swung his arm over-hand and fired.
"Kouda is out! Better luck next match!"
Just like that, 20 seconds into the match, and he had gotten the first kill. And god did it feel good. Finally. Fucking finally.
It didn't take long for the rest of the class to start stepping up their game. As a general rule, Katsuki tried to block everyone else, only focus on his targets, but some of his classmate's quirk uses were admittedly very clever.
Like on the opposing team, the stupid-looking guy with the grapes on his head had managed to stick one of his own teammates to the floor, so she couldn't leave the court even after she got hit, and he started using the her like a shield. At one point, someone was making a literal cannon, which was pretty damn cool, but she was hit right before it was completed. It was too bad, half of Katsuki kinda wanted to see if it would work.
But when Todoroki figured out that he could throw ignited dodge-balls at the other team, it was a total game changer. He wasn't even trying to hit anyone, that bastard was herding them, making it easier for their team to pick off the scattering enemies one by one. That strategy worked pretty solidly for the first half of the game, and Katsuki took advantage of it, managing to hit three more opponents. And the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, the feel of his body exerting itself for the first time in such a long time… it was just a stupid game of dodge-ball, but he felt alive.
But then the icy-hot dumbass let his guard down and somehow, fucking Deku nailed him right in the face. Katsuki would have laughed if it Todoroki hadn't been his own teammate.
It all went downhill from there. The teams had been pretty even up to that point, but without the fireballs raining down on them, the opposing team could actually focus on offense rather than defense. Then, the octopus guy took the opportunity to use all of his hands to throw a ton of dodge-balls at once, wiping out pretty much all of Katsuki's team. The only reason Katsuki had survived was because that invisible girl happened to be standing right in front of him.
And just like that, it was Katsuki versus Octopus Guy, and a few of his remaining cronies.
While the two sides spent a moment catching their breaths, the rest of the class was cheering from the sidelines, so loud and obnoxious that it was starting to give him a splitting headache. Above all, Katsuki could hear Kirishima's voice, wishing him good luck. It was really fucking annoying. Now, he just wanted the game to be over with, he needed to rest. Which was bullshit, it was just dodge-ball and he should not have felt so winded. But that's Hanahaki for ya. If only he could take out octopus guy, who was really fucking huge so it shouldn't have been that difficult a challenge, all he needed was a dodge-ball. But, Katsuki's feet weren't exactly cooperating, and his head was starting to ache.
Octopus guy's remaining teammates were too busy gathering every dodge-ball they could find, and rather than possibly wasting a few shots trying to hit Katsuki, they were handing them off to their teammate, who was taking one in each hand, and shit it was time to dodge.
In a split second, Katsuki followed his gut instinct and blasted to the air, explosions from alternating hands keeping him balanced and off the ground. It was a good thing the ceiling was so high, all the more room to maneuver. It seemed like a good idea at first – this way, he could move faster in a larger area, making himself a lot harder to hit. And it did work at first - the first three attempts to hit him were unsuccessful. But as the cheers from his classmates got louder and louder, the headache would not go away. In fact, it seemed like the more he moved around, propelling through the air, the more light-headed he felt. He tried to ignore it, push it to the back of his mind, focus on dodging, holding out until they ran out of ammunition, his sights set on victory.
But then came the fourth brutal attack, coming straight toward him, and he positioned his hands underneath him, shooting himself upwards to get out of the way, going nearly as high as he could go, and that set his head spinning. Something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, up felt down, left felt right, the dizziness, the disorientation, it was too much, he couldn't get his bearings, the room spinning so quickly that he felt like he would actually be sick to his stomach.
There was only the feeling of flying, then the feeling of falling, the sounds of concerned shouts from somewhere far away, growing louder and closer with each millisecond. With eyes squeezed shut, Katsuki could only surround his head with his arms, tucking his legs to his chest, brace himself for an impact that he knew was coming.
He felt himself collide, felt his body skid across the floor. He felt his bones creak, muscles shake, head pounding and pounding and pounding.
And the world faded to black.
