TW:
- explicit descriptions of trauma, depression etc
- referenced abuse from a parent
- mentions mild descriptions of blood throughout
- described panic attack:
stop reading at "It was too much, his head was throbbing"
start reading again at "Broken sobs wracked the boy's body" (skipped 9 paragraphs)
- described self-harm:
stop reading at "Shaking fingers tightly gripped a thorn"
start reading again at "Broken sobs wracked the boy's body" (skipped 4 paragraphs)
Katsuki Bakugo always hated his mother.
Sometimes with his whole heart, other times as little as a thorn digging into his side, always reminding him. As the years flew by, there seemed to be more thorns, more hatred winding around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter as the blood began to drain from it. Each comment from her, each slap over the head, each glare planted a new thorn, one more out of hundreds decorating miles and miles of skin, what was once a dull pain was now an unbearable hell of which he could never escape from.
Yet still, there was a small part of him that held love for her. Still a small part of him that collected happy memories like they were gold, holding them gently, keeping them safe and hidden away from prying eyes who just didn't understand, away from the never-ending vines that continued to grow and grow. Delicately tucked away deep down, surrounded by walls, love never saw light, didn't get any more than a quick glance during sleepless nights, but it didn't matter, love was safe, love couldn't be tainted like he was.
However, love wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for forgiveness, it couldn't pluck out any thorns, there were no words love could whisper to convince Katsuki to visit his parents. Any thoughts of doing so were quickly tossed aside, the heavy ache in his chest always reminding him it was easier to hate her than to love her.
But oh, why didn't he listen to love's sweet whispers in the dead of night, their warm embrace as they pulled out golden memories that cast the room in an even more golden light. Images of his younger self stared back at him, the sound of children laughing sounded like they were taunting him, poking at his thorns with their unscarred hands, it hurt but he couldn't bring himself to stop them, so he stared. He didn't know at what, but he stared and he thought of his younger self, the one who only had a few thorns hidden away under layers of clothes and big dreams, dreams to be a hero.
Someone who always wins, no matter what. That's what Katsuki did, always won. Always the top of the class, always above his peers, that's how things had to be, that's what he was told he was, a winner.
So why, why did he feel as if he was always losing? He was the best, but a hero shouldn't- couldn't have all these vines, all these thorns engulfing them and slowly morphing them into the monster they were always destined to be. He didn't want to become a monster, maybe if he removed all these thorns, it'd be like they were never there, he could carry on without the weight of them slowing him down.
Katsuki refused to be a monster, but this hell had become home. What would be left if they were gone? Would there be anything left? They could be torn out, leaving him bleeding, oozing out blood, but what next? What was under all this pain and hatred? Katsuki feared that all that would remain is a child holding the last remnants of what innocence it had left like a lifeline.
It was fine, the thorns could stay clinging to him. It was better than facing the truth of the empty husk that he really was. The weak, vulnerable child with a bleeding heart he really was.
And so, more walls were built, stretching up to the sky where the only company were the stars that painted pictures with their death, and as Katsuki gazed up at them from the dirt, the blood that consumed him felt like paint drying on a canvas he couldn't see. Scattered thorns looked like stars sprinkled across his skin even when they formed into a protective piece over him and acted as a warning sign for anyone who dared get too close and given the chance to plant another thorn into his flesh.
Blood trickled out of a fresh wound onto the comfort of a double-edged lie.
A shark-toothed redhead ignored these warnings. Instead deciding to edge closer and closer, emitting warm rays of light from an even warmer smile and oh, did Katsuki bathe in it, he let the light caress his scarred skin oh so tenderly, so full of care, so full of love; he did not care nor notice as more cracks formed in his carefully constructed walls, not when red eyes pierced through them to see beneath the façade. The colour red had never looked so beautiful.
Never before did he believe that the person under the thorns was capable of being loved, especially so tenderly by someone who could put the sun itself to shame. Eijirou felt like a sunrise that painted stories in the sky, so many different colours yet they blended together so perfectly you wouldn't dare question it. Eijirou sounded like hushed whispers sharing secrets like sweets under a blanket, creating a world of their own.
Lingering stares floated around Katsuki's mind, the red painted on his eyelids reminded him less of blood and more of eyes glazed in sweet honey trailing over him, a gentle angel who never asked about hidden scars, just offered a smile and a hand to hold in the dark. Their fingers slotted together so perfectly, like they were destined to intertwine. And who was Katsuki to go against fate?
But fate always has another plan. That plan came in the form of some disease Katsuki couldn't even remember the name of, only that it made his mom look lifeless, her youthful skin now a sickly yellow and her frame so frail, left as only a shadow of who she once was.
He should've visited. But he thought she'd be fine, she had to be fine, she was starting to look a little better now, no longer coughing up blood and bound to her bed, she was fine. Katsuki didn't need to visit, it's not like he wanted to anyway, he hated her, he wanted her dead.
Mitsuki Bakugo was a walking reminder of the thorns that scarred Katsuki, that hag had ruined his life.
One fall.
It took one fall to bring the whole world down on him.
For a while, he didn't know he was drowning. He just lay limp as he was submerged underwater, eyes fixated on the surface getting further out of reach. It was oddly peaceful down there, the ache in his chest weighing him down felt right. Like it was meant to be.
And when Katsuki realized he was drowning, he'd already surrendered himself to the water.
Dark bags painted themselves under his eyes, ready to catch guilty tears that slipped out when he least expected. Darkness loomed over him, getting closer as thorns grew and dug deeper into soft flesh, blood formed branches in the water and clouded Katsuki's vision. Surrounded by blood and water, day and night became one and the same, time a distant memory no longer in motion.
He begged for the water to wash away his sins, to cleanse him of the guilt that stuck to him like glue. Words said behind backs and angry faces winded around his heart, squeezing tight, this is what he deserved. A disgusting excuse of a son. A son who shattered like a mirror, leaving hundreds of broken pieces behind, each one telling a different story while the bittersweet truth lay hidden between the cracks.
Despite it all, he still had a small flicker of hope that the stars would look down at it and hold out their hands of comfort; even if it wasn't real, a mirage was better than the truth. If the stars in the sky could forgive then maybe the stars in the dirt could.
But the stars never listened. No matter how bright they shone, they were still dead.
If only he too could shine as he sank in the blood stained water.
But all he would do is rot until all the pieces that made him Katsuki peeled away in layers to leave nothing but a pile of bones.
So he let go.
He let the water invade his lungs in hopes that honey would drip into them and maybe then would his last clean breath be worth something.
Bones weighed him down into a mattress of claws, the only witness to the struggle were the 4 walls surrounding him. Trapped in a blurry haze, the walls sweat, they bled, nothing was the same. Faint sunlight snuck under the curtains but to no avail, no sunlight could ever caress his skin again, not when he was stained with blood and plagued by decade old thorns that made it their goal to destroy.
No one was allowed to get close, not anymore. There's no room for people under the ocean, especially ones so kind. Katsuki puffed up, shot out poisonous words, anything he needed to make them go away, he just wanted to be alone, never to be seen as the monster he fought so hard to get rid of. How could he not see that you can't fight the blood that's inside you?
How could someone feel so heavy yet so empty, like something was missing from his chest, but what? Did he finally break? Crumpled up paper lay to waste in a bin, forgotten assignments collected dust on a desk, any efforts to work to distract himself from this proved to be useless. Fragments of thoughts were flying out, fighting each other, screaming, it was deafening yet deadly silent. The world stopped spinning but it was still spiraling out of control.
She'd never see him become a hero, never watch as he climbed the ranks to chase a dream now within his reach.
Now that it was so close, Katsuki could watch on as it started to wither away right in front of him but he couldn't bring himself to even care anymore. Nothing was worth the effort.
A rumbling stomach reminded of faint memories of the few times he's left his dorms for a while. Only leaving out of necessity to keep his body alive, not really knowing why. The hunger was comforting. It was something else and that was enough, so he let it stay a little longer as company.
Katsuki's body melted into the dirty mattress, he let it swallow him whole and gave up adjusting his blanket that could never quite reach his cold toes no matter how much he stretched it. What was the point anyway?
Any time he looked up, he just fell even deeper.
What was the fucking point.
Walls built themselves higher than the stars could see, his body became a crystal only he was not something beautiful to be cherished but a glorified rock to be laid to waste at the bottom of a lake. Destined for nothing. Destined for no one.
This was what he chose but Katsuki could not help miss how the sun would drown his pale skin in warmth unlike the harsh water that whipped at his fragile bones. He missed how the gold looked on red hair, how it painted across joined hands and honey glazed eyes. Oh, those deep red eyes held the world in them, the stars danced in them like long lost lovers finally meeting again. Oh, he longed to see them just as much as he craved air in his lungs; after all, what is life without the stars to watch?
How is it that laying to waste takes so much of your heart? It seemed to ache more as the days passed, this was meant to be the finish line so how was he still falling? Why was he still alive? He chose this and yet his rusted body still held on.
Why? Why was he still here? He didn't want this, he wanted to leave but what awaits him leaves him paralyzed, where do you go when you don't want to choose life or death? Do you stay in an in-between? Balanced on a thin wire, just waiting for a strong gust of wind to decide for you?
It was too much, his head was throbbing, the lump in his throat growing, are those tears or sweat? Who's to tell? He couldn't think, the rusty heart in his chest dropped to his feet, the shock coursed through his body like an earthquake. Shaking, shivering, why couldn't he just THINK THINK THINK THINK THINK?
Ants crawled under his skin, relentless and unforgiving, they never stopped no matter how much he contorted his body to shake them out. It was driving him insane, he wanted to scream, cry, maybe he already was, the world was spinning so far away, so blurry. Please, why couldn't he just THINK.
Water in his lungs thrashed and whipped, please, just a little air, it was dragging him down deeper, please, just a little air, it was too much too much, PLEASE JUST A LITTLE AIR. Why now did the need for air arise? WHY NOW? Katsuki thrashed the water back, pushed it back, he just wanted a glimpse of the surface, a glimpse would be enough. PLEASE, JUST A GLIMPSE.
His head was screaming, pleading, please he didn't want this anymore. Bed drenched in a mix of tears and sweat, he clawed at his throat to rip out the lump that blocked the air he craved. Tight chest, shaking, clawing hands, he gasped for that sweet air, please, just a little air would be enough. The room was spinning more, he still couldn't THINK.
Katsuki screamed, Katsuki begged the stars for a mercy he didn't deserve, please, just a little light, a little air, a little SOMETHING. Reddened skin itched and burned, thorns in the eye of the storm stayed still as ever, the same as always but now sending overwhelming jolts of pain through his body. Relentless, unforgiving, he wanted them gone, he didn't want them, it was too much, too much, too much. TOO MUCH.
Shaking fingers tightly gripped a thorn, GET OUT, he didn't want to live in them anymore, GET OUT, he didn't care what rest beneath, he just wanted them GONE. In one swift movement, he tore it out, rejecting it from his life. Blood oozed out and trailed down his skin, like the stars they painted pictures with their pain. It hurt so much, yet at the same time it was like the weight of the world was finally lifted from his shoulders.
Gorish sin slithered out to trace tricks on blemished skin, a wolf in sheep's clothing waiting to bear it's fangs, a sickness festering deep within him waiting to sprout out and throw him into the chaos. More. More. Doesn't it feel good?
Another thorn rejected, lay abandoned on the floor. More. C'mon, just one more. Another thorn. Just one more. Another thorn. Don't stop. Don't let the weight come back. I know what's best for you. Don't you trust me?
From cracked skin the thorns emerged again like they were never gone, how did it come back? An aching heart dropped lower, fingers gripped at more thorns, let out more blood, more sin. But what was the point if they just came back anyway?
Broken sobs wracked the boy's body, the weight crashed down onto his sore shoulders yet again and he wept. He wept to the stars, to the dirt, his soul cried out into the universe waiting for an answer hidden in the echo.
Blankets of stars draped across the sky never answered his cries, instead they twinkled in the dark and listened to his woes. They splattered across shades of blue, their beauty embraced by the inconsistencies of life, by the knowledge that the stardust in our blood stream connects us to the core of what it means to exist.
There, emerging from the canvas was yellow- no, gold, golden beauties slowly making their way to him. They grew and drizzled down the canvas like they belonged, painting over what once was there to leave a new picture in place. Their sweet smell hovered over the stench of blood, their gentle hands wiped away the sorrow from his cheek and planted a comforting kiss atop the remains.
Red eyes drizzled honey into his own, the warmth reached out a hand in the water, ready to take. And that was it.
A simple offer, just a hand. The water around him- hell, the whole world came to a sudden stop. Everything stilled, no more movement, no more noise, just Eijirou's hand.
Light from the surface cast a heavenly glow on his hand, reflections of the water peeked out to glide across his fingers, his palm. Bringing up his own hand, they were there too. His pale hand was painted with blue and a flickering gold hidden in the curves. Katsuki's gaze jumped back to Eijirou's hand. It was still there.
Cold water thrashed in his lungs, warm honey tickled his cracked skin. Dark bags under tired eyes ached. A chance was better than nothing, right?
Was this okay? Love peaked out behind a cracked wall with the playful innocence of a child, their sweet forgotten whispers tiptoed forward into the light. Their small hands tugged on Katsuki's arm with pleading eyes, please don't kill us. A small child with pleading eyes, please don't kill us. An image of broken shards placed together, a truth previously tucked away in safety now glistened in the water.
You don't deserve to drown.
Katsuki's shaking hand reached out, uncertain yet so sure, his bloody fingers slid across Eijirou's palm, they wrapped around as their palms slotted together so familiarly; a chance was better than nothing, right?
...
God, he hoped so.