He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not
The thing about hunching over all undignified, coughing up bullshit flower petals into a toilet in some bathroom stall, is that, generally, it's supposed to be a pretty private affair. It's draining. Confusing. Downright humiliating. Not something to show the world. And definitely not something to be interrupted.
But apparently, Half-n-Half didn't get the fucking memo. That bastard.
There he stood, drenched in sweat from what must have been his own workout, just… staring. His expression was so devoid of emotion that it was downright freaky, eyes not hesitating to stare into Katsuki's like the guy was trying to read him. And for several moments, Katsuki could only stare back, frozen, wide-eyed, horrified. It felt like his stomach had just dropped away.
"Leave," he finally managed to croak out.
Todoroki's head tilted. He took a step forward. "Bakugou—?"
"—Leave." Katsuki's voice erupted into a snarl, and for a moment, he tried to scramble to his feet, legs shaking, palms already beginning to smoke even as they pressed against the toilet seat for leverage. "Get out, you bastard! I'll—"
But before any semblance of a threat could cross his lips, before his quirk could fully ignite, another wave of coughing overcame him. He sank back to his knees as he hacked, bringing fingers to his lips a moment too late, unable to stop the petals that fell out between them. They fluttered down his front, one by one, deep scarlet piling on the tile floor.
Todoroki watched them fall curiously, eyebrows raised in surprise, and Katsuki wanted to wanted to yell, shout out curses at the world, but the roses wouldn't let choked back his words, restraining him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. With a snap of his head, he lurched back over the toilet as even more petals forced their way out.
Katsuki's body continued to riot against the flowers with all of his strength, leaving his arms shaking, chest heaving, head swimming. It had never been this bad before. He had fucked up. His body just wanted to give out, give up. Along with the floral scent was a new taste tingeing the back of his tongue, sharp, metallic, blood.
Shit.
He had fucked up big time.
His eyelids were screwed shut so tight that swirls of white were starting to dance behind them, and he was only vaguely aware of a figure – fucking Todoroki, he reminded himself bitterly – approaching him, lowering to his level, a hand patting awkwardly against his back, as if that was going to help a single fucking Katsuki wanted nothing more than to fight against it, wanted nothing more than to be left to deal with this in peace. But his body was trembling so much, making him weak, and he couldn't do a single fucking thing about it.
With several quick gasps for air, the petals finally petered out. Katsuki watched as a string of saliva dripped from his mouth, red mixing with the clear, the strong taste of blood still lingering on his tongue. He inhaled as deeply as he dared, feigning black-out, before sitting back on his heels. But even that was too much effort, so finally, he collapsed to sitting, leaning his back against the stall wall, eyes shut as he just breathed, allowing the silence to settle around them.
And then, Katsuki wanted to laugh. Because that nosy bastard was still there, kneeling right next to him, probably still watching him like some fucking creep. Would he disgusted? Just plain confused? This was already shaping up to be one of the shittiest situations in his entire life, but at least he had one thing to look forward to. The look on Todoroki's usually vacant face was sure to be fucking priceless.
But when Todoroki finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly composed. "Do you have medicine?"
He sounded much too close. Katsuki growled in warning. Stay back.
"Bakugou," Todoroki tried again, a hint of irritation coloring his otherwise monotone voice. "Surely you take medicine or something, where is it?"
Honestly, of all the questions Katsuki had been expecting, that had definitely not been one of them. But, Todoroki was a guy of few words, relatively speaking. Maybe, through his disgust and confusion, he still managed to select the most essential ones.
But when Katsuki opened his eyes, coming face-to-face with a kneeling Todoroki, the guy didn't look disgusted. He didn't look confused. His eyes weren't bugging out of his skull. There was no gaping fish mouth, or lip upturned in repulsion. He didn't even look entirely surprised. In his eyes was only worry. And it was so goddamn unsatisfying, what the fuck was up with this guy?
"Don't have any," Katsuki grunted, looking away.
"Why not?"
"Threw 'em away."
When at first no response came, Katsuki stole a glance in Todoroki's direction. Todoroki was just staring at him, again, like it was the only thing he was good for.
"… What are you, an idiot?" The guy finally mumbled, monotone, a sigh the only sign of what must have been exasperation.
And that should have made Katsuki's blood absolutely boil. And it did, a little bit, but what he had done was really fucking stupid, and he knew it. So he only snorted, closing his eyes again as he leaned his head back against the stall.
He didn't owe an explanation to anyone, much less to this nosy icy-hot bastard.
His head was still swimming, pounding.
"They were fucking with my brain." Katsuki cleared his throat. "They made me dizzy, made me fall. So I flushed them. I wasn't gonna train on that shit."
"That's only going to make things worse, you know."
"Go to hell."
For a moment, silence surrounded them again. Then, with a grunt, Todoroki began to move, and Katsuki realized he was standing. Was… was he actually leaving? The toilet flushed, taking the petals with it, but even over the rushing water, Katsuki could sense that Todoroki wasn't going anywhere.
"Come on," Todoroki finally spoke. "Let's go to Recovery Girl."
Katsuki creaked his eyes open, focusing on the hand that was reaching down to him. As if he was going to take it or something.
He swatted the hand away.
Almost immediately, there was a strong, cold grip on his bicep, trying to pull him to his feet. "Don't be stubborn, get up."
"Stop fucking manhandling me."
"I'll stop manhandling you when you get up. I'm not leaving you on the bathroom floor."
Katsuki scowled. It was humiliating, because dammit, Todoroki was strong. But, as much as he did not want to take Todoroki's hand, just a few minutes ago he had been coughing up blood. He had his pride, sure, but Katsuki wasn't stupid, and he needed to go to the nurse. Honestly, though, even with help, he wasn't sure he would be able to stand on his own without his legs collapsing underneath him. He was in no state to fight this, and he knew it. So, he gave in.
As soon as he stopped resisting, Todoroki's grip slacked, just a bit. He tugged on Katsuki's arm, Katsuki using his other hand to push himself off of the tiles. By keeping his back against the stall, he could use it as extra support as he stood on his wobbly legs. His head was swimming, lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but he was on his feet.
Todoroki slung Katsuki's arm around his shoulders, and the two of them slowly exited the stall. After leading them to the sinks, Todoroki turnedon a faucet. He didn't say a word, but Katsuki understood. He cupped his free hand under the running water and brought it to his lips, swishing it around before spitting it out water was stained light pink, bright against the porcelain. The metallic taste in his mouth had abated, just a bit. He took another palm-full and gulped it down, giving his throat some much-needed relief. With water dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt, Katsuki turned off the faucet, giving a slight nod. He was ready to go on.
They walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway side by side. Todoroki was several centimeters taller than him, which made their position feel all the more awkward, and the hand pressing harshly into his waist to keep him upright was definitely not appreciated. It was a slow process, slower than it needed to be, but it seemed like Todoroki wasn't willing to take any chances. And frankly, neither was Katsuki. The last thing he wanted to do was faint.
As they passed the training rooms, Katsuki couldn't help but steal a glance through their windows. Kirishima was already gone. That was probably for the best. Kirishima wouldn't have to see him like this.
They continued out of the training facilities and onto the main quad, making their way towards the academic building that lay only a couple of yards away. Katsuki scanned the area swiftly, following a few far-away students as they roamed the campus. It was after classes, but not quite dinner yet, so there were few students outside – most importantly, none that he recognized. No one to witness him in this hopeless, pathetic state. They entered the academic building without incident.
There was still no denying how embarrassing this all was, but as much as he hated relying on the guy like some sort of weakling, at least Todoroki stayed quiet. Todoroki didn't ask questions. The same could probably not be said for most of his other classmates. And for that, Katsuki couldn't help but feel just a tiny bit… thankful.
By the time he and Todoroki reached the elevator, Katsuki had managed to push himself off of Todoroki's shoulders, settling for a strong grip around the guy's upper arm for support instead. Todoroki made no comment. The entire elevator ride was silent, uncomfortable – Katsuki, too busy sulking and trying to keep the rage that was bubbling inside of him in check, and Todoroki, too busy keeping to himself. Who knew what he was thinking about?
After one final stretch of hallway, the two finally reached the nurse's office. Todoroki brought his knuckles to the door, rapping firmly against it.
"Come in," Recovery Girl's voice called out. Todoroki slid the door open just as she began swiveling around in her chair. "What can I help you with…?" She trailed off, eyes settling on Katsuki. "Oh dear."
"He was coughing up petals, and blood." Todoroki's voice was urgent, but unwavering. Far more composed than he had any right to be in this situation.
Recovery Girl let out a long, resigned sigh. "I feared something like this would happen. Did you forget to take your medicine this morning?"
Before Katsuki even had a chance to open his mouth, Todoroki cut him off. "Said he threw them away."
With eyebrows raised, Recovery Girl let out a tutting sound. "Set him down on a cot. And, stick around. I may need you."
Todoroki nodded, maneuvering the two of them as best he could across the room and dropped Katsuki off on the edge of the mattress before taking his seat in the visitor's chair.
After donning rubber gloves, Recovery Girl rolled her swivel chair over, inserting a stethoscope into her ears and motioning for Katsuki to turn around. He did as best as he could, sitting at an angle so his back was mostly to her. She reached under his shirt and the cold circle of the stethoscope against his back sent chills up and down his spine.
"Breathe deeply."
He did as she said.
"Good." She moved the stethoscope a few inches to the right. "And again…"
Between his breaths, she repositioned the stethoscope several more times. Katsuki could feel how his breathing was shaky, strained. Shallow. No doubt she could tell. After a few more movements, she pulled his shirt down. Katsuki turned to face her again.
"What were you doing that set it off?"
No use lying. "Sparring."
"With who?"
Katsuki shuddered. There was a memory, red hair, a bright face looming over him, imagination spiraling out of control, pressing lips against his, lips that had been so close before, and in an instant, Katsuki's breath caught in his throat. The squeezing in his chest returned, the sickening scent tickling the back of his throat. He nearly doubled over, coughing into his inner elbow. The petals came out, scarlet tainting scarlet, mouth filled with the flavor of roses and a tinge of blood.
Recovery Girl observed him closely. There was something knowing in her eyes. "Todoroki, could you please pass Bakugou the box of tissues on my desk?"
Todoroki obliged immediately. Katsuki glared as he approached, grabbing the box from his hands, watching Todoroki return to his seat before wiping up his petals.
"To be clear, blood is not a good sign," Recovery Girl explained. "Could just be all that coughing rubbing your throat raw… or, it could be internal damage from the rose thorns. And after hearing your breathing, I think it's the later. They've gotten out of control." She hopped down from her seat and approached the cot. "Sit still, let me heal you."
Katsuki did as he was told, sat still while she pecked his forehead. No matter how humiliating it was, he couldn't deny that she had an amazing quirk. He could actually feel some hidden stinging in his chest lighten up. Not long after, a wave of exhaustion overcame him.
"Feel better?"
He looked away, nodding.
"Good." She returned to her chair. "Now, why did you throw out your medicine?"
"It was messing with my training."
"Hanahaki is messing with your training," Recovery Girl corrected flatly. She rolled to her computer and began typing away at her keyboard, filling in what must have been some sort of a report. "Is today the first time the petals returned?"
"Yeah."
She nodded. "When was the last time you took anything?"
"About a week ago."
Her typing came to an abrupt halt. After a beat, she turned slowly to him.
"You've been off your medication for a week."
Her words were slow. Deliberate. It didn't sound like a question, either, yet it seemed like she was waiting for an answer.
So Katsuki just dropped his shoulders. Gave a little shrug. "Yeah."
Recovery Girl's lips pursed into a thin line. "You should never do something like that. Medicines are chemicals that affect your body, and to take that away… it can do some serious harm."
Katsuki looked at the floor, fists clenched in his lap. He knew it had been a fucking stupid move. He knew that, dammit.
Recovery Girl just let out another long sigh. "I can't say I'm entirely surprised. Only surprised you didn't have to come and see me sooner." She finished typing a few last notes onto her computer before reaching out and taking her phone in her hand. "I will call your parents, and your doctor, so they are aware of the situation. They'll be the ones to decide what to do about your treatment."
Whatever conversations she had to have, must have been conversations that she did not want Katsuki to hear, for in a matter of moments Recovery Girl had stood out of her chair and crossed the room, sliding the door open then shut behind her. Leaving Todoroki and Katsuki entirely alone.
The silence that surrounded them became uncomfortable in a single instant. It crept under Katsuki's skin, made him seethe, made him want to fight or flee. He looked down at his hands in his lap, clenching his fists until his fingernails left little crescents indented into his palms.
Looking for a distraction from it all, Katsuki slid into the cot, his back against the wall, looking at literally anything other than that half-n-half bastard. It was that guy's fault he was even here in the first place, a growling part of his brain insisted. But Katsuki knew that wasn't the truth. It was his own damn fault. Of course it was, he'd have to be a fucking idiot to think otherwise. But that didn't mean he had to be happy about Todoroki being there either.
They sat in this absolute quiet for what must have been several minutes, the faint sound of Recovery Girl's phone calls drifting into the room.
"Why the fuck are you even still here?" He finally piped up. The aggravation was nearly palpable.
For a while, there was no response. Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki could only see Todoroki's still form, his steadfast gaze staring straight through him. Watching. Thinking. Why wasn't he answering? Why was he always so damn quiet? On one hand, it was a fucking blessing, it would have been worse if the guy was talkative. But in this moment, with all the questions that were no doubt racing around that guy's head, Katsuki would rather get it over with than sit in silent, hair-pulling anticipation.
Finally, Todoroki shifted in his seat. Swallowed a lump in his throat.
"It's Kirishima, isn't it?"
Katsuki's eyes widened. He lurched forward, bringing a hand to his mouth, and no matter how much he tried to push it down, it wasn't long before he was hacking the petals out of his lungs again.
"What the fuck, Todoroki?" He wheezed out between coughs.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him up."
At least there wasn't blood this time. As coughing fit finally passed, Katsuki rested his forehead against his palms and just let himself breathe for a few moments. When it felt like air had sufficiently returned to him, he ripped a few tissues from their box, cleaning what petals had fluttered about. With one well-aimed shot, the tissues landed in the waste basket by Recovery Girl's desk before resting against the metal headboard again.
Okay, that time had definitely been Todoroki's fault. That fucker. Katsuki clenched his jaw, folding his arms across his chest, settling for looking out the window. As Katsuki watched the sun as it sank lower and lower in the sky with each minute that passed, silence surrounded them once more. And he thought.
And the more Katsuki thought, the more questions he needed answers for. It began as a small itch of curiosity, but it blossomed into something unavoidable. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, allowing his raspy voice to carry around the room.
"How do you know?"
At first, there was only the sound of Recovery Girl's muffled voice through the doorway. Maybe Todoroki was surprised that he had spoken at all. But then there was a shifting in a chair, followed by a clear voice.
"You two have been through a lot together. There's no one else it could be—"
"—No." Katsuki turned to Todoroki, his stare steadfast, his eyes burning. "How do you know?"
For a split second, Todoroki's eyes widened. It was quickly replaced by his typical expression, and he stared back, his face blank. But Katsuki had seen it, how caught off-guard he had been. He noticed the way Todoroki had straightened in his chair, had swallowed a lump in his throat. The guy had given himself away – he was nervous.
Their gazes did not waver for quite a while, like they were in some sort of a stand-off. Finally, Todoroki opened his mouth, as if to respond.
Just then, the door slid open, and the tension released its hold on them. Todoroki broke eye contact, watching Recovery Girl as she made her way to her chair.
"Your father will be on his way shortly, and until this is resolved, you'll be staying at home." She took a seat and turned to Todoroki. "Thank you for bringing him in, and for watching after him. I can take it from here. You may return to your dorm."
Todoroki stood to his feet quickly – too quickly – giving her a curt nod before walking to the door. Katsuki couldn't help but stare after him, his mind a whirl of confusion and shock and the frustration of too many things left unanswered.
Recovery Girl sighed, watching as the door slid shut. "You are very lucky that it was Todoroki who found you." Her words were slow, deliberate. "Otherwise, you would have had a lot more explaining to do."
"… He knows what this is." It wasn't a question.
Recovery Girl rolled to her desk, forgoing a reply.
Katsuki looked to her sharply, brows furrowed. "How?" he demanded. "I thought it was supposed to be rare."
As if blatantly ignoring him, Recovery Girl began typing again. And it was so frustrating, the feeling like he was being kept in the dark. He looked back down to his lap. He just wanted to understand.
After a moment, the computer clicking paused, and Recovery Girl's voice cut heavily through the quiet.
"Two people, in close proximity of each other, developing the same rare condition… it seems statistically unlikely. And it would be, if the condition develops randomly. But, sometimes, there are factors that influence susceptibility, and certain populations are at greater risk of developing certain conditions. Hanahaki Disorder is no different."
The way she said it, expression solemn, with an air of finality, made it seem like that was all she had to say on the matter. But there were still things Katsuki needed to know. Things he needed to be certain of.
"What factors?" He tried again, struggling to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice. "What are you trying to tell me?"
"I'm afraid, UA's carelessness has put our students at greater risk."
The following silence pounded against his eardrums, brain on overdrive, trying to digest this new information. He still didn't know what it all meant, but he had a sinking suspicion, one that made his stomach plummet, and a part of Katsuki felt like he was beginning to understand more about his icy-hot classmate than he had ever wanted to. But another part of him was left with more questions than answers, and the frustration of uncertainty just kept eating away at him.
Recovery Girl spoke again, dragging Katsuki out of his shell-shocked reverie.
"I assume that your condition is being triggered by one of your classmates?"
The way she paused, looking to him, it was as if she was waiting for affirmation. But Katsuki couldn't say it, couldn't nod. Affirmation would be admittance, and he couldn't admit it, not even to himself. Not yet. So he just stared straight ahead.
"That complicates things, quite a bit," she continued, seeming to take his silence as confirmation anyways.
Katsuki let out a sigh, letting his eyelids flutter closed. "So what happens now?"
"Are you asking me about your treatment?"
He nodded.
"Well, that will ultimately be for you and your parents to decide with your doctor. A more long-term option would be a surgical procedure to remove the flowers, but there have been so few patients that not much is known about its effects. In this way, it's risky and unpredictable. When I spoke with them on the phone, neither your doctor nor your parents were too keen on it – and frankly, neither am I."
"Then what else is there?" He couldn't help but clench his jaw, his words pressing between his teeth. "There has to be something."
"I have suggested a lower dosage of your previous medication. The side effects won't be as strong, but that means the medicine itself won't as effective either. The petals would be subdued, but they may not go away entirely."
"So I'm just, supposed to live with the petals?"
"That might be all you can do. The only other option would be removing you from the trigger." Recovery Girl leaned back in her chair. "Even if you are put back on medication, it's quite likely that your doctor or UA faculty will decide that the best course of action moving forwards is to move you to Class 1B."
The words engraved themselves into his mind, repeating, echoing, until they didn't even feel real anymore.
Class 1B.
Katsuki ducked his head, heart absolutely sinking. He scrunched his eyes shut.
"Your father should be here within the hour. Until then, you best get some rest."
The ride home was awfully quiet.
His dad wasn't usually the type of guy who would let awkward silences last, he'd rather ramble on about nothing just to hear his voice fill empty space. So it was really fucking freaky to not hear a single word from him, but oddly enough, he kept his mouth shut. It was a relief, really. There was too much thinking to do anyways.
The scenery whizzed past them, but it faded into the background. There was only the vague sense of scenery becoming more and more familiar as they approached home.
Home.
In a way, home was a relief too. No Kirishima, who had no idea what he did to Katsuki. No Todoroki, who knew all too much. But, on the other hand, he was just falling more and more behind, wasn't he? He should be in class. Should be training. He wanted to be a hero, and he would never give up on that, but taking pit stops every week or two was only going to make things harder.
And, Class other hero course. That shouldn't have mattered, it really shouldn't have. Class 1B was just as much a part of the UA Hero Course as Class 1A. Wasn't like he knew all of his current classmates anyways. He just needed to change dorms, get his new schedule. It wasn't that big of a deal.
But, the way his stomach had dropped, the way the utter dejection had rendered him feeling hopeless… the way he wanted to yell and shout in objection, the way he was willing to do just about whatever it would take to stop that from happening…
It did matter. It mattered a lot.
A small voice in his head wondered why. But, he knew why.
Finally, they pulled into the driveway, and it started to sink in, just what was coming for him. The drive had just been the calm before a storm. What was sure to be a very large, very angry storm.
Sure enough, as Katsuki toed off his shoes and stepped out of the genkan, the storm reared its head.
"Katsuki!"
His mother immediately looked up from where she was seated at the kitchen table. She stood to her feet quickly and rushed across the room to them. For a moment, her eyes were wide, almost lost. They searched Katsuki's face, as if making sure he was all there and that he was alright. Katsuki had only seen her look like that twice before, as if she just wanted to embrace him and all of that sappy shit. It wasn't like her.
But then, her eyebrows drew together, her distress giving way to rage.
"And just what sort of bullshit were you trying to pull?"
He kept his eyes low, his lips pulled back in a snarl as he pushed past her. "Leave me alone."
"Not until I have answers," she called after him, hot on his tail. "I can't believe you would do something so irresponsible, something so reckless. It was dangerous, when we got the call from the nurse I was worried sick. What the fuck were you thinking?"
Katsuki tried blocking out her nagging, but she was so damn loud and his blood was boiling already. If he couldn't try blocking her out mentally, he just had to try something else. Some sort of a distraction. If it annoyed her, that was even better. So instead of locking himself in his room, Katsuki headed straight towards the living room, petulantly grabbing the remote and turning on the news before plopping down on the couch. His mother groaned from behind him.
"Mitsuki," he heard dad's voice carry faintly over the newscasters, "Maybe we should give him some space…"
"He needs to take some fucking responsibility first. An explanation, at the very least!"
Katsuki rolled his eyes. Turned up the volume.
That did nothing to stop his mother. She marched into the room, standing between him and the TV. "Why did you stop taking your medicine in the first place? Why would you throw it out? Where is it now?"
"In the sewers," he gritted out from between his teeth, "Where garbage like that belongs."
"What?" his mom practically shrieked.
Katsuki turned up the volume more, until he started to hear base frequencies rumble in his chest.
"Nope, no siree, we're talking about this right now. Turn that off."
She stormed to the television and pressed the power button, turning to him, brows furrowed in both anger and confusion. He blinked up at her.
After a moment, she placed a hand on her hip and sighed. "Katsuki, why the fuckwould you throw your medicine away? You know it's supposed to help you, right?"
"Fucking obviously." He leaned back in the couch, pouting, waiting for the cushions to swallow him right up. "I'm not an idiot."
"See, you do know, yet you stopped taking it anyways." She brought her fingers to her temple, rubbing whatever headache she must have had there. "Is this… I don't know, one of those problem-with-authority things? Teenage rebellion? A way to disillusion yourself into thinking that you have control over the disorder? Something like that?"
He let out a huff, head shaking in disbelief. He hated when his mom tried to psychoanalyze him.
With another groan, she waved her arms around in frustration, "Then I just, don't understand why you'd do something like that. There's gotta to be a reason, right? …Right?"
She looked desperately to the space behind Katsuki – where his dad must have been – as if asking for help. He heard his dad clear his throat.
"You're a smart kid, Katsuki." He slowly stepped into Katsuki's line of vision. "I know you are, I tell you that all the time." His dad's voice was calm, but his body was rigid. Stressed. Completely out of his element. "And, your mother's right. Doing something like that without a good reason just doesn't sound like you." He sat down next to Katsuki on the couch, letting out a long, resigned sigh as he did. "We just want to understand."
Katsuki didn't acknowledge him. Either of them, not even while they were waiting for him to respond. He couldn't, not for some time. Not when there was finally some peace and quiet. He just stared straight ahead, jaw gritted, leg bouncing. It was better that way. He didn't have to look at the disappointment on their faces.
Finally, he let in a slow breath. "It made me dizzy," he mumbled.
His dad was the first to speak up. "Dizzy?"
Katsuki nodded. "Some inner ear thing. When I fell, that was the medicine's fault. They wouldn't let me train."
There was more. Of course there was, but he didn't want to say it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his dad nod, satisfied with the answer, and that was a relief.
But his mom just brought her hand to her chin, deep in thought. She paced the floor, something she always had done to help her work through problems.
"That still doesn't make sense to me," she started slowly, and Katsuki let out a grunt, because of course that wasn't good enough for her. She was too damn good at reading him. "If the side-effects were bothering you that much, you still should have talked to Dr. Yamakawa. Stopping anything cold-turkey is dangerous, I know you know that."
"Of course I know that," Katsuki rolled his eyes, set his jaw. He wasn't just take her talking to him like an idiot. He gathered up all of the frustration, all of the attitude, all of the sass that he could muster. "What if I just didn't want to take the medicine?"
His mom leaned on one hip, arms crossed. Her eyebrow arched. "Mhm? Why wouldn't you?"
"That's easy, I wanted to piss you off specifically."
"Nice try, smartass."
With a growl, he stood to his feet, facing her head on. "I'm a stupid, ungrateful brat who takes things for granted."
"Except I know you aren't! There has got to be something else going on, something you aren't telling us, why else would you —"
"Oh, I don't fucking know, maybe I just honest-to-fucking-God didn't want to take it! Fucking sue me."
"But why not? What's the point in that?"
"I told you, I couldn't train on that shit!"
"Well clearly, you can't train off that shit either, so what you're saying doesn't make any sense—"
"—Because I couldn't feel anything anymore!"
In an instant, the tension between them shattered, leaving only silence. There the two stood, staring at each other, chests rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.
His mother's rage dropped from her face. In its place was only confusion.
"… What?"
He couldn't look at it. He screwed his eyes shut, his breaths becoming shaky.
"I couldn't feel, at all," the broken words tumbled out of his mouth, just as uncontrollable as the petals, bearing it all, "Couldn't feel, not for anything, not for him, I…"
His body was trembling. He wouldn't say it.
"Katsuki…" His mom's voice was soft. Patient. She didn't usually sound like that. He heard her step towards him. "What's wrong?"
"I…" He shook his head, tears starting to sting at his waterline. He couldn't say it.
There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong, Katsuki?"
"I…" He tried again, his broken voice hitching in his throat. His jaw wobbled. "I…"
He creaked his eyes open, lifted his head until he met his mother's eyes.
And finally, his tears started to fall.
Arms wrapped around him, holding him close, but he couldn't feel them. There were whispers, soft words of comfort in his ears, but he couldn't hear them. There was a scent in his nose, a squeezing in his lungs, petals falling all around him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. They didn't hurt. Not compared to the hopelessness he felt.
Because, it was hopeless. He knew it was, he had known all along, since the very beginning.
'A person who is susceptible to developing Hanahaki Disorder is someone who experiences a deep love that is unrequited.'
Unrequited.
And why would Kirishima love someone like him?
